With the spiritual spring space, rebirth in the red era

At the construction site of the Transportation Department's courtyard, a group of workers shouted neat slogans and pushed hard against a wall. The courtyard wall swayed and collapsed, causing a large cloud of dust.

Thirty half-finished houses were all demolished, and workers used trucks to haul away the waste bricks, dig big holes in the ground, and bury them.

All the employees of the Transport Department cheered loudly. After all, no one would dare to live in a house built with tofu.

"Long live Director Zuo, mighty Director Xue." Wang Xianbang roared at the top of his lungs.

Everyone followed suit and shouted long live. Zuo Changzheng smiled from ear to ear and kept waving to everyone, as if all the credit was his.

Xue Ming didn't like the word "long live", but he was very happy to see everyone happy. "Comrades, our superiors have given us a promise. Our house will be completed in April next year, and we will allocate houses to everyone by then."

"Long live!" The atmosphere reached a climax at this moment. Everyone had been waiting for too long to divide the house, and now they finally saw the dawn of victory.

After cheering, everyone went for a walk on the construction site. The engineering team leader Wang Shenghua took Xue Ming to the brick pile, picked up two bricks with both hands and collided them hard.

The two bricks were intact. Wang Shenghua threw another brick to the ground, raised the other high and smashed it hard. In the end, the brick that was hit was only broken into two pieces.

"Director Xue, look, this is a good brick." Wang Shenghua picked up half of the brick and asked Xue Ming to check it.

"Well, the quality is indeed good. From now on, you will strictly control the quality. If you have any problems, report to me at any time." Xue Ming simply explained a few words and followed Zuo Changzheng back to the unit.

After returning to the office, the two brothers began to divide the work. Zuo Changzheng then focused on the construction of the family home, and Xue Ming was responsible for the daily work of the entire transportation department.

"Brother, do you have any news about Jin Bufan? This turmoil is all caused by him." Zuo Changzheng said.

Xue Ming shook his head. The power of the Jin family was too great. Jin Bufan had already run away and was hiding in no corner.

"Brother, please be more careful. Jin Bufan and Jin Buer both fell into trouble in your hands. I'm worried that they will do you harm." Zuo Changzheng handed Xue Ming a cigarette.

"It won't be a day or two if they want to trick me. The soldiers will come to cover up the water and the earth." Xue Ming is not too worried about the Jin family's revenge. He only needs to be cautious when relying on the Zhao family.

Zuo Changzheng laughed and said, "Brother, you have been working hard recently. I will give you ten days of paid leave."

"Listen to me and thank you." Xue Ming immediately wrote a request for leave. It was so nice to take paid leave. Zuo Changzheng took out his pen and approved it directly.

Xue Ming put the leave application note in his pocket and rode home. He locked the door and entered the space. He went to the collection room and took out a hundred silver coins to buy fairy tales from the space brother.

The space paid for a book titled One Hundred Fairy Tales Extended Edition, which was not the Grimm's fairy tales or Andersen's fairy tales that Xue Ming wanted.

This is a storybook published in the 21st century. Xue Ming opened the pages and saw many familiar stories.

For example, Pangu opened the sky, Nuwo created humans, Houyi shot the sun, Chan'e flew to the moon, Dayu controlled the floods, the emperor fought Chiyou, etc., and there are many unheard stories.

Xue Ming also roughly knows the origin of these stories. They seem to be extracted from classics of the pre-Qin period such as The Classic of Mountains and Seas and Records of the Gods.

Looking further down, there are even three dozen white-bone spirits, a collection of classic stories such as Havoc in the Sky and Nezha Haohai, which is simply a hodgepodge of classical mythology.

He sat in front of the writing desk, took out a manuscript paper, and wrote Cao Ailing's bedtime story.

He opened the book and copied it word for word. A few days ago, he had promised Cao Baoshan to write a storybook for his daughter.

In the following days, Xue Ming went into the space to copy whenever he had time. His wife and family went to work every day, and he had no entertainment activities. Anyway, he was idle.

On the ninth day of copying, I finally got irritated and rode my bicycle to the Transportation Bureau to find Cao Baoshan and put the thick story book in front of him.

Cao Ailing's bedtime story was written on the cover of the storybook. Cao Baoshan was immediately confused, "Are you serious? You wrote all these stories?"

"I don't have that much ability. These are all translated classical literature, that is, translating classical Chinese into vernacular," Xue Ming said matter-of-factly.

The story begins with Pangu creating the world, and Cao Baoshan immediately fell into it. The more he read, the more interesting it became. After reading Pangu, he continued to watch Nuwa Create Man.

Twenty minutes later, Xue Ming couldn't help but said, "Say, Uncle Cao, are these stories so attractive? Can we restrain ourselves a little?"

Cao Baoshan was startled, with embarrassment on his face, "You adapted the story so well that I couldn't help but be fascinated. The children will definitely like it."

"I don't know if the children like it, but I think you quite like it." Xue Ming joked with a smile.

Cao Baoshan put the storybook in his bag and said, "Let me tell you something serious. The province has handed over the well-killing to the No. 1 Iron Foundry for production. I think they will ask you for help soon."

"What help do you need from me? Are you going to help them install the well? I don't have the leisure time." Xue Ming crossed his legs nonchalantly.

"Put your legs down! Don't be so careless, kid. You are now the dignified deputy director of the Transportation Department, not a street kid." Cao Baoshan was very angry.

Xue Ming immediately put down his legs and sat up straight, with a serious face and pretended to be attentive.

Cao Baoshan scratched his head and had a headache. "They are not asking you to install the well kill. At most, they will ask you to be a temporary well kill installation consultant to train their installation workers."

"No interest. Let them go directly to my second brother and Zuo Tianyi. They can definitely be training teachers. Also, the storybook I gave you can only be told to children. Don't spread it everywhere." Xue Ming said.

Cao Baoshan felt a headache again and waved his hand like a fly, "Your ideological awareness needs to be improved. Hurry up and disappear from me. I will get annoyed when I see you."

"Okay, you're busy first." Xue Ming patted his butt and left directly. Chatting with an old stubborn like Cao Baoshan was quite tiring.

Cao Baoshan rolled his eyes and continued to review the documents. Suddenly he found that his pen was missing. It was a gold pen worth fifteen yuan.

I hurriedly opened the drawer to look for it, but couldn't find it after searching around. I forced myself to calm down and think carefully.

Suddenly he was so angry that he jumped up and cursed, "Xue Ming, you bastard, how dare you steal my pen, my pen!"

Xue Ming, who was riding home, suddenly sneezed twice in succession, twisted his nose and whispered, "Which bastard cursed me."

When I got home, I saw my daughter-in-law lying on the desk preparing for lessons. She walked over and took out a pen and put it on the table. "Your pen is a bit worn. Please use this one from now on."

"Oops!" Zhao Xue exclaimed and picked up the pen, "Honey, this is an out-of-print gold pen. Where did you buy it?"

"Uncle Cao gave it to me, hehe." Xue Mingxin said that my story couldn't be copied in vain, so it would be reasonable to give him a broken pen.

Xue Ming was so proud of himself, but he never imagined that stories written by others would cost money, and stories written by him would cost lives in the future.