On the eve of December 12th, when the first snowflake drifted down onto the dynamic compaction machines at Yangquan construction site, we were on our way back after a full day of filming, with the heavy thuds of rammer hammers on the loess still ringing in our ears.

On December 11th, three of us drove deep into the heart of Shanxi and arrived at this construction site where dynamic compaction works proceeded 24 hours non-stop. Our mission was clear: to capture with our lenses the perseverance of Jinbaodao’s builders braving the bitter cold. The sky was clear upon our arrival; though winter had set in with biting winds, there was no sign of snow, offering perfect bright daylight for our shoot.

The construction site was like a battlefield in its own right. Four dynamic compaction machines stood tall like steel giants on the vast loess ground. Rammer hammers gathered momentum high above at dozens of meters, then slammed down abruptly onto the earth with hundreds of tons of force, unleashing deep, commanding roars. The sound was not shrill, yet so resonant that it sent tremors through the ground beneath our feet, like the heartbeat of a slumbering earth stirring awake.

We wrapped our heavy work uniforms tightly and trudged through the piercing wind. Like us, the workers were clad in standard olive-green winter workwear, collars and cuffs fastened securely. Their exhaled breath turned to white mist, only to be scattered by the wind in an instant. Working alongside these steel behemoths, they operated in three rotating shifts, keeping the project running day and night. The thud of rammer hammers never ceased throughout the winter days.

To capture the perfect shot of a rammer hammer hitting the ground, we had to wait at our designated spots for long stretches. The wind cut at our cheeks like a cold blade; my companions stamped their numb feet constantly, their fingers too stiff to hold the equipment properly. Yet the workers before us seemed to have merged with the bitter cold, their unwavering focus making the harsh weather pale into insignificance.

The weather took a turn for the worse in the evening as we left the site. As the sun dipped below the distant mountains, its afterglow faded away, and the sky darkened gradually with the rhythm of nature. The previously mild northwest wind suddenly picked up, howling across the empty construction site, sweeping up the biting chill of the loess and blasting it straight at us. The temperature plummeted drastically, and the cold seeped through our clothes in an instant, piercing to the bone.

We did not witness the subsequent harshness firsthand, but through the project manager’s account, we could vividly picture the scene: the sun retreated early, the wild wind raged across the open site like a wielded blade, and the white mist exhaled by the workers was torn apart in a split second. They became "true soldiers," wielding leveling rods as rifles and levels as cannons, holding their ground like defenders of their own "Triangle Hill".

The early morning of December 12th saw the world transformed by an overnight snowfall. The mess and bustle of the construction site were sealed away temporarily, leaving nothing but the silence of snow between heaven and earth. To us, this tranquility was a scenic view; to the workers, however, it might have felt like a heavy burden weighing on their minds—tight schedules, frozen soil, muddy ground, each a source of tangible pressure.

As photographers, what we captured through our lenses was the might of steel, the resilience of workers, and the rigor of construction procedures. Yet to every "rammer operator" on site, beneath this strength and perseverance flowed a more delicate undercurrent: reverence for the forces of nature, relentless pursuit of construction quality, mutual care among team members, and above all, a sense of responsibility as pure as snow and as steadfast as the rammer’s roar, forged in the harsh environment.

I still remember that when we left, the rammer’s thuds remained sonorous, with snowstorms looming on the horizon. In just one day, the construction site was transformed completely. But I know that once the snow melts, the iconic thuds that make the earth "beat" will ring out again, as resonant as ever. For the footsteps of JIN BAODAO’s people will never be halted by wind and snow for long. They will leave fresh, firm footprints on the snow, just as they forge solid foundations on this land with every strike of the rammer hammer.

In the winter of this land, there is both the bitter chill of the north wind and the fiery warmth of the rammer’s roar. What we have recorded is the unyielding perseverance and strength, forged in the interplay of ice and fire, that never fades away.

                                                                                                       Chen Hong