Hard cement that requires temperature

In the afternoon, Ming Shuzhen returned to her workstation to familiarize herself with the software.

Housing inspection, as the name suggests, involves assessing structural safety, construction and renovation quality, and the use of eco-friendly materials, followed by calculations and report generation.

For instance, buildings with cracks or tilting, those affected by floods, earthquakes, or fires, or structures needing additions, expansions, or pipeline modifications—all require inspections. So do assessments for hazardous buildings.

There are also policy requirements. Private kindergartens need a building appraisal every five years to maintain their education license. Self-built houses used for commercial purposes require inspection reports for business permits.

With aging buildings and non-compliant renovations on the rise, housing inspections have become critical for ensuring residential safety.

Before graduating, Ming Shuzhen never imagined entering this industry.

To attend her dream school, she’d sacrificed her major, leaving her feeling lost.

People often said girls shouldn’t study civil engineering—they should be teachers or work in offices.

But Ming Shuzhen questioned herself: Could she take responsibility for shaping others’ lives during their formative years?

It didn’t seem like she could.

Still, she loved East University so much that even if it meant studying at the East District campus in a university-enterprise program, she wanted to go.

Her focus was tunneling, which was quite removed from housing, mainly involving surveying and software calculations.

Fortunately, East University emphasized humanities, hosting frequent lectures and exhibitions.

Over four years, Ming Shuzhen dabbled in many things, though she wouldn’t call it significant growth.

She just felt that whether it was tunnels or houses, these cold, concrete things desperately needed warmth.

“Warmth” was the core philosophy of Red Brick.

When Ming Shuzhen applied, she felt this aligned with her own beliefs.

After exploring the software, she opened Red Brick’s website to learn more about the company.

The website was clean and simple, with neatly organized sections: Testing Analysis, System Certification, Inspection Services, Audit and Assessment, Training Services, Instrument Calibration, and Environmental Health.

Ming Shuzhen scrolled past these to the “Solutions” section at the bottom.

North American DOE compliance one-stop solution for air purifiers… One-stop customized services for recyclable materials… Hardware accessory testing…

She clicked through each, skimming the details.

She’d researched Red Brick before applying. It was a standout in the inspection industry.

While most housing inspections focus on public spaces like libraries or kindergartens, Red Brick also took on residential properties.

During her interview, she was asked her thoughts on this.

She rambled at length.

Residential inspections weren’t lucrative and often led to disputes. Yet Red Brick tackled this tough challenge head-on.

The issues were complex. Who pays—the property management, residents, or developers? If safety issues were found, who maintains it—the builders or workers?

What if the inspection agency colluded with developers, falsifying reports? Or if real estate companies smeared competitors?

Red Brick’s willingness to handle residential inspections showed confidence in managing these principles and risks.

Before her interview, Ming Shuzhen learned Red Brick charged three yuan per square meter for residential inspections—a price most residents could afford.

This meant anyone could voluntarily contact a third-party inspector like Red Brick.

The profit margin was slim, making it a high-risk, low-reward endeavor.

Yet Red Brick did it out of corporate conscience.

Perhaps her long-winded, slightly flattering spiel impressed the interviewer, as she passed smoothly.

Though her focus was tunneling, she’d studied housing structures too.

Meilin, at the next desk, noticed Ming Shuzhen studying the website’s solutions and looked pleased.

“Full Pockets, it’s nearly year-end, and the boss hasn’t assigned new tasks, but with this enthusiasm, you’ll keep up when projects start next year.”

Hearing Meilin, Ming Shuzhen turned to face her, wanting to be polite.

She was thrilled by the encouragement but felt a bit of pressure.

“Sister Meilin, when working on projects, do we do them together or individually?”

“For simple model homes, one person’s enough,” Meilin said, thinking. “But most of our contracts are for heavily aged buildings with varied inspection needs, so we work together.”

“Oh,” Ming Shuzhen nodded. Teamwork would ease the pressure, and they could discuss uncertainties.

“Hey, check out the Industry News section,” Meilin pointed out. “Our PR team writes those. You can learn about our bidding partners and industry trends.”

“Oh,” Ming Shuzhen nodded, clicking the “Industry News” tab.

She hadn’t worked on-site or followed real projects—only tagging along with classmates during school internships, lugging surveying equipment.

So, she had no real sense of these partners, just scrolling through the long list of names and descriptions.

“Wow, our company’s pretty impressive,” she exclaimed, spotting “Top 8 Seasonal Home Decoration Companies” and “No. 1 in Service Rankings.”

Meilin glanced at her screen, unfazed. “It’s alright. Room for growth.”

Her face, though, beamed with pride, her lips barely hiding a smile.

Ming Shuzhen grinned at Meilin. “Sister Meilin, how long have you been here?”

“Gosh, I haven’t counted,” Meilin said, tilting her head to calculate. “I went to a design institute after grad school but couldn’t handle the internship. Then I came here.”

“Seven years!” she said, shocked herself.

“When I started, I thought my degree and design institute experience would make me a star,” Meilin recalled.

Ming Shuzhen nodded, listening intently.

“I was in Team One, but it was as cutthroat as the design institute—overseas grads, top architects. I couldn’t handle the pressure and got moved to Team Two within a year.”

“You’re a team leader now, though. That’s amazing,” Ming Shuzhen said sincerely.

“Hah,” Meilin laughed. “Team Two seems relaxed, but we’re all workhorses. You’ll see.”

“Why am I telling you this?” Meilin said, seeing Ming Shuzhen nod along. She didn’t want to pass on a defeatist mindset.

“You’re different. You don’t need to grind—your family’s got you set,” Meilin said, then felt she’d overstepped and laughed it off.

Ming Shuzhen didn’t catch the implication, distracted by Meilin’s other topics.

The afternoon sun filled the office, and with the heater on, Ming Shuzhen felt warm and cozy.

In such warmth, sleepiness crept in.

Blinking, she closed the webpage. “Sister Meilin, can we nap at noon here?”

“You tired?” Meilin glanced at her, noting the laziness in her eyes.

“Go upstairs and rest. There’s nothing to do now.”

“Sweet, thanks, Sister Meilin,” Ming Shuzhen said happily, grabbing her coat and phone.

“Hey,” Meilin called as she left her computer.

“Our team’s pretty lax, but there are some details to mind,” Meilin said, adopting a mentorly tone.

Though she figured Ming Shuzhen, likely a connected hire, might not take the job seriously, Meilin felt responsible to teach her the basics.

“This computer—only you shut it down. Don’t touch anyone else’s, even if their desk’s empty. No need to be nice and turn it off for them.”

“Got it,” Ming Shuzhen said, matching Meilin’s seriousness.

“We live on data. You get that, right?”

“Totally,” Ming Shuzhen nodded like a student answering a teacher. “To avoid losing unsaved data?”

“Mm,” Meilin said, glancing at her.

That wasn’t the whole story. Real estate is lucrative, with plenty of loopholes. A tampered dataset could yield a fortune—or land someone in jail.

But seeing Ming Shuzhen’s innocence, Meilin held back.

“This app,” Meilin pointed to a crude icon labeled with Red Brick’s pinyin.

“It’s our internal software. You can send messages there.”

“And,” Meilin gave her a meaningful look, “every computer’s logged to a personal account. Boot and shutdown records are tracked in this app.”

“All data must be exported to this software before you leave your computer. The company stores memory drives in the database.”

“Oh, okay,” Ming Shuzhen nodded eagerly, sensing some formality.

Everyone aiming for stability and prestige wants a design institute job. Private firms like this are freer but risk slacking—or bankruptcy.

Yet Ming Shuzhen thought this company had potential, especially with its custom internal software, rivaling design institutes.

“Go rest,” Meilin said, relaxing after her instructions.

“Mm,” Ming Shuzhen shut down her computer, picking up her coat and phone again.

Upstairs, the sunlight was even brighter.

A few people lounged on the central leather sofas, some with clothes draped over them, napping or scrolling phones with earbuds.

Ming Shuzhen felt relieved—naps were allowed, perfect for someone like her who needed them.

She headed to a corner with a few small sofas, planning to lie down.

The orange sofas, bright and beanbag-like, sat by a tall floor-to-ceiling window.

Ming Shuzhen plopped down, draping her coat over herself.

Sunlight poured through the window in a golden swath.

The area was quiet, everyone respecting the nap-time vibe.

“Why not partition this space for a few beds?” Ming Shuzhen mused, nestled in the sofa.

Afraid of dirtying the window with her feet, she curled her legs up.

She tucked her badge aside to avoid it digging into her.

Basking in the sun, Ming Shuzhen lazily closed her eyes.

She thought she wouldn’t sleep, being new and unadjusted.

But soon after closing her eyes, her breathing softened.

The sunlight whitened her nose tip, her badge’s Lazy Sheep grinned with big teeth, and in the quiet, Ming Shuzhen, on her first day, stole a solid nap.