Great Power Reclamation

Ye Yuze usually appears calm and unassuming, but that's only in his own eyes.

Once he touches on someone he cares about, especially his old friend Yang Geyong, who is so protective of his own, his business tactics are just as precise, ruthless, and never procrastinate.

Just as Su Da and her "cousin" were dreaming of a carefree life overseas with the huge sum of money they had swindled from Yang Geyong, the cold reality suddenly descended like a Siberian blast.

The tax authorities were the first to launch an attack. A well-written and well-documented anonymous whistleblower letter directly exposed Suda and her related companies' tax evasion activities, involving a huge amount of money and egregious circumstances.

Following this, several major international brands that had endorsement deals with Suda received detailed information packages about her "chaotic private life, misconduct, and possible fraudulent activities" almost simultaneously, along with preliminary evidence that her "cousin" was using shell companies to launder money.

Brands are most wary of the image risk of their spokespeople, so they immediately invoked emergency clauses, unilaterally terminated the contract, and sought exorbitant compensation.

That's not all. Several film and television projects that Suda was negotiating have had their investors withdraw their funding or postponed indefinitely for various reasons.

Her carefully cultivated public image collapsed instantly, transforming her from a "melancholy and artistic goddess" into a "fraud suspect" and "box office poison" that everyone avoided.

The media, sensing the opportunity, released a variety of negative stories selectively and systematically, a mix of truth and falsehood, enough to completely overwhelm her.

Suda and her cousin panicked. They tried to use their connections to smooth things over, only to find that their former "friends," who used to call them brothers, were now either switched off or avoiding them altogether.

Only then did they vaguely realize that they had kicked a steel plate that they could never have imagined.

"Is...is it Boss Yang?" my cousin guessed, his voice trembling.

Su Da's face turned pale. She knew better than her cousin that Yang Geyong, that rough man, did not have such meticulous and ruthless methods.

The image of Ye Yuze, the man who sat silently beside Yang Geyong in the courtyard, his calm gaze making her feel inexplicably pressured, came to mind.

She finally realized what kind of being she had provoked.

The supreme ruler of the warrior group, the man even Yang Geyong followed blindly! All her previous calculations and wishful thinking seemed so laughable and vulnerable in the face of absolute power.

She tried to contact Yang Geyong, hoping to appeal to his emotions, but the phone was always unreachable.

She finally managed to get through to Ye Yuze, expressing her willingness to return all the money she had received from Yang Geyong, only asking for his leniency.

When the news reached the courtyard, Ye Yuze and Yang Geyong were enjoying a pot of newly arrived pre-Qingming Longjing tea under the grape trellis.

"Now you know to back down?" Ye Yuze listened to his subordinate's report, a cold smile curving his lips. He spoke to the air, or perhaps to Yang Geyong beside him, "Where were you before? You should have thought of this day when you messed with my brother."

He gently put down his teacup and casually gave the instruction to the person on the other end of the phone:
"Tell her that the money, including principal and interest, will be compensated at an annualized rate of 30%, not a penny less. It must be transferred to the account designated by Lao Yang within three days."

"As for the ban..." he paused, "Let her issue a formal statement on her social media, admit her mistake, and permanently withdraw from the entertainment industry, and that will be the end of it. After all, she's a woman, and I don't want to go too far."

Is this what you call not wanting to go too far? Yang Geyong, who was standing next to him, twitched at the corner of his mouth, but felt inexplicably happy, like drinking iced plum juice on a hot summer day.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but ultimately remained silent. He knew that Old Ye was avenging him; the methods were ruthless, but… it was damn satisfying!
When Suda received this final "ultimatum," she nearly fainted. A 30% annualized compensation! That was practically equivalent to spitting out half of the money she had already swallowed, bones and all!

There was also the option of permanently retiring from the entertainment industry, which would mean losing all her sources of income and vanity! But could she dare to refuse? She didn't even dare to think about the consequences of not agreeing.

Three days later, Yang Geyong's almost forgotten overseas account received a huge remittance, the amount accurate to the cent.

Almost simultaneously, Suda posted a tearful (and possibly authentic) apology statement on her social media platform, which boasts tens of millions of followers:

He announced his indefinite retirement from the entertainment industry due to "personal reasons," then quickly deleted his account and disappeared without a trace. It is said that he went to a small Southeast Asian country with his cousin and has since faded into obscurity.

Ye Yuze kept his word and stopped there. To him, it was just like casually swatting a bothersome fly; the warning it gave far outweighed any actual pleasure.

His attention quickly returned to his worrying old brother beside him.

At this moment, Yang Geyong's mentality had indeed undergone a subtle change after these ups and downs. He was becoming more and more concerned about Song Qingyun, but the way he did it made Ye Yuze feel somewhat...novel.

He stopped spending money on it and started studying the guzheng.

He bought a bunch of related books and DVDs, and even though he was getting dizzy from reading them with his reading glasses, he insisted that Ye Yuze "tutor" him. As a result, he started snoring loudly while listening, only to be kicked awake by Ye Yuze.

Knowing that Song Qingyun often went to the National Library to look up information, he "bumped into" her a few times. Each time, he pretended to be very interested in a certain obscure ancient book and asked some "profound" questions that made people laugh and cry.

For example, he asked, "If this Tang Dynasty score were played on a modern zither, would the melody be correct?" This made Song Qingyun both amused and helpless, but seeing his sincere attitude, she had no choice but to patiently explain.

He also found out that there was a well-established shop near Song Qingyun's studio that made excellent Suzhou-style pastries, so he would have someone buy some and deliver them to her every few days, without leaving a name, only saying that he was a "helpful listener".

One time, Song Qingyun felt really bad because she delivered too many snacks. She followed the delivery slip to Yang Geyong's address, called to thank him, and her tone was filled with confusion and a hint of wariness.

Yang Geyong's palms were sweating nervously on the other end of the phone, and he stammered:

"No...nothing! I just think...you artists use your brains a lot, you need to replenish your energy! Don't feel pressured, if you don't like it, just throw it away!"

After hanging up the phone, he let out a long sigh of relief and boasted to Ye Yuze, who was watching the show, "See? I'm now on the cultural path! I don't touch money!"

Ye Yuze slowly poured cold water on the idea: "Are you sure the other person didn't feel harassed by a strange old man?"

Yang Geyong immediately deflated like a punctured balloon: "Then... what should we do?"

"Let things take their natural course, don't overdo it."

Ye Yuze offered eight words of advice: "Do you admire her as a person, or her art? Think it through. If it's the former, treat her like a normal friend and don't get involved in any of that pretense. If it's the latter, then be a good sponsor and don't disturb her life."

Yang Geyong pondered for a long time and seemed to understand a little. He stopped deliberately "bumping into" them and stopped sending them snacks like crazy.

However, when Song Qingyun's project encountered practical difficulties that required coordinating social resources (such as not being able to hire a certain old craftsman or encountering a bottleneck in an approval process), he would quietly help her solve the problem through the foundation or by using his vast and secretive network of contacts, still without leaving his name.

He would only occasionally attend a small, private concert by Song Qingyun, sitting in the last row with his eyes closed, pretending that he could understand the melodious music.

Sometimes, while listening, he would think of the vast grasslands and howling winds of northern Xinjiang, and feel that the sound of the zither could seem to travel there as well.

Ye Yuze shook his head at his cautious, almost clumsy manner, but felt a sense of relief.

This old guy, although he's still a long way from achieving enlightenment, at least he understands what "respect" and "sincerity" mean.

As for what happens next, who cares? Watching him slowly stir things up is quite interesting. This retirement life, thanks to having an old buddy who never stops, is anything but boring.

Winter has arrived in Beijing, and the first snow came quietly, the fine snowflakes covering the blue bricks and gray tiles of the courtyard houses with a thin layer of frost.

The old persimmon tree in the yard had lost all its leaves, leaving only a few small, red, frozen persimmons that stood out against the snow.

Ye Yuze, wrapped in a worn cashmere cardigan, sat under the eaves with glass windows, holding a yellowed chess manual in his hands. The purple clay teapot on the stove was bubbling and steaming, filling the air with the aroma of tea.

Yang Geyong, on the other hand, paced back and forth in the yard like a hyperactive child, glancing at the sky every now and then at the tightly closed gate, looking restless.

"Hey Lao Ye, what time is it? Why isn't he here yet?"

Yang Geyong raised his wrist to check his watch for the nth time. Although the Patek Philippe watch on his wrist, studded with diamonds, was dazzling under the snow, he was clearly not in the mood to appreciate it at the moment.

Ye Yuze didn't even lift his eyelids: "The appointment is for 3 pm, it's only 2:15 now. Quiet down for a bit, you're making me dizzy."

"I'm just... I'm just afraid the road will be slippery!" Yang Geyong muttered, then looked down at himself—today he wasn't wearing those flashy Tang suits or bright-colored suits, but instead a well-tailored dark gray cashmere coat with a light-colored shirt underneath. Even his signature white hair was combed neatly, making him less flamboyant and more... deliberately composed.

Even Ye Yuze had to admit that when this old guy dressed up properly, he did look somewhat respectable.

"I think you're not worried about the slippery road, you're just anxious." Ye Yuze finally put down the chess book, picked up his teacup and blew on it. "It's just a meeting, not a blind date, why are you so nervous?"

"Who...who's nervous!"

Yang Geyong, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, said, "This is out of respect for Teacher Song! He's a cultured person, an artist! We can't be too casual with him!"

I met Song Qingyun at the courtyard house today. The reason is that Song Qingyun's Silk Road ancient music project needs to record a performance video in a "historically rich Chinese courtyard" as promotional material.

Ye Yuze's courtyard, whether in terms of its layout or the atmosphere it exudes, couldn't be more suitable.

Song Qingyun was initially hesitant, feeling it would be too much of a disturbance. It was only after Ye Yuze personally called, saying it would be a good opportunity for his old friend to experience traditional culture, that she agreed.

At five minutes to three, the sound of a car smoothly coming to a stop could be heard outside the courtyard gate. Yang Geyong instantly stood up straight and subconsciously smoothed his hair again.

Song Qingyun arrived. She was still dressed simply, with her long, off-white down jacket open, revealing a light blue, Chinese-style modified top and dark trousers underneath. She wore a thick gray cashmere scarf, and her face was slightly red from the cold. She was carrying a dark-colored guzheng case in her hands, which looked quite heavy.

"Uncle Ye, Mr. Yang... I'm sorry to bother you." Song Qingyun's voice was as gentle as ever, with a hint of apology.

"No disturbance, no disturbance! Please come in, it's cold outside!" Yang Geyong stepped forward, wanting to take the violin case, but then felt it was too abrupt, and his hand froze halfway through, looking somewhat comical.

Ye Yuze stood up and smiled gently, "Qingyun is here. Come inside and warm up. Use the space you like. If you need any decorations, just tell Lao Yang and he'll help you." As he spoke, he gave Yang Geyong a meaningful look.

Yang Geyong immediately nodded hurriedly, as if he had received a military order: "Yes, yes, yes! Teacher Song, just give the orders! I'm strong enough to move things and furniture!"

Song Qingyun was a little embarrassed by his enthusiasm and smiled slightly: "Thank you, Mr. Yang. Let me take a look around first."

They finally chose the front of the main hall, where the space was open and the light, reflected by the snow, appeared soft and bright through the carved wooden windows.

Yang Geyong transformed into a diligent worker bee, carefully moving the armchair and tea table that were in the way in the main room. Then, according to Song Qingyun's request, he helped her set up the zither stand and put it away. The whole process was clumsy but exceptionally careful, as if he was afraid of damaging anything.

While Song Qingyun was tuning the strings, Yang Geyong stood far away beside Ye Yuze, watching intently with curiosity, appreciation, and a kind of focus that he himself couldn't quite explain.

Preparations were complete, and the camera was set up. Song Qingyun sat in front of the zither, closed her eyes slightly, and concentrated for a moment. When she opened her eyes again, her entire demeanor had changed.

That gentle tranquility transformed into solemnity and dedication. Her slender fingers lightly brushed the strings, and a clear, ethereal overtone rang out, as if instantly transporting one away from the snowy courtyard of the capital and leading them to the vast and distant ancient road and the west wind.

She was playing "Yangguan Sandie," a piece with an ancient melody that was sometimes melodious like a lone cloud in the sky, and sometimes melancholic like the sorrow of parting.

Fingertips dance and press on the strings, varying the pressure and tone, conveying a full yet restrained emotion.

Yang Geyong couldn't understand the complex fingering and artistic conception, but he could feel the essence of the music.

It wasn't the affected melancholy of Su Da, but a genuine, weighty emotion, like moonlight that had settled for a thousand years—cool and clear, yet penetrating to the very core of his heart. He suddenly felt that all the lively, bustling noise he used to enjoy seemed so shallow and noisy in the face of this music.

He glanced furtively at Ye Yuze beside him and saw that his old friend also had his eyes closed, his fingers tapping lightly on his knees in time with the syllables, clearly immersed in the music.

Yang Geyong felt a surge of pride. Look, now I, Old Yang, can appreciate this "high-class stuff" too!

As the music ended, its lingering notes echoed in the air. Song Qingyun let out a soft breath, recovering from her immersive state, her face flushed from exercise and tinged with a satisfied weariness.

"Great! That's wonderful!" Yang Geyong was the first to clap his hands loudly, startling Song Qingyun who had just finished her clapping.

Ye Yuze glanced at him helplessly, then said gently to Song Qingyun, "Qingyun, you've worked hard. This piece of music calms and soothes the soul."

Song Qingyun nodded slightly: "Uncle Ye, you flatter me. It's just that this courtyard is nice; it has a tranquil atmosphere and makes it easy to immerse oneself in the moment."

She turned to look at Yang Geyong, who was still excitedly standing there, and said sincerely, "Thank you for your help, Mr. Yang."

"No need to thank me! It's nothing!" Yang Geyong rubbed his hands together, his face beaming with smiles. Suddenly remembering something, he slapped his forehead:
"Oh, right! Teacher Song must be tired and cold! I had someone prepare something hot for her!"

He jogged to the kitchen and soon returned carrying a tray with two steaming bowls of sweet fermented rice balls sprinkled with osmanthus honey.

"Quickly, eat it while it's hot, warm yourself up!" Yang Geyong solicitously placed one bowl on the coffee table next to Song Qingyun and handed the other bowl to Ye Yuze.

Looking at the bowl of sweet and warm fermented rice balls, and then at Yang Geyong's expectant yet somewhat apprehensive eyes, Song Qingyun couldn't bring herself to refuse.

She thanked them, picked up the small spoon, and ate in small bites. The sweet, warm sensation spread from her mouth to her stomach, dispelling the winter chill and relaxing her tense nerves.

Yang Geyong didn't eat any himself, but sat on a bench not far away, watching happily. He was more satisfied than if he had eaten delicacies himself.

Ye Yuze slowly ate his bowl, watching this scene with a shake of his head and a smile in his heart.

This old guy's way of pursuing people has "returned to basics"; he knows how to offer kindness now, which is an improvement.

Although the sweet fermented rice balls were cloyingly sweet, clearly made to suit his own sweet tooth, this clumsy gesture felt much more genuine than the previous flashy but impractical gifts.

The recording went smoothly, and after a few more shots, it was finished. As Song Qingyun packed her things to leave, Yang Geyong hesitantly approached her, holding a simple brown paper document bag in his hand.

"Teacher Song, this is just a small token of my appreciation, it has nothing to do with money!"

Fearing Song Qingyun might misunderstand, he quickly explained, "It's some scattered notes and rubbings of ancient musical instruments left behind by a friend of mine who used to work in Dunhuang. They're all jumbled up and I can't understand them. I thought you're doing research, so maybe you could use them. Consider it... consider it a thank you gift for that bowl of sweet soup!"

He spoke haltingly, but his eyes were exceptionally sincere. It was indeed something he had painstakingly acquired; it wasn't a valuable antique, just some peripheral information, but for researchers, it might provide different clues.

Song Qingyun took it, opened it, and her eyes lit up slightly.

Inside were some yellowed notebook photos and blurry photocopies of rubbings; the content was indeed obscure, but it was exactly what she was researching. This gift moved her more than any expensive luxury item.

She looked up at Yang Geyong, her eyes filled with genuine gratitude and a hint of inquiry: "Mr. Yang, this... is too precious. Thank you, I really like this gift."

Yang Geyong immediately felt comfortable all over, happier than if he had earned hundreds of millions, and grinned foolishly: "If you like it, that's good! It's not worth anything!"

After seeing Song Qingyun off, the courtyard returned to tranquility, with only the soft sound of falling snow remaining.

Yang Geyong stood with his hands behind his back, leaving a trail of footprints in the snow, humming an off-key tune, clearly in a very good mood.

Ye Yuze poured cold water on the situation: "Don't be too happy yet, there's still a long way to go. They were thanking you for the information, not for you as a person."

"I know, I know!" Yang Geyong said nonchalantly, still beaming with satisfaction. "Take it slow! I think this is great, really! It's much more satisfying than throwing money around!"

Ye Yuze looked at him, the snow reflecting the deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, as well as the rare childlike joy in his eyes.

Perhaps this old guy is truly different this time. Not because he's learned some advanced techniques, but because he's begun to understand that some things are more precious than money and require more patience.

The snow fell silently, covering the footprints in the yard, but it couldn't hide the warmth that quietly grew, belonging to winter.

Retirement life in this courtyard house is always full of unexpected "fun" and "vitality" thanks to Yang Geyong, an old friend who doesn't play by the rules.

Ye Yuze thought, this doesn't seem so bad. (End of Chapter)