Song Yan felt that he was really unlucky in his life.
On a rainy night, the searchlights at the "Wangshan Yayuan" construction site on the outskirts of the city swayed crazily under the sky like splashing ink, and the big raindrops hit his helmet with a crackling sound, as if to give him a shock to his fragile nerves.
In the foundation pit under his feet, the yellow mud soup had reached his ankles, and it was bone-chilling cold.
"Damn, these damn developers!" Song Yan wiped the rain off his face and roared into the intercom, "I'm just saying there's something wrong with the geology! In order to save some exploration fees, we have to rush the construction deadline! It's fine now, the landslide is over! Keep your spirits up, turn the water pump to the maximum, Lao Zhang, take someone to cover the slope over there with a tarpaulin!"
As the contractor of this project, Song Yan cursed fiercely, but his heart was bleeding.
This is not only a matter of money, but also a matter of life.
He believes in "safety first, money second", but he can't stand the fact that Party A is a father, and he is also a stingy father.
"Brother Song, it can't work! The soil down here is too soft, like tofu dregs. It can't be hung at all!" A young worker's voice sounded crying on the intercom.
Song Yan's heart sank, he put the walkie-talkie away from his waist and cursed: "Trash! Get out of the way, I'll go down and take a look!"
