Just Another Brick in the Wall
Pankhur
t was a crisp autumn morning. A man sat perched high on the half-built section of a wall-like structure.
Around him lay the high mountain peaks of Jingshanling, shining in the first rays of the morning sun.
Below him, lay a sea of white, fluffy clouds and the birds chirped in green trees that sparkled with dew
drops.
It wa
i Dayal, Group 2: Fiction, German Swiss International School
s a perfectly peaceful moment, and Wang Jing closed his eyes and lay back on the wall. He thought
about his village, where he had left behind his beautiful young wife and his two young children. He remembered
the first time his children walked in the courtyard, the laughter they shared and the smell of sizzling peppercorns
coming from their tiny kitchen.
I
Goooong!!!!
The echoing sound of the gong, which announced the start of the work day, broke Wang Jing’s chain of
thoughts and brought him back to reality. Around him, the hustle and bustle of the day was starting. Soon,
hundreds of labourers that worked tirelessly on the Wall would start coming out of their huts, rubbing their eyes
sleepily and starting to chow down their breakfast of thin, rice congee.
The task ahead of them was not easy. They were building a massive wall, one that was over eight hundred
kilometres long and stretched all the way from Shanhaiguan to Lop Nur. Building this Great Wall would make
their country, China, undefeatable, and keep it protected from the plundering, nomadic Mongolian tribes.
Building this part of the Wall was especially treacherous, because of the steep slopes and rocky hills in
Jingshanling.
Life on the Wall was hard. The labourers had rough meals, only a cramped corner to live in and hardly any
breaks. They had all been forced into this hard, hard labour by the Ming Emperor and his army. There was not a
day when a worker didn’t come back wounded. Many died too; some fell down hauling up the rocks from the
quarry, some fell while putting the mortar in place while some died of cold and sheer exhaustion. Building the
Great Wall was no joke!
Wang Jing was a skilled foreman. He supervised a team of one hundred labourers that were given the task
of completing the most difficult eleven kilometres of the Great Wall that went over a jagged peak on one side
and a deep ravine on the other.
For the past six months, they had been chopping rocks, hardening mud, mixing the mortar, and sealing huge
slabs of stone one on top of the other. Wang Jing had designed the Wall strategically in double lines, with watch
towers, passes, signalling points and fortresses. His team was now very close to completing the task, after which
nothing could stop the Great Wall from reaching Beijing and making China safe forever from the Mongols!
Wang Jing climbed down from the far section of the Wall where he had been sitting and began rounding up
his men. Together they set off to another day of tough work. They worked hard all day in the hot sun that made
them all sweat, breaking only for a bowl of noodles and vegetables in the afternoon. This went on for many days.
By the end of the week, they had circled the Wall around the sharpest peak.
Their work was almost complete. The labourers were dreaming of a long rest and Wang Jing could think of
nothing but seeing his family again. Perhaps his children would be grown up now, running around the dusty,
narrow lanes of his village!
That night, Wang Jing was woken up by the sound of the howling wind. He peered outside his window, and
sure enough, a black storm was raging outside! Huge sheets of rain were pelting down mercilessly on the Great
Wall. Wang Jing suddenly remembered that they had just finished putting the most important connecting slab on
the Wall that afternoon, one that would hold the entire section together!
Wang Jing stumbled out blindly through the rain and the wind, calling his men to join him as he ran towards
the newly-built section. As he reached there, he saw that the rain had turned the mortar into mud, which was
running down in little streams down the Wall. Several bricks had come loose and the big connecting slab was
swaying dangerously, ready to fall down any minute.
Wang Jing had no time to waste. He picked up two bamboo sticks from the ground and hastily climbed up
the scaffolding. Without thinking twice, he pushed the bamboo sticks under the connecting slab with both hands,
holding it back in place. Sheets of rains and hail pounded him. Suddenly, he heard his men below yelling for
him to hold on while they came up to help him.
Wang Jing felt his grip becoming loose. He suddenly remembered holding his children above his head
during the Lantern festival, as they tried to see the bright lanterns. The thought gave him new strength and his