On the morning of December 11, 2025, I, responsible for the company's publicity, and my colleague Chen Hong arrived at the Yangquan Project Department with Director Cheng. This trip was to collect the most authentic construction footage for the company's corporate song - "Song of the Rammer".

As soon as we got off the bus, the loud "thud, thud" of the dynamic compactor, mixed with loess, hit us head-on, like the deep and powerful heartbeat of the earth. Again and again, it reverberated in the winter air and deeply struck the depths of my perception.

The steel rammer was hoisted high and fell suddenly; the huge impact made the ground under our feet tremble continuously, and the aftershocks spread to the soles of our feet with a numb feeling. Workers wearing winter work clothes shuttled in an orderly manner among these gigantic devices. The white breath they exhaled vanished instantly in the biting north wind. This ramming sound never stopped for 24 hours, serving as the most primitive and solid background sound on this land, and precisely the source of rhythm that our camera sought.

To capture a coherent and accurate sequence of construction images, we stood still in the cold wind for a long time. The wind was like an ice-soaked blade. My colleague kept stamping his feet to keep warm, and his hands operating the equipment soon turned red and stiff. However, the workers in the camera's focus seemed to merge with the harsh cold. Their movements were steady and focused, each operation precise and in place. That concentration seemed capable of welding the vast horizon in front of them firmly. We held our breath, striving to make every frame a faithful interpretation of this power.

At lunchtime, we squeezed into the narrow leeward corner of the machine with the masters. As soon as we opened the lunch boxes, the heat of the food dissipated quickly in our hands. Everyone swallowed hastily against the howling wind, with few words exchanged, yet the most genuine mutual consideration was evident in the exchange of glances. At this moment, "construction site lunch" was no longer an abstract concept, but the warmth fading from our fingertips and the unspoken tacit understanding in the harshest environment. We quickly pressed the shutter to freeze these moments - they were far more vivid and compelling than any elaborately designed scenes.

In the afternoon, the clouds hung low, and the air was filled with the smell of impending snow. We had to complete the shooting of the last group of footage before the light completely faded. When we left after finishing work, looking back at the land, the figures of the dynamic compactors and workers formed silent and solid silhouettes against the dim twilight, exactly composing the highly impactful opening scene we had anticipated. An old master stopped his work, looked at the lead-gray sky, and said in a low voice: "We are most afraid of such rainy and snowy days. Once the ground freezes, the compaction effect will be reduced; when the snow melts, it will be all mud." His worry was heavy, weighing not only on the sky but also making the camera on our shoulders feel a more real weight.

On the way back, although our bodies were tired, our thoughts were extremely clear as we replayed the shot footage repeatedly. Suddenly, I deeply understood the significance of this trip: what we brought was not only the camera, but also a perspective of trying to understand and translate - converting the dull sound of the rammer hitting the earth into visual shock; depicting the perseverance in the cold wind as a dynamic epic. The company's spirit of "Loyalty, Gratitude, Dedication, and Innovation" suddenly became tangible here: it was the determined look in the old master's eyes when he stared at the trajectory of the rammer, the smile on the young worker's red face when he took the hot water cup, the silent and hasty lunch in the cold wind, and every meticulous action even in harsh weather.

Perhaps the final film still cannot fully reproduce the chest resonance when the rammer hits the ground or the feeling of the cold wind cutting the face like a knife. But the camera has its own language. It can tell the dull and reliable sound of the land being compacted, and record the tireless, forging-ahead footsteps on the winter wilderness.
On this land, the ramming sound is scalding, the wind is biting, and the people's hearts are warm. All these will merge into "Song of the Rammer" and become the most touching melody.

Snowflakes finally fell on the way back, thin and silent. I knew that after the snow melted and the warm sun reappeared, the "thud, thud" sound that made the earth's heartbeat would still ring out, again and again, compacting all the roads ahead. Outside the window, the city's lights had gradually lit up like a galaxy. And I knew that on the distant construction site in Yangquan, the steel pulse was still beating continuously in the depths of the cold - this was the heaviest yet hottest gift we brought back from this trip, the most powerful echo obtained when the camera finally bent down to get close to the land.

Salute to every "rammer" who writes commitments on the land.

The wind and snow are approaching, yet the road ahead continues. 

Wang Xiaojuan