Great Power Reclamation

Chapter 2885 Reborn
Time loses its precise measure on the Gobi Desert, fragmented by the scorching sun, sandstorms, and endless labor.

The plum is like a seed forcibly stuffed into the Gobi Desert, clumsily and tenaciously trying to take root in the harsh environment.

Her hands quickly lost their original appearance. The blisters burst, and new calluses grew, layer upon layer, rough as sandpaper.

The wound on my palm, cut by the metal edge, scabbed over, then cracked open again with constant friction, oozing blood mixed with sand, causing excruciating pain.

My cheeks and neck were sunburned, with several layers of skin peeling off, turning red and black, and burning painfully.

Every day after work, when she returned to that simple prefab house where four female technicians were crammed together, she felt like her body was falling apart, and her bones ached.

When washing with murky, salty, alkaline-tasting "purified water," the towel felt like it was cutting into the sunburned skin.

The work was demanding and tedious. Besides climbing up and down with Lao Zhang to inspect the photovoltaic brackets and calibrate the sensors, she spent most of her time responsible for the most basic data recording.

Countless times every day, they bend over and crawl under the low photovoltaic panels, carefully checking every dripper in the drip irrigation line for blockages in the rising heat and glaring reflected light, and measuring the height, number of leaves, and soil moisture of each row of wheat seedlings.

The sand was everywhere, seeping into her hair, collar, shoes, socks, and even the gaps between the pages of her notebook.

The pen tip often gets stuck in the sand, making the handwriting crooked and messy. Sweat drips onto the notebook, immediately spreading into a blurry ink stain.

"Wumei, where's the soil moisture data for this row? What are you dawdling about?"

Engineer Zhao's stern voice always rang out unexpectedly.

"Xiao Wu, the No. 3 drip irrigation belt in the East District seems to be a bit clogged, the water isn't seeping in, go and clear it right away!"

"Plums! The logbook! Mr. Ye wants to see the evaporation comparison from last week!"

The orders were like the relentless winds of the Gobi Desert. The initial clumsiness and frequent mistakes resulted in relentless reprimands and silent shakes of the workers' heads.

On one occasion, she misremembered the number of a crucial sensor, causing Engineer Zhao and his team to waste several kilometers of time.

In front of everyone, Engineer Zhao slammed the notebook to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
"Did you even use your brain? Or are you just stuck in your journalistic ways? This is farming! This is life-threatening! This isn't a place to dabble in gossip!"

At that moment, feelings of grievance and shame, like an icy tide, almost overwhelmed her.

She squatted on the scorching sand, silently picking up the notebook covered in sand, rubbing the dirt off it with her fingers, her fingernails filled with black mud.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she forced them back. She couldn't cry! Here, tears were cheaper than sweat.

What kept her from collapsing, besides her stubbornness, was the occasional glimpse of Ye Yuze.

He was always on the move, constantly inspecting various parts of the project site.

Sometimes in the early morning, he would walk alone, hands behind his back, slowly strolling between the furrows of newly sprouted wheat seedlings, his rough fingers gently brushing the tender green leaves, his eyes focused as if he were inspecting a vast army.

Sometimes at dusk, he would stand beneath the towering wind turbines, looking up at the spinning blades, the setting sun gilding him with a golden edge, his figure silent and resolute.

He rarely spoke, and even less did he interfere with specific tasks, but whenever he was there, the entire base seemed to have a guiding star.

When the workers see his truck arrive, their hands move faster without them noticing, and their eyes are filled with awe.

Once, Wu Mei was squatting under the photovoltaic panel, carefully unclogging a drip irrigation tube that was blocked by mud and sand, getting her hands and face covered in mud.

Ye Yuze and Engineer Zhao happened to be patrolling the area. Engineer Zhao pointed in her direction, seemingly reporting something.

Wu Mei's heart leaped into her throat, her body stiffened, and she wished she could shrink into the ground. She heard Zhao Gong say in a gruff voice:

"...That new girl, named Wu Mei, is a reporter from the city. She's very delicate and clumsy, but...she can endure hardship and has never complained or tried to run away."

Wu Mei's heart sank, awaiting even harsher criticism.

Ye Yuze stopped in his tracks, his gaze seemingly fixed on her mud-covered back.

A few seconds later, his deep, calm voice rang out, not loud, but clearly piercing through the wind and sand:

"It's commendable that you managed to stay. This place is tough, but it also tempers you. You'll naturally become skilled at your work after a while. The key is to have the ambition to grow something different in this sandy place."

There was no blame, no belittling, and not even any special encouragement.

Those simple words, like a trickle of water seeping from a drip irrigation pipe, silently nourished the parched heart of Wu Mei.

A warm current suddenly washed away all her grievances and exhaustion. She still had her back to them, forcefully digging at the mud and sand in the capillary tube, her fingers aching from the rough tube wall, but the corners of her mouth couldn't help but curve upwards.

She understood; he saw it! It wasn't her clumsy appearance, but her stubborn "spirit" that refused to give up!
That evening, after finishing work, Wu Mei walked alone to a secluded sand dune on the edge of the base.

The setting sun sank below the distant horizon, painting the boundless Gobi Desert a magnificent golden-red hue. The wind continued to howl, carrying the chill of the night.

She spread out her hands, covered in scabs, cracks, and calluses, facing the afterglow of the setting sun.

These hands, once holding pens, now hold wrenches, digging into the soil, recording the breath of wind, sand, and wheat seedlings. Ugly, yet full of power.

She is no longer the journalist Wu Mei who tries to dig into other people's privacy; she is Wu Mei, the data recorder at the "Oasis No. 1" base of the Warrior Seed Industry.

The wind and sand stung her face, but she tilted her head back and took a deep breath of the desolate yet free air of the Gobi Desert.

The vague yet burning image in my heart—Ye Yuze—seemed to gradually become clearer in this vast world.

What she followed seemed to be no longer just that figure, but the will he represented to create life in desolation and ignite hope in despair.

That will, like roots buried deep in the ground, began to quietly spread in her heart.

The days move forward slowly but steadily amidst the wind, sand, and sweat.

Wu Mei's calluses grew thicker, and her movements became increasingly nimble. Climbing the photovoltaic support structure no longer required Lao Zhang to pull and drag her, and the numbers she wrote down when recording data became much clearer and more accurate.

Zhao Gong reprimanded less often, and occasionally one could detect a hint of "not bad" in his gruff instructions.

She began to truly understand what the green beneath this "blue ocean" meant—

It's not just a few wheat seedlings, but countless silent and resilient people like Engineer Zhao and Lao Zhang who, with their sweat and wisdom, have fought back hope inch by inch in the forbidden zone of life.

One afternoon, Wu Mei was replacing a set of wind speed and direction sensors at the edge of the photovoltaic array.

Under the blazing sun, the Gobi Desert felt like a giant steamer. She had just tightened the last screw and straightened her aching back when she heard an unusual commotion coming from the project office's prefabricated buildings not far away, mixed with excited chatter.

"Look! It's a video from Mr. Ye's side! It's coming back from Africa!"

"My God! Such a huge scene?!"

"She really makes us proud! No wonder she's President Ye's daughter!"

Africa? Mr. Ye's daughter?

Wu Mei's heart skipped a beat. She practically ran into the prefab house that doubled as a meeting room.

The small room was packed with workers and technicians who had just finished their shifts. They were all huddled around a bulky laptop connected to a satellite dish in the center, the screen illuminating their dark, tired faces, yet filled with excitement and pride. A video, clearly shot from the air by a drone, was playing on the screen.

The scene is breathtakingly vast: a corner of the African continent in a reddish-brown hue.

Shining silver dragons—those are ultra-high voltage transmission towers—rise like steel giants from a vast, deep blue ocean of photovoltaic power, stretching majestically toward the distant horizon!

That photovoltaic array is more than a hundred times larger than "Oasis One"!
Beside it, the white array of wind turbines resembled a dense forest, their huge blades slowly turning, stirring the scorching air above the equator.

The camera zooms in. A brand-new, massive substation stands on the edge of a photovoltaic sea.

Colorful flags fluttered in front of the substation, and crowds thronged the area. Countless Africans dressed in their various ethnic costumes gathered there, their faces beaming with pure and enthusiastic smiles, many waving excitedly at the camera.

What was even more eye-catching was the large group of yellow-skinned, black-eyed Chinese people gathered in front of the reviewing stand. They were wearing work clothes printed with the words "Warrior Energy" or "China Construction," standing straight with undisguised excitement and pride on their faces.

A clear, confident female voice with a unique rhythm came through the satellite signal, announcing in fluent English:

"...Today, the first phase of the 'Equatorial Light' photovoltaic-wind power station in the Kingdom of Marseille, a 200-megawatt integrated photovoltaic and wind power plant, is officially connected to the grid!"

"It will bring stable and clean energy to our people and to all those on this land who yearn for light! This is a new beginning for Marseille, and a testament to our struggle alongside our Chinese friends!"

The camera then cut to the center of the viewing platform. A young woman appeared on the screen.

She wore a well-tailored dress that blended modern style with the traditional red and black check pattern of Marseille, and her posture was as upright as an acacia tree in the desert.

The sunlight shone on her wheat-colored skin and long black hair. Her eyes were bright and sharp, and her gaze carried an innate dignity, while a confident and determined smile played on her lips.

It was Ye Yuze's eldest daughter, the Marseille Queen—Ye Rou!
"it is good!!"

A deafening roar of cheers and applause erupted from inside the prefabricated house. The workers excitedly slammed their fists on the table, and Engineer Zhao grinned broadly, clapping enthusiastically.

The video feed switched to another speaker. This woman was also young and beautiful, but her demeanor was completely different.

She wore an elegant robe characteristic of Somaliland, her long golden-brown hair was styled in an updo, revealing her beautifully shaped neck.

Her eyes were a clear, bright blue, like the warm waters of the Indian Ocean, and her gaze was calm and full of wisdom.

Her voice was soft and pleasant, yet equally powerful:
"The Somaliland 'Pearl of the Indian Ocean' power grid upgrade project, relying on the new energy technologies we jointly developed with the Warrior Group, will soon cover 60 percent of our towns and major rural areas!"

"Electricity is the lifeblood of development and the cornerstone for us to escape poverty and move towards the future! We look forward to continuing to work hand in hand with all our partners, especially our friends from China!"

This is Ye Mei, the second daughter of Ye Yuze, the Queen of Somaliland!
"Queen Shuangye! President Ye is so lucky!" Old Zhang slapped his thigh excitedly.

"Look at how impressive they are! That power station! Wow, it's much more impressive than ours!" another worker exclaimed in admiration.

"Haven't you heard General Manager Ye say that Africa is our bridgehead for exporting technology? Look how well this bridgehead has been built!"

Pointing to the figures in Chinese work uniforms on the screen, Engineer Zhao said in a loud voice, "They are all our compatriots! They bring honor to the country! They bring honor to our Warrior Group!"

The video ends with a panoramic view: as the sun sets, the massive photovoltaic array shines like a blue gem embedded in the red soil of Africa.

The brand-new power transmission towers stretch into the distance, like the veins of the earth.

The substation was brightly lit, illuminating the cheering crowd around it. A striking bilingual caption appeared at the bottom of the screen:

"The Road to Light - Warriors' New Energy Illuminates Africa's Future".

The video ended, but excited chatter still echoed in the prefab house.

Wu Mei stood on the outskirts of the crowd, her heart pounding in her chest, her palms slightly sweaty.

She was deeply shocked. She had thought that Ye Yuze's brilliance only shone on Junken City, and only on people like Ivana and Yu'e who were close to him.

Only now, looking at the steel forests and blue oceans rising from the vast African continent on the screen, seeing the same unwavering light shining in the eyes of the two Queen Ye Rous as their fathers, and seeing the pride on the faces of the Chinese compatriots who were sweating in foreign lands, did she have a sudden realization!

Ye Yuze was never a solitary peak belonging to just one person or one place.

He is a great lighthouse, his light shines upon the entire warrior group, upon the vast Gobi Desert, and upon the distant African continent!
What he ignited was a flame of loyalty like Ivana's, and a haven of gentle protection like Yu'e's!
They are the backbone of hard work in the wind and sand, like Engineer Zhao and Lao Zhang, and even more so, like his daughters, who have the ambition to ignite the flames of Chinese technology, ideas and hopes in a wider world!

The trust he placed in Ivana, the responsibility he entrusted to his daughters, the effort he poured into this Gobi Desert, and even his seemingly casual instruction to a "lost journalist" like himself, "Just find my wife"...

Everything points to the same core: people, and the values ​​that people create that change the world!
Just then, a steady footstep rang out against the noisy background, sounding exceptionally clear. The crowd automatically parted to create a gap.

Ye Yuze had arrived at the entrance of the prefab house at some point. He didn't look at the computer screen, seemingly already familiar with the video content.

His gaze calmly swept over the excited faces, finally landing on Wu Mei's face, who was still showing shock and realization on the outskirts of the crowd.

His gaze lingered on her face for a moment. There was no approval, no blame, only a knowing calm. It was as if he were saying:
"Do you see that? This is the meaning of what we are fighting for."

Immediately, Ye Yuze turned to Engineer Zhao, his voice not loud, but instantly drowning out all the discussions:

"Engineer Zhao, expedite the implementation of the trial planting plans for the newly arrived drought-resistant wheat seeds in the western district. The African sun won't dry out our work on the Gobi Desert. The windy season is approaching, so double-check the windproofing and reinforcement of the photovoltaic panels; there can't be any mistakes."

His voice was calm and steady, as if the shocking scene he had just witnessed was just part of his daily work.

After saying that, he turned and left, his tall figure quickly disappearing at the door of the prefab house, blending into the golden-red afterglow of the Gobi Desert at dusk.

The crowd's excitement continued, but Ye Yuze's brief words had already brought the work rhythm back on track. Engineer Zhao immediately began to shout:
"Did you hear that? General Manager Ye has spoken! Old Zhang, take some men and come with me to the West District! Xiao Liu, you guys, go and check each anchor bolt one by one! Get moving!"

The commotion quickly transformed into motivation. The workers suppressed their excitement, regained their focused expressions, picked up their tools, and filed out to their respective posts.

Ume stood still, not moving immediately. The screen had gone dark, but the magnificent blue sea of ​​light over the African continent, the confident figures of Queen Ye Rou and her companions, the proud smiles of her compatriots, and Ye Yuze's calm yet seemingly powerful glance were deeply etched into her mind like a brand.

She lowered her head and spread out her hands. They were rough, dark, and covered with calluses and tiny scars.

These hands are recording the breath of every wheat seedling on the Gobi Desert and protecting the photovoltaic panels that provide shelter for this fragile green landscape.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, another group of compatriots are transforming the "warrior" technology originating from here into sparks illuminating the African continent.

An unprecedented sense of belonging and value welled up within her, like a sweet spring gushing from the depths of this stubbornly transformed land, instantly filling her entire being.

She finally found her place—not as a follower looking up at the lighthouse, but as a part of that light, even if only a tiny spark.

She took a deep breath of the dry, scorching air of the Gobi Desert and felt clear-headed and resolute more than ever before.

Picking up her whiteboard and pen, she straightened her back, strode out of the prefab house, and headed towards the experimental field in the western district where new seeds were about to be sown.

The setting sun cast a long shadow of hers onto the golden sand, as if it carried a heavy, earth-rooted power.

At the same time, another voice was also rising in her heart: this man should not remain unknown like this. Although she was no longer a reporter, she should write all of this down.

It's not for herself, but because people like this, this group of people, should be known by everyone. This has nothing to do with her profession, but is a responsibility. Today's society is too materialistic; everything is measured in money.

So let's take a look at the values ​​of this group of unconventional people...

I'm here! Thank you for your votes, everyone! Salute!