The foundation stone of the new Chang'an City was still cold from the frozen ground. Duan Zhou was wearing cracked labor protection boots and his trousers were stained with unpatched clay. He was spitting in front of a group of workers carrying shovels. "Stop, everyone! Did you see that layer of rammed earth we just dug? It's blue-gray with mica flakes. That's living soil from the Han Dynasty! Do you think it's just mud that you can step on at the construction site? This soil was used for the walls of Weiyang Palace back then, mixed with glutinous rice. Juice and lime, the blisters will not collapse for three years! It's better now, Zhang San, your shovel is almost hitting the Qin Dynasty clay drainage pipe, it is really cracked, and your shed will be flooded by heavy rain in the future, don't call me Duanhuatong for not warning you!"
The crowd burst into laughter, and a shirtless strong man wiped the sweat from his face: "Duan Tou, your words are more refreshing than the broadcast at the construction site! We are trying to meet the construction deadline. The weather can change at any time. If it rains like last year again-"
