Great Power Reclamation

Yang Geyong's almost roaring promise was like a boulder thrown into Song Qingyun's lifeless heart lake, stirring not ripples, but raging waves.

She stared blankly at the man before her, his eyes bloodshot, his hair disheveled, bearing no resemblance whatsoever to "Yang Daheng," but instead resembling a wounded lion fiercely protecting its cubs. Divorce? For her? To withstand the collapse of the sky?

Absurdity, shock, disbelief... After all these emotions subsided, a faint but real warmth actually seeped out from the corner of my heart that was almost frozen by despair.

The cold stares, exclusion, and slander she has been receiving these past few days are like countless needles pricking her most cherished pride and innocence. She thought no one could understand her, and no one would stand up for such a "troublesome" person as her.

But it was this man, whom she once found somewhat amusingly naive and who later brought her endless troubles, who, in the most rough and direct way, shouted out his trust and protection for her.

Tears flowed even more profusely, no longer just pure grievance and pain, but mixed with complex tremors that even she herself couldn't understand, and a trace of... a palpitation she dared not think too deeply about.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say "It's none of your business," wanting to say "We're not related," but when the words reached her lips, she found herself too weak to utter a decent sound; only her shoulders trembled slightly uncontrollably.

Seeing her crying so hard, Yang Geyong panicked even more. He was at a loss, wanting to wipe her tears but not daring to be abrupt, and could only awkwardly repeat:
"Don't cry, Teacher Song, don't cry... I'm here, no one can bully you! I'm going to settle accounts with those bastards right now!"

"No!" Song Qingyun suddenly stopped her, her voice hoarse with sobs, "Mr. Yang, please... please stop causing trouble."

She looked up at him through her tear-filled eyes, her gaze pleading yet also revealing a gradual return of reason:
"Things are already messed up enough. What you said... I... I don't know whether to believe it or how to respond. But please, at least for now, don't complicate things any further. I need... I need some peace and quiet, I need to think."

Yang Geyong's anger and protective instincts were somewhat extinguished by the clear-headed plea in her eyes.

He realized that his words might have been a huge shock and burden for her. He forced himself to calm down and nodded heavily.

"Okay, okay, I won't make a fuss. I'll listen to you. So...where are you going now? Is it safe? Should I take you? Or, I can have someone keep watch nearby to make sure no one bothers you again?"

His caution and respect eased the tension in Song Qingyun's heart slightly. She shook her head: "I'm fine, I just wanted to go for a walk. You don't need to worry about me."

"Then...then take this with you."

Yang Geyong quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket, shoved it into her hand without a word, and then tucked his personal business card (with only his name and phone number on it) into the phone case.
"You can use this phone for now; it only has my number saved in it. Call me anytime, anywhere! Take this business card; the number on it is on 24/7, and only I know it!"

His movements still carried an undeniable forcefulness, but the concern in his eyes was utterly genuine.

Looking at the heavy phone and the simple business card in her hand, Song Qingyun didn't refuse again. Perhaps, this was the only bit of warm security she could grasp at that moment.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice as soft as a sigh.

Looking at her pale and fragile profile, Yang Geyong felt a sharp pain in his heart, but dared not say anything more, and simply stepped aside to let her pass.

"You...you be careful. Remember, call me if anything happens!"

Song Qingyun nodded, holding her canvas bag, head down, and slowly walked past him, disappearing around the corner of the stairs.

Yang Geyong stood there, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked, and remained motionless for a long time.

He knew that some damage had already been done and couldn't be erased with a few apologies and promises. All he could do now was keep his promises, clear the obstacles, and then... wait.

Ye Yuze's men quickly sent back news, confirming that Zhao Ling'er had exerted pressure on key figures and organizations in Song Qingyun's circle through several intermediaries, using covert but effective methods.

Ye Yuze's expression was cold and stern. He immediately used his connections and influence to begin a reverse operation. He didn't make a big fuss; just a few phone calls and a few subtle hints were enough to make those people and organizations that had distanced themselves from Song Qingyun due to pressure or rumors feel a new, more undeniable weight in her presence. The winds of change began to subtly shift with the intervention of a true bigwig.

Meanwhile, the people he had arranged to be near Song Qingyun reported that they saw her leave alone, in low spirits but acting normally, and not engaging in any dangerous behavior. Yang Geyong gave her a cell phone but did not force her to follow.

Ye Yuze breathed a slight sigh of relief, knowing that the most dangerous moment might have temporarily passed, but Song Qingyun's emotional wounds would take time to heal.

He contacted Zhao Ling'er again. This time, Zhao Ling'er's voice sounded tired and hollow; her previous assertiveness and anger seemed to have been drained away.

“Ling’er,” Ye Yuze’s tone softened considerably, but it still carried a serious tone:

"My people have already started dealing with Song Qingyun's situation. The rumors will subside, and the cooperation that needs to be restored will be restored. But some damage is beyond our ability to repair."

Zhao Ling'er remained silent on the other end of the phone.

“Ge Yong went to see her, confronted her, and said some very harsh things.”

Ye Yuze continued, "I know you're upset right now. But Ling'er, listen to me, let's stop here. If we keep making a scene, we'll lose more than just a misunderstanding; we'll lose decades of friendship and the bond we've built together, and ourselves. Think about the children, think about the path you've walked together."

"He... really said he wanted a divorce?" Zhao Ling'er's voice trembled.

"He was angry and spoke rashly. But this time, he was genuinely furious and truly felt indebted to that innocent girl."

Ye Yuze spoke frankly, "Ling'er, the root of your marital problems doesn't lie with Song Qingyun, but with yourselves. Over the years, you've been too strong-willed, too controlling, and have gotten used to his concessions. His rebellion this time is an explosion of long-suppressed emotions."

"If you still want to save this family, what you need to do now is not to deal with outsiders, but to calm down, think about how to repair your relationship, and give him and yourself some space and respect."

Ye Yuze's words struck Zhao Ling'er's heart like a hammer blow. Her anger and grievances were gradually replaced by a deep sorrow and lingering fear.

She recalled the look in Yang Geyong's eyes when he last looked at her—a coldness and resolve she had never seen before. Perhaps… Ye Yuze was right? Had she really made a mistake? Used the wrong methods, and chosen the wrong enemy?
"I...I don't know what to do, Yuze." Zhao Ling'er's voice revealed vulnerability and helplessness for the first time.

"Don't do anything for now," Ye Yuze sighed. "Give each other some time. You should calm down too. I'll keep an eye on Ge Yong and make sure he doesn't do anything impulsive again. As for Song Qingyun, I'll handle it and try my best to make amends. We can talk about the rest after you've both calmed down."

After hanging up the phone, Ye Yuze rubbed his temples. He had temporarily suppressed the storm with a combination of force and patient persuasion, but the undercurrents beneath the surface remained turbulent. Yang Geyong and Zhao Ling'er's decades-long marriage had reached a precipice, and Song Qingyun had been innocently implicated and emotionally wounded. Their future depended on the choices and growth of these individuals involved.

At this moment, Yang Geyong did not return to his and Zhao Ling'er's home, nor did he disturb Song Qingyun.

For the first time, he didn't go to see Ye Yuze. Instead, he drove alone to a secluded hot spring resort on the outskirts of Beijing, owned by the Warrior Group. He needed some time alone to sort out this mess.

In the steaming hot spring pool, Yang Geyong closed his eyes, his mind flashing back to Zhao Ling'er's heroic appearance in the Corps when she was young, the hardships and support they had shared when they started from scratch, and the numbness of drifting apart over the years, leaving only control and coping.

A fleeting image flashed across Song Qingyun's focused profile as she played the piano, her faint smile when she received his clumsy gifts, and her pale, desperate, tear-streaked face this morning...

Guilt washed over him like a tidal wave, not only towards Song Qingyun, but also towards Zhao Ling'er. Was he a bastard? Absolutely a bastard.

Previously it was physical absurdity, this time it's a spiritual "escape." But he also felt stifled, feeling that in front of Zhao Ling'er, he was never the complete "Yang Geyong," but rather "Zhao Ling'er's husband."

The appearance of Song Qingyun was like a ray of light, illuminating his inner longing for "being respected" and "being purely appreciated," and also igniting his long-suppressed dissatisfaction.

Was divorce a genuine desire? In the moment of rage and extreme heartache for Song Qingyun, yes. But as she calmed down, thinking of all the moments they had shared over the decades, and of their children, those two words became incredibly heavy.

But his promise to Song Qingyun today was also genuine. He couldn't just stand by and watch that beautiful woman be ruined because of him. What should he do?
For the next few days, things seemed calm in Beijing. The harassment from Song Qingyun's studio stopped, and she was invited to participate in some academic events again. Although the atmosphere was still somewhat delicate, the obvious exclusion had disappeared.

She locked herself in her studio, rarely interacting with anyone, just burying herself in organizing materials, occasionally staring blankly at the cell phone with only Yang Geyong's number on it.

Yang Geyong sends a simple message every day, sometimes it's "It's cold today, wear more clothes", sometimes it's "I saw an article about musical instruments from the Western Regions, I'm sending it to you to take a look".

They never mentioned the conflict from that day, nor did they urge for a reply; they simply made their presence felt, conveying care and waiting.

Zhao Ling'er seemed to have vanished, neither contacting Yang Geyong nor making any further moves. She appeared to be genuinely pondering Ye Yuze's words.

Ye Yuze sat in the courtyard, like a general firmly in the central command tent, keeping abreast of the situation through various channels to ensure that no further waves would be stirred up.

He knew that beneath the temporary calm lay a fierce internal struggle and game of wits among the three people. Although the storm sparked by their "honesty" had been temporarily suppressed, the rifts and changes it left behind would profoundly affect the future trajectory of each of them.

Ultimately, whether they reconcile or break apart, grow or fall, only they themselves can find the answer in time.

Will Yang Geyong choose to return to the familiar but dull harbor, or run towards the glimmer of light that shines into his gloomy life?
Will Zhao Ling'er choose to set aside her pride and learn to respect others, or will she stand firm and fight to the death? Will Song Qingyun choose to stay away from trouble and preserve herself, or will she muster the courage to accept a passionate yet complicated true love?
Everything is still unknown.

But at least, the most dangerous storms have passed. The autumn leaves have all fallen in the courtyard houses, winter snow is on its way, and the spring in people's hearts may still be in a long period of dormancy and waiting.

The days slipped by in a fragile calm, like a lake covered with thin ice, beneath which turbulent currents surged, yet no one dared to tread lightly. Deep winter had arrived in the capital, and the winds were biting.

Song Qingyun locked herself in her studio, as if isolating herself from the outside world. Although the pressure of rumors and gossip had been significantly reduced due to Ye Yuze's intervention, the feeling of being strangled by an invisible hand and having her innocence wantonly smeared was like a bone-deep ailment, constantly gnawing at her heart.

She became unusually silent, rarely speaking to anyone except for necessary work-related communication. Her desk was piled high with ancient books and musical scores, yet she would often stare blankly at a particular page, her eyes vacant.

Yang Geyong's daily, unwavering, brief messages, like pebbles thrown into a deep pool, initially elicited no response and simply lay quietly in the inbox.

Looking at those clumsy expressions of concern—"It's foggy today, wear a mask when you go out," "The chestnut cake at the alley entrance looks pretty good, want me to bring you some?"—she felt a complex mix of emotions.

This person was the source of the disaster, yet he also stood in its way in the most direct way, even at the cost of a broken marriage.

She should hate him, resent him, but deep in her heart, the flutter that arose when he clumsily protected her, and his silent and stubborn companionship at this moment, made it impossible for her to harden her heart and completely sever ties with him.

She started replying occasionally, with short, emotionless sentences: "Thank you, no need." "Received."

This slight loosening allowed Yang Geyong on the other end of the phone to hold his phone and chuckle to himself for a long time, while also making him more careful to maintain a proper distance and never overstep the mark.

Physical exhaustion and mental depression eventually broke her down. One night, she developed a high fever and lay drowsily on the simple bed in the inner room of the studio. Her throat was so dry it felt like it was on fire, and her whole body ached. She didn't even have the strength to get up and get some water.

In her hazy state, an overwhelming sense of loneliness and vulnerability due to illness overwhelmed her. She recalled the malicious stares and accusations, and tears helplessly streamed down her face.

On the verge of losing consciousness, she trembled as she reached for her phone beside her pillow and instinctively dialed the only number she had saved.

Yang Geyong had just finished dealing with some group affairs that he had to personally oversee, and was staring at the ceiling of a guest room in the courtyard, unable to sleep, when his phone suddenly rang. Seeing that it was Song Qingyun's number, his heart skipped a beat, and he immediately answered.

From the other end of the phone came suppressed, intermittent sobs and indistinct babbling, along with what sounded like teeth chattering.

"Teacher Song? Qingyun? What's wrong?" Yang Geyong sat up instantly, his voice urgent.

"...I feel uncomfortable...cold..."

Song Qingyun's voice was so weak it was almost inaudible, with a sobbing tone and a distinct nasal quality.

Yang Geyong's mind went blank for a moment, and all thoughts of calmness and propriety vanished.

"You're at the studio? Don't worry, I'm coming right away! Wait for me!" He practically shouted, grabbing his coat from the bedside table and rushing out, almost putting on the wrong shoes.

On the streets late at night, his car once again sprang to life like a runaway horse. Arriving at the studio, he pounded on the door, only to be met with a faint groan. He could no longer care about anything else; he took two steps back, gathered his strength, and kicked the door hard against the lock!
"Bang!" The old wooden door swung open in response. (End of Chapter)