Great Power Reclamation

Chapter 2877 Love Amidst the Groundbreaking
The manor's wrought-iron gate gleamed coldly in the snow, and Ye Shuai's grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. Xiao Di turned to look at him; his Adam's apple bobbed.

“My mother and grandfather... take marriage very seriously, especially my grandfather, who always felt that marriage alliances could stabilize something.”

Xiao Di traced circles on the car window with his fingertips, and breath melted the frost on the glass, leaving small, transparent patches.

“I brought sand samples from Junken City, as well as the ‘Lianli’ wheat seeds we cultivated. If they don’t like me, they’ll surely like these, right?”

Marshal Ye suddenly slammed on the brakes, splashing snow onto the bumper. He turned and grabbed her hand; his palm was as hot as a seedling incubator.

Don't say that, they'll like you.

The spruce trees in the manor were covered with thick snow, like giants draped in white furs.

Ivana stood on the porch, bundled up in a camel coat. When she saw Shawdy, snowflakes fell from her eyelashes.

"You are...Shorty?"

Before Xiao Di could speak, Marshal Ye answered for her:
"Mom, she is my lover and the one who cultivated the 'Lianli' wheat variety."

The fireplace in the living room was burning brightly, and the old man sat on the velvet sofa, his silver eyebrows furrowed in worry.

On the mahogany coffee table in front of him was a copper plate containing three medals—a Soviet-era agricultural merit medals, their edges worn smooth and shiny.

“Marshal Ye,” the old man’s voice was like a stone in the frozen soil, “you should tell your family first.”

"What did you say?" Marshal Ye shielded Xiao Di behind him. "You said I want to marry someone who can plant wheat with me in the snow?"

Footsteps echoed down the stairs as Ivanovic, his suit cuff embroidered with the family crest, descended, gripping the handrail. He glanced at Shawdy and smiled at the old man:
“Dad, I knew that Marshal Ye had become too wild in Belgorod and had even forgotten the rules.”

Suddenly, Xiao Di pulled a glass jar from his bag; the wheat seeds gleamed golden in the firelight.
“Grandpa, Uncle, this is the ‘Lianli’ wheat variety. The expression rate of cold-resistant and drought-resistant genes both exceed 40%, allowing it to grow on the permafrost around Lake Baikal.”

Ivanovich scoffed: "Our rye production is already sufficient; we don't need this kind of miscellaneous stuff."

"But there are still 30 million hectares of undeveloped permafrost in Siberia."

Shawdy stepped forward. “These seeds will make wheat fields grow there.”

The old man picked up the glass jar and examined it against the light for a long time. He tapped his fingers on the jar's surface and suddenly asked:
Do you know how my brother died?

Xiao Di was taken aback, and Ye Shuai's face darkened.

"In 1953, he took rice seeds from China to the Kamchatka Peninsula, hoping to grow rice on the permafrost,"

The old man put down the jar, and sparks jumped out of the fireplace. "The blizzard collapsed the tent, and when they found him, he was still carrying sprouting rice seeds in his arms."

He stared at Marshal Ye: "I'm asking you to produce results first, not to have you flirting in the snow. If you can't come up with a permafrost development plan at next month's state agricultural conference, don't even think about getting promoted."

"I don't want a promotion at all!" Marshal Ye's voice echoed against the crystal chandelier. "I just want to guard the experimental field!"

"Insolence!" The old man swept the bronze plate to the ground, the medals clinking loudly.
"Do you think those photovoltaic panels and test stations came out of thin air? Without the support of your family, could you have gained a foothold in Belgorod?"

Ivana suddenly stood up and pulled Shawdy to her side:

“Dad, Marshal Ye is just like his father; once he's made up his mind, nothing can change it. Xiao Di is a good girl. Yesterday I looked up her paper on the hybridization technique between jujube and Siberian pine, and even a professor at Moscow State University praised it.”

"What's the use of being the best?"

Ivanovich pulled out a document. "The Kremlin advisor has a daughter who studied agricultural economics. She'll be coming to inspect next month. If Marshal Ye marries her, the permafrost development project can directly receive state funding."

Xiao Di's fingers dug into her palm, and the wheat seeds swayed gently in the glass jar, as if trembling for her.

Marshal Ye snatched the document and tore it to shreds: "I don't need to rely on women to exchange for resources!"

"This is not a deal, it's a strategy!"

The old man trembled with anger, "If my brother had been willing to marry into the local nobility back then, he wouldn't have frozen to death in Kamchatka!"

As night fell, Xiao Di was packing her luggage in her guest room. The snow on the windowsill shone blue in the moonlight. She took out the wheat seed necklace and suddenly heard a knock on the door.

Marshal Ye stood at the door, snow clinging to his eyelashes: "I'll take you somewhere."

Deep inside the manor was an old warehouse with an iron gate so rusted it was crumbling. Marshal Ye opened the door, and inside were rows of glass jars, labeled "1956 Northern Xinjiang Cotton Seeds" and "1978 Baikal Needlegrass".

On the innermost shelf sat a wooden crate containing a military reclamation uniform, with half a photograph peeking out of the pocket—

A handsome young man is shaking hands with Uyghur villagers in a cotton field, with vast fields of white cotton behind him.

“This is my maternal grandfather’s older brother,” Marshal Ye said, picking up the photo.

He always said that the land does not recognize titles, but only those who are willing to sweat.

Xiao Di stroked the photo: "Your grandfather was actually... afraid that you would follow in his footsteps, right?"

"But he forgot that although his brother died in the end, those rice seeds sprouted in Kamchatka, and now there are tens of thousands of acres of rice fields there."

Marshal Ye put the "Lianli" wheat seeds into an empty jar, labeled it, and said, "Tomorrow I will go to the state government and submit the permafrost development plan. Even without family support, I can still grow wheat."

The next morning, Xiao Di was awakened by an argument. She opened the door and saw Ivanovic slamming a newspaper in front of Marshal Ye:
"Look! Your solar panel project in Belgorod has been exposed, and they're saying you misappropriated civil affairs funds!"

The front page of the newspaper featured a photo of a photovoltaic panel array with a shocking headline: "A plaything for the descendants of nobility? Useless work on the permafrost."

Marshal Ye's face turned pale instantly, and Ivana paced anxiously, saying, "This must be the work of our competitors!"

The old man stood at the door, leaning on his cane, his face ashen: "Now you know it's difficult? Without the protection of the family, your experimental fields won't survive this winter."

Xiao Di suddenly remembered something, took out his phone and checked his emails:

“Last week I sent the FAO’s report on the development of the ‘Lianli’ wheat variety, and they replied yesterday that they are willing to fund our permafrost development project.”

Ye Shuai's eyes lit up, but Ivanovic sneered: "The United Nations' money isn't so easy to get. They'll definitely interfere with project management."

"Then let them see!"

Xiao Di opened his laptop and brought up data charts. "From seed selection to gene sequencing, every step is recorded. We want the world to know that China's agricultural technology can flourish even on frozen soil."

The old man stared at the gene sequence map on the screen and suddenly asked, "How do you plan to convince the state government?"

“Using the data,” Xiao Di pointed to the chart, “the ‘Lianli’ wheat variety yields 30% more per acre than ordinary rye, reduces planting costs by 25%, and can increase the annual income of Siberian farmers by four thousand rubles.”

Marshal Ye added, "I also contacted the technicians in the military reclamation city, and they were willing to send a team to guide the planting. China's drip irrigation technology, combined with the cold-resistant varieties here, can turn the frozen soil into a granary."

The old man remained silent for a long time, then suddenly picked up the medals from the bronze tray:
"I'll go with you to the state government tomorrow. I'll show those people that our family members are not just useless wretches who only know how to guard the manor."

Ivanovic frowned: "Dad, what are you doing..." "What do you know?" the old man glared at him, "If my brother had had this kind of skill back then, he wouldn't have..."

He didn't say anything more, and stuffed the medal into Marshal Ye's hand, saying, "Take this with you, so they know the history of our family's dealings with the land."

In the state government conference room, the Minister of Agriculture looked at the proposal submitted by Marshal Ye and tapped his fingers rapidly on the table: "The risks of developing permafrost are too great; we cannot take the risk."

“Risk?” Xiao Di pushed open the door, followed by several technicians carrying equipment.

“Last month we planted two acres of ‘conjoined wheat’ on the shore of Lake Baikal, and it has now grown to 30 centimeters tall.”

She turned on the projector, and a lush green wheat field appeared on the screen, with seedlings in the snow sprouting new leaves like countless green exclamation marks.

The technician played a video: "This was filmed yesterday. The cold-resistance gene can still be expressed normally at minus ten degrees Celsius."

The Minister of Agriculture's eyes widened, and the old man suddenly stood up and placed the medal on the table:

“In 1953, my brother brought Chinese rice seeds into the frozen soil; today, my grandson brings back hybrid wheat seeds from China and Russia. The land does not lie; you can go to Lake Baikal and see for yourselves, where the wheat seedlings are proving everything.”

At the end of the meeting, the minister shook Marshal Ye's hand and said, "The funding will arrive next week, and you will be fully responsible for the project."

As they walked out of the state government building, the snow stopped. Marshal Ye pulled Xiao Di into his arms, and the sunlight shone through the clouds, warming them both.

The old man looked at them and said to Ivana, "Back then, I always thought that marriage alliances were the most reliable, but now I understand that those who can plant wheat together in the snow are the ones who should be together the most."

Ivanovic walked over and handed Shawdy a box: "This is my mother's keepsake, a seed-shaped brooch. She said it would bring a good harvest."

Xiao Di opened the box; the silver seeds, studded with tiny sapphires, resembled wheat seeds covered in frost. Marshal Ye smiled and pinned the brooch to her coat.
"From now on, it will be the mascot of the 'Lianli' wheat variety."

In the manor's warehouse, new glass jars were placed on the shelves, labeled: "2016 'Lianli' wheat seed breeders: Ye Shuai, Xiao Di".

Looking at the jar, the old man suddenly said to Marshal Ye, "Next spring, let's set up an experimental field on the estate. I want to see these seeds grow into wheat with my own eyes."

Xiao Di leaned on Marshal Ye's shoulder, watching the snow outside the window slowly melt, revealing the moist black soil beneath.

She remembered what her grandfather had said: nobles are not defined by titles, but by their ability to protect their land.

And she and Marshal Ye are planting their future in their own way on this land that spans two countries.

In the experimental station late at night, the green light of the incubator was still on. Marshal Ye wrote a new entry in his notebook:

"Today, the planting area of ​​'Lianli' wheat on the shore of Lake Baikal has expanded to fifty mu. Xiao Di said that when the harvest is in full swing, he will invite the villagers of Junken City to eat steamed buns made from the new wheat."

Xiao Di leaned over to look and added, "We also need to invite Grandpa and Uncle over, so they know that love, like a seed, can take root and grow anywhere as long as it's nurtured with care."

The solar panels outside the window shimmered blue in the moonlight, like a never-ending sea of ​​stars.

Deep within the permafrost, the roots of wheat are quietly spreading, connecting the sandy soil of China with the black soil of Ukraine, and also connecting the past and future of two young people. Their story has only just begun to unfold.

In early spring, the seedling nurseries on the shores of Lake Baikal resembled emeralds scattered on the snow. Xiao Di squatted inside the nursery thinning the seedlings when Ye Shuai came in carrying a hoe, his trouser legs stained with freshly turned black soil.

“Grandpa had someone deliver a batch of sheep manure,” he said, placing the fertilizer bag in the corner. “He said it was ‘golden fertilizer’ that had been fermenting for three years on the estate, and it lasted longer than chemical fertilizers.”

Xiao Di picked up a handful of manure, brought it to his nose, and suddenly burst out laughing:

“Last year in Junken City, you kept saying that sheep manure was too smelly and insisted on using compound fertilizer.”

"I didn't understand back then,"

Marshal Ye knelt down to help her support the seedlings. "Professor Zheng once said that good seeds need good soil, just like a good marriage needs to withstand the test of time."

His fingertips brushed against the back of her hand, and both of them blushed—ever since that night at the manor, such touches always carried the warmth of melting snow in early spring.

The sound of an engine came from outside the seedling shed. Vasily jumped out of the car, holding a thermos in his hand.

"Shaw, look what I brought?"

The bucket contained golden millet porridge. "My wife learned to make Chinese breakfast using millet from Junken City that you sent."

Xiao Di scooped up a spoonful, and the aroma of rice mixed with milk spread on her tongue:

"Tell her that adding a few drops of sesame oil when cooking porridge will make it more fragrant."

"She also said that when the wheat is harvested, she wants to learn how to make dumplings from you."

Vasily pointed to the permafrost in the distance, "In time, let this land be covered with Chinese crops, and let it be filled with the fragrance of China."

As they were talking, Ivanovic's car pulled up outside the shed. He was dressed in a suit and tie, but he was carrying a canvas bag with the zipper undone, revealing a soil testing instrument inside.

"Your grandfather asked me to come and check the growth data of the wheat seeds."

He spoke awkwardly, and as his gaze swept over Xiao Di, he suddenly pulled a wooden box from his bag:

“This is… a rye seed that my mother collected on a farm in Ukraine. It has good lodging resistance genes and may be able to crossbreed with ‘Lianli’ (a type of rye).

Xiao Di's eyes lit up: "I just tested the lodging risk of 'Lianli' last week, and I was looking for a lodging-resistant gene bank!"

She took the wooden box, her fingertips touching the small characters engraved on the bottom—1987, Kyiv Farm.

Marshal Ye raised an eyebrow at his uncle, and Ivanovic's ears turned red.

"Don't misunderstand, I just don't want the project to go wrong. It doesn't mean I accept your relationship..."

As he turned to leave, he turned back and added, "Your solar panel angle calculation is incorrect. I'll bring an engineer to adjust it this afternoon."

Vasily could no longer suppress his laughter after his car had driven away.
"Ye, your uncle is like a piece of frozen soil that hasn't been warmed up yet; he's actually soft inside."

In April, the frozen ground begins to thaw, and you can hear the crisp sound of ice cracking when you step on it. Some tenacious little grasses have already sprouted from the ground, timidly shivering in the wind.

Marshal Ye and Xiao Di, along with technicians, buried sensors in the ground. The light blue cables formed a net on the snow, like a sweater woven for the earth.

"Is the depth sufficient? Don't be careless again."

Xiao Di tugged at the cable, and the sensor probe sank to a depth of exactly thirty centimeters into the black soil—the soil layer where the red willow roots are most active.

"Do you remember when we were burying drip irrigation pipes in the desert, you always stuck the ruler in crookedly?"

Marshal Ye smiled and helped her straighten up. "Back then, you said that the roots of the red willow can't be controlled by a ruler to grow wherever they want."

“But things are different now,” Xiao Di said, looking at the seedling shed in the distance. “These seeds carry the hopes of two people, so we have to follow the rules.”