Great Power Reclamation

Chapter 2879 An Out-of-Control Blessing
May Day, International Workers' Day, was won through the struggle of the working class.

As capitalism entered the monopoly stage, workers were forced to perform a great deal of labor every day, and in order to protect their rights, the workers decided to fight.

In 1886, 350,000 workers in cities such as Chicago in the United States held a major strike and demonstrations, demanding an eight-hour workday and improved working conditions. Under pressure from international public opinion and society, the U.S. authorities announced the implementation of an eight-hour workday.

To commemorate this struggle, in July 1889, the Second International Congress in Paris established May 1 as International Workers' Day.

The Junken Square was bustling with people, not because of any event, but because Ye Mao's wedding was taking place today.

The most eye-catching sight was the people dressed in ethnic costumes, who brought out mobile tandoor ovens and various barbecue grills, filling the entire square with enticing aromas.

Meanwhile, others sang and danced, creating a festive atmosphere.

Moreover, there was a particularly strange phenomenon: there were arguments at every barbecue stall because many people from the military reclamation city had brought large quantities of beef and mutton.

The ethnic minority vendors, however, resolutely refused to accept the money, saying that it was voluntary for them.

The people of Junken City took a hard line, insisting that they would not refuse to accept the goods, and the two sides were immediately at an impasse.

Later, an old man with a white beard, Maimaiti, finally understood what had happened. It turned out that the Ye family refused to accept the gift, but the people of Junken City wanted to express their feelings, so this is how it turned out.

Maimaiti laughed and told the villagers, "Take them all. If you can't finish baking them in one day, then bake them in two days. If you can't finish them in two days, then bake them in three days."

"Dr. Ye is my friend, how can we not celebrate his grandson's wedding?"

As a result, the entire square and the surrounding streets were filled with barbecue stalls, as well as mountains of alcohol and various drinks.

As the eldest grandson's wife of the Ye family and the head of the military reclamation city, Yifei is naturally very self-disciplined and has long since issued instructions to various units.

That is, it is strictly forbidden to hold any celebrations under the pretext of Ye Mao's wedding.

What she didn't expect was that while she could manage her workplace, she had no way to control the personal behavior of ordinary people.

For example, there are barbecue stalls all over the square and nearby streets, and all kinds of drinks and alcohol are free, and the stall owners are all ethnic minorities. What do you do?

The fire in the tandoor oven in the square burned brighter and brighter. The old man Maimaiti's white beard was slightly yellowed by the smoke, but he still smiled like a child.

He directed the villagers to sort the beef and mutton delivered by the people from the military reclamation city.

Lamb is best roasted on red willow branches, beef brisket should be stewed in a large pot, and beef ribs should be braised in a tandoor oven.

A Han Chinese man in a blue cloth jacket carried over half a carcass of freshly skinned camel meat and slammed it onto the cutting board.
"Ye Mao's grandfather helped my family install power lines back then. He was frozen in the Gobi Desert for three days and three nights. This camel is the first one slaughtered in winter for my family. Today, we have to let the whole town have a taste!"

The Uyghur stall owner, Abdullah, wiped his sweat and was about to say "No, you mustn't," when the other person had already pulled out a knife and started deboning:
"You won't accept it? Then I'll chop the meat into minced meat right now and throw it into the fountain in the square!"

This tug-of-war lasted from dawn until noon, eventually even causing vegetable vendors' tricycles to get stuck at the street corner.

Sister Li's car was piled high with baskets of tomatoes and green peppers, which she insisted on stuffing into the barbecue stall's condiment pile:
"When Dr. Ye treated my mother for diabetes, he always told her to eat more vegetables. These are all grown in my own greenhouse and have no pesticides!"

Renaguli, who was selling naan next door, had already piled up her naan into a small mountain. When she saw someone giving her flour, she simply brought over her dough mixer.
"Make sure there's plenty of naan bread baked today, so that Ye Mao and his wife know that life in the military reclamation city is like this naan—the more you chew, the more delicious it becomes!"

The midday sun was warming people when suddenly the roar of a tractor echoed from the east side of the square.

Wang Laowu was driving his old Dongfeng truck, which was painted with the words "First Truck of the Military Reclamation Army". Twenty military green water bottles were stacked in the truck bed, with red silk plugs on the mouths of the bottles.

He jumped out of the car and shouted at the top of his lungs, "This is my family's homemade jujube wine. Grandpa Ye Mao drank this when he helped deliver my baby! There's plenty for everyone today. Anyone who doesn't drink is disrespecting me!"

No sooner had the words been spoken than Kazakh herders rode up on horseback, their saddlebags laden with mare's milk wine. The horses' hooves kicked up dust as they sang, cracking their whips:

"The kindness of the Ye family is higher than the Tianshan Mountains, and the mare's milk wine should flow like a river!"

A burst of laughter suddenly erupted from the crowd. Grandpa Zhang, the popsicle vendor, pushed his bicycle through the crowd, stuffing mung bean ice into people's hands.

"My grandson said he wanted to be Ye Mao's flower boy. He saved up his allowance for half a year to buy these popsicles. He'll get angry if anyone doesn't eat them!"

Maimaiti, who was making naan next to him, had already adjusted the temperature of the tandoor oven to the perfect level. The dough spun in his hands and, in the blink of an eye, transformed into patterned naan dough.
"I wrestled with Dr. Ye when we were young. He lost two jin of mutton to me. Today I'm going to return the favor with two hundred jin!"

Yifei stood at the window of the management committee office, watching the surging crowds in the square, her pen hovering over her notebook for a long time.

She had just received a call from Lao Zhang at the Water Resources Bureau that morning, saying that his department wanted to pool their money to buy a water purifier for the new employee, but she firmly refused.

But at that moment, she saw Old Zhang squatting in front of the barbecue stall, his hands, which were being skewered with meat, were red from the hot oil, and he was muttering:

"When Ye Mao was little, he always came to my house for meals. His favorite food was the lamb skewers that my wife grilled..."

At 3 p.m., the restaurants in Junken City suddenly changed.

A sign with red paper and black lettering was posted on the glass door of "Old Ma's Noodle Shop": All food is free today!
The owner, Ma Jianguo, was wearing an apron and serving beef noodles when he saw someone slipping money into the cashier's pocket. His eyes widened in surprise.
"Are you slapping me in the face? Dr. Ye treated my father back then and didn't charge me a single penny. What's this bowl of noodles compared to that?"

The customer in the suit got impatient and slammed the money on the table.
"Why should you be the one to express your feelings? I had a fever last month, and everyone in Junken City is grateful to Ye Yuze for what it is today."

The two were struggling when the owner of the steamed bun shop next door poked her head out and shouted:
"Stop arguing! Come here and get two baskets of steamed buns, it's on you two!"

The "Western Regions Flavors" restaurant was even more lively. Owner Ali tore up the menu and instructed the head chef to prepare hand-pulled rice.
"Ye Mao helped me with the paperwork for my daughter's university acceptance letter, so I have to make sure she gets enough to eat today!"

Old Wang, a construction worker who had just arrived from the construction site, insisted on stuffing the change from his hard hat into Aili's pocket.
"My son was able to get into a bilingual school entirely thanks to Secretary Yifei's help. If you won't accept this little bit of money, I'll bring you steel bars from the construction site to use as a signboard!"

The two pushed and shoved each other, knocking over a bottle of vinegar. The sour aroma mixed with the fragrance of pilaf filled the entire shop, while the onlookers clapped and cheered.

The most ingenious one was the "Military Reclamation Hotel." Manager Zhao Gang simply turned the cashier into a "charity registration desk," where anyone who wanted to pay had to leave a story related to the Ye family.

Retired teacher Liu Shuqin, pen in hand, her reading glasses slipping down to the tip of her nose, said, "In 1986, I had a difficult childbirth. Dr. Ye braved a blizzard to come to my aid. His medicine kit was still covered in snow..."

Xiao Ma, who was driving a taxi next to me, snatched the pen: "I was in a car accident a couple of years ago. Ye Mao carried me for three kilometers to find a hospital. His clothes were soaked in blood!"

In less than half an hour, the register was filled with five pages. Looking at the crooked handwriting, Zhao Gang suddenly wiped his face:

“This isn’t an account book, it’s the family tree of the military reclamation city!” On the open space on the west side of the square, Ivana’s Ukrainian relatives were recording a video on their phones.

Her cousin Katya, wearing an embroidered apron, was led by the hand by a group of Uyghur women to learn the Meshrep dance. Her skirt swept across the dust on the ground, and her laughter was louder than the sound of the hand drums.

"In Kyiv, a wedding can only have a maximum of fifty guests, but here... here it's like the whole country is celebrating!"

Ivana's brother, Ivanovich, held up a cup of mare's milk, his eyes wide open:
"I just saw someone deliver a whole camel; that's the kind of gift you'd only receive at a state banquet in Ukraine!"

Suddenly someone shouted, "The bride is here!"

The crowd parted to make way for them. Ye Mao, dressed in the distinctive blue overalls of the military reclamation town, and Yi Fei, with a "Military Reclamation Pioneer" badge pinned to her red dress, walked towards them, surrounded by the villagers.

Suddenly, Aygul, the flower seller, shoved a bunch of Gesang flowers into Yifei's hand; the petals were still glistening with dew.

"I picked this in the Gobi Desert; it's stronger than roses from the city!"

An elderly Kazakh man next to him placed a hat embroidered with an eagle pattern on Ye Mao's head:
“My grandfather said that the person who is remembered by the whole city is the real Batel (hero)!”

Ivana's grandfather suddenly wiped away tears. He took Ye Mao's hand and pointed to the red flag fluttering in the wind in the center of the square:
“I have never seen anything like this in Ukraine. It’s not because your wedding was so grand, but because these people are looking at you like you are their own children.”

Ye Mao scratched his head and replied embarrassedly, "They're all here for my grandfather and father, it has nothing to do with me."

Grandpa said with emotion, "This is how Chinese people express themselves. They don't use slogans; it's affection etched in their bones."

As evening fell, a group of people carrying video cameras suddenly appeared in the square. Xiao Li, a reporter from the *Junken Daily*, squeezed to the front and shouted into the camera:
"Family members, look here! This wedding had no master of ceremonies, no red carpet, but three thousand people spontaneously celebrated. This is the warmth of Junken City!"

As soon as he finished speaking, his camera was blocked by a hand holding a skewer of lamb.

It was Nao Nao, who was live-streaming on her phone, her voice even louder than Xiao Li's:

"Did you see that? My Ye Mao's wedding was a massive, city-wide banquet! You can't buy that kind of extravagance with money!"

The online buzz was even more intense. The topic of the "Junken City Wedding" trended on social media within half an hour, with one netizen posting a comparison image:

On the left is a fleet of luxury cars for a celebrity's wedding, and on the right is a tractor procession from Junken Town, captioned "Some blessings can't be bought with money."

Overseas netizens were in an uproar, with some asking, "Why would a stranger give away a whole camel?"
A netizen from the military reclamation area retorted: "Because the Ye family has cured our grandfather's illness, taught our father to read, and helped our children find jobs for generations—how much do you think we should give them?"

Ye Wancheng was originally taking Old John for a stroll around, letting him experience the festive atmosphere of the military reclamation city.

As a result, he was pushed to the center of the square by the villagers. Looking at the fireworks filling the street, the old man suddenly raised his wine glass, his hands trembling:

"When I came to the military reclamation area in my youth, I thought my life would be spent farming and watching the Gobi Desert. I never imagined that people's hearts could grow into a bond even stronger than crops..."

Before he could finish speaking, everyone in the room raised their glasses. The aroma of the red willow roasted meat mingled with the sweetness of the jujube wine, spreading like a warm sea in the twilight.

Xiao Di quietly nudged Ye Mao's hand. Looking at the elderly people dancing the Meshrep, the children holding popsicles, and the reporters carrying cameras, they suddenly understood:

Some sentiments can never be confined by rules and regulations. Just like the wind in this military reclamation city, blowing across the Gobi Desert and through the wheat fields, it will eventually become a song in the hearts of millions.

As night deepened, the tandoor oven in the square remained burning brightly. Maimaiti, selling lamb skewers, was counting his skewers when he suddenly noticed a strange new helper—

It was Ye Shan from the capital, clumsily skewering meat, oblivious to the oil splattering all over his suit.

In the distance, Ivana's Ukrainian relatives were tap dancing to the rhythm of hand drums, their laughter mingling with the dialect of the military reclamation town, brewing the strongest liquor under the starry sky.

What was intended to be a low-key wedding turned into a festival in the military reclamation city.

Just like many years ago, when those pioneers planted the first red flag in the Gobi Desert, they probably didn't expect that what they planted was not only crops, but also feelings that last longer than the years.

Wang Honghua picked up a cup of wine and drank it all in one gulp. The old Empress Dowager Meihua cursed:
"How old are you? How can you drink like this? Can't you control yourself?"

Wang Honghua laughed: "Mom, can you leave me alone today? I've been restraining myself my whole life, but today I want to get drunk just this once."

Mei Hua pouted and ignored her, while Ye Yuze poured her another cup:
"Let's cancel the contract. I'll take you to the farm when you come back."

Wang Honghua shook her head: "I can't retire. There are so many things to do. My fate is to eventually fall on my post."

Ye Yuze didn't say anything more. He loved and respected this woman. In a sense, if everyone in the world were like Wang Honghua, the world would be a wonderful place.

Ye Yufan's eyes welled up with tears: "Sister, don't work so hard in the future. There's no end to the work."

Ye Yuping, who has rarely returned to Junken City in recent years, silently watched the bustling crowd in the square, his eyes also moist.

He said to the fourth brother, who was silently drinking his wine in sips:

"Such a thing could never happen in the United States."

The fourth brother nodded: "Different perspectives, different understandings. Father and eldest brother's lives were worthwhile."

Ye Yuze turned to his two younger brothers and said, "Actually, you have also done a lot, but no one knows about it. But history will remember you."

The Ye family children had no idea what kind of influence they should be aware of. Led by Ye Fei, they darted around in the crowd.

Seeing delicious food, he reached out and grabbed it, while Ye Guigen kept shouting:
"My great-grandfather was Ye Wancheng!"

Ye Fei reached out and patted him on the head: "Don't just say things like that!"

Ye Guigen retorted, "That's exactly right, why can't I say it?"

The surrounding crowd unanimously supported Ye Guigen: "You can say that, you should be proud to be members of the Ye family!"

Ye Guigen proudly raised his head and rolled his eyes at Ye Fei.

Ye Yingying tugged at his ear: "Fourth brother is afraid you'll embarrass the Ye family!"