I think I really am getting old.

I’ve been in architectural design for eleven years, and I’ve never felt this exhausted—not just physically, but mentally too. When I sit down in front of the computer now, I find myself wanting to drift off, or lie down and scroll on my phone, or fiddle around with websites. Anything is better than drawing. But life keeps moving, and moving takes a huge amount of energy. That energy, in turn, has to be bought with money. So even when I’m fed up, I still have to keep going.

Yesterday I went to Gujiang to look at a construction site. The land was bare, and the sun hung overhead with that kind of heat that feels almost vicious, as if it wanted to burn everything to a crisp. By the time I got into the temporary site office, I didn’t want to say a word.

This was supposed to be a chili processing plant, put together by several shareholders. I heard they were also working with a professor from a university, trying to dig deeper into chili processing and value-added products. The project started pushing forward before last year’s Spring Festival. At the time, the owner was in a hurry to attract investment, and our company leader had me and two colleagues work overtime before the holiday to produce a concept scheme. Before the Spring Festival was even over, they were already chasing us back to the office to keep working on the construction drawings, saying they needed them for investment promotion.

One colleague was furious. The project didn’t pay much to begin with, and even the New Year wouldn’t be left in peace. He simply resigned and went home to finish the holiday properly. There was nothing the leader could do, so the work was handed to another colleague instead.

In the end, all that effort went to waste. The shareholders couldn’t agree among themselves, the investment push didn’t go smoothly, and the construction drawings never really served their purpose. Then, at yesterday’s meeting, the person leading the project brought up a new round of opinions and said the earlier scheme needed to be revised.

After hearing them out, my heart sank halfway. Tear it all down and start again from the beginning—that was the feeling.

Architecture often works like this. The client calls the shots, and the boss’s ideas keep changing. That is especially true when the client has several shareholders: every one of them wants to step forward and say something. For them, it may just be an idea. For us, it is a mountain. Even ordinary, needs-based design is tedious enough; when it has to be redone again and again, people start to feel more like machines than designers.

Through the whole meeting, I didn’t say much. I simply didn’t know what they might come up with at the next one. The more I said, the more ideas they seemed to have. All I wanted was for them to settle on something quickly, get it done quickly, and bring one matter to an end.

Mr. Miao, who represented the client, promised us that all the procedures would be completed within fifteen days and that the new planning indicators for the land red line would be passed to us. I almost laughed to myself. Something that had been stuck from last year into this year—more than half a year without a real result—could it really be handled in fifteen days?

Maybe everyone wants to push things forward. But for some reason, projects always get stuck somewhere in the middle. I still don’t know which link is failing.

On the way back at noon, I ran into another boss, this one doing business in hazardous chemicals. He was planning to build a warehouse to store his products. A piece of land he had been using temporarily for storage had no proper approvals, and the emergency management officers found out. Now he was facing punishment.

Through an intermediary, he arranged to meet a senior official from the emergency management bureau, hoping they could be lenient and avoid putting his company on the credit blacklist, since that would affect future financing and loans.

The official said the penalty could be reduced, but he kept stressing safety, giving example after example from the past. Every example was a bloody lesson. He especially reminded the boss that professionals should handle professional work, and that someone who understands environmental protection and safety must be brought in to manage the site. Even if it costs a little more, it is worth it.

He mentioned one company that had two fires in a row. After the first fire, they replaced the person in charge of safety, but the new hire didn’t understand the work either and made the same mistake on the same issue. The two fires caused huge losses, and the company eventually shut down. He also said that the state now treats safety management very strictly. Fines are one thing; if something really goes wrong, the person responsible may end up in prison.

I don’t know whether that boss took any of it in. But I have seen many news reports about companies suffering explosions or fires because of poor management. In the past two years, Bozhou District hasn’t had an accident of that kind. Stricter enforcement is one side of it, but letting professionals do professional work matters even more.

Unfortunately, it’s just like in architecture. There are always outsiders who, because of their position or power, like to direct those of us who actually know the work. I only hope they run into enough trouble to understand one day that the pot is cast iron, not clay.