Chapter 737 - 465: The Scene

Chapter 737: Chapter 465: The Scene

He reached out and pushed the door open.

In an instant, a wave of warmth, thick with the smell of smoke, washed over his face.

Feng Shan instinctively squinted. Once his eyes adjusted, he took in the chaotic scene inside the construction shed.

Filing cabinets lined the walls, their tops piled high with all sorts of documents and miscellaneous items.

The desk in the middle was even more disorganized, completely covered with a dense layer of blueprints, some of which had even fallen to the floor.

Several electric heaters were running at full blast, their orange-red glow flickering as they continuously radiated heat.

They made the entire shed as stuffy and hot as a steam basket.

At that moment, Old Li was letting a middle-aged man have it.

A sudden gust of cold wind swept into the shed. Old Li whipped his head around and started to curse, "Which son of a bitch doesn’t know how to—"

But the words died in his throat when he saw Feng Shan standing at the door with a faint smile.

Old Li’s previously ferocious expression instantly turned awkward.

He immediately let the sweating middle-aged man off the hook and stomped through the office area, a look of annoyance on his face.

He hollered as he walked.

"You little punk! So you finally decided to show your damn face! I was starting to think you’d forgotten all about this highway!"

"How could I!" Feng Shan laughed sheepishly.

Just then, the middle-aged man who had just been getting a vicious earful turned around.

Only then did Feng Shan realize it was Ren Haibo, the designer from Da Hua Architecture.

Ren Haibo, for his part, looked utterly exasperated. He gave Feng Shan a polite nod, tucked a roll of blueprints under his arm, and hurried out of the shed.

"Li, you’re yelling at people again. Can’t you just sit down and talk things through calmly?" Sam and Nash had followed Feng Shan into the shed. Seeing Ren Haibo’s embarrassed expression, Sam couldn’t help but complain to Old Li.

"Nonsense! He’s my apprentice, why can’t I chew him out? He deserves it! Not like you foreigners who can spend days chatting over two cups of coffee about the specs for a single bolt."

Old Li shot Sam an annoyed glare. He gestured at the shed, where there was barely any room to stand, and said casually, "Find a spot to sit yourselves. It’s not as comfortable as the Crown Territory here."

With that, he casually shoved a few blueprints aside on the desk, clearing a small space, and plopped himself down on it.

Feng Shan didn’t mind Old Li’s cantankerous attitude toward him.

After all, the man had come out of retirement, bringing a construction crew at his age to this harsh Tundra environment to build a road for him. He could take a few harsh words.

With that thought, he bent down and found a chair under the desk.

It was a bit muddy, so he quickly wiped it off and plopped down.

After sitting, Feng Shan idly flipped through the messy pile of blueprints on the desk.

The prints were dense with all sorts of lines and complex data. Just a few glances were enough to give him a headache.

Feng Shan frowned slightly, then smiled and asked, "So, what’s the story? Sam mentioned we might finish the project half a month ahead of schedule. Does that mean this highway will be done in two months?"

Old Li stood up.

From a corner of the shed, he dug out a very characteristic Chinese thermos, its shell emblazoned with a striking pattern of large, red peonies.

He then took a few disposable cups from a nearby box.

As he poured water for Feng Shan, Sam, and Nash, he curled his lip and said disdainfully,

"Two months? You think that’s something?"

"With the standards these Americans use for a Tundra highway, back in China, it wouldn’t even qualify as a Class-3 highway. At best, it’s on par with our village access roads. No, wait, it’s not even that good. Our village roads at least have to be paved with cement. For these crappy American roads, you just throw down a layer of gravel and you’re done."

"It’s that simple?" Feng Shan’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He picked up his cup, cradling it in both hands to let the warmth seep into his palms.

"You better believe it!" Old Li slammed the thermos down and said emphatically, "If you measure it by our country’s ’Technical Standards for Highway Engineering,’ this road would be a Class-4 highway at best."

"And for this, the Americans act like it’s some precious treasure. They spent hundreds of millions of US Dollars to build the Dalton Highway. What a complete waste of money. Any construction company back in China could do it, and for cheaper."

Old Li snatched his winter coat from the desk, put it on deftly, and then jutted his chin at Feng Shan. "Come on, I’ll take you to the site to open your eyes. Old Sa, we’re taking your car."

The two of them had been speaking in Chinese the entire time.

Nash and Sam had no idea what they were talking about.

If they knew how relentlessly Old Li was disparaging American road-building technology,

Sam definitely wouldn’t have been so cordial to the old man.

Sam was extremely proud of America’s infrastructure and considered it world-class.

As for Nash, he couldn’t care less.

Most things about the United States didn’t have much to do with him, an Indigenous Person.

In his opinion, if it came to bad-mouthing the United States, the things Indigenous People had to say would probably be far harsher than anything Old Li could come up with.

After all, the United States had a long history of harming Indigenous People.

They had never forgotten these things and held a deep-seated, unconditional loathing for many aspects of the country.

They walked out of the shed.

Biting wind and snow assaulted them, feeling like countless tiny ice needles stabbing at their faces.

The men quickly hunched over, bracing against the howling blizzard as they scrambled into the Pickup Truck.

The Pickup Truck started up slowly and drove out of the camp.

As it climbed a gentle slope, the bumpy ride suddenly smoothed out.

Feng Shan instinctively gazed out the window.