Great Power Reclamation

Yang Geyong rushed back to Beijing from the military reclamation city early. This was the first time he had not spent the New Year in the military reclamation city. Although the children were unhappy, they did not say anything.

The restaurant for the New Year's Eve dinner was chosen by Yang Geyong; it was a quiet private restaurant hidden deep in a hutong. The private room was small, but elegantly decorated, with ink paintings hanging on the walls and a celadon vase on the table with a few sprigs of winter plum blossoms.

When Song Qingyun arrived, Yang Geyong was already there. He was wearing a dark gray Chinese-style coat, his hair was neatly combed, and he looked very energetic.

"Did you get stuck in traffic?" He got up and pulled out a chair for her.

"It's alright, the subway isn't too crowded." Song Qingyun took off her coat, revealing a light purple wool sweater underneath, which made her skin look very fair.

The dishes were ordered in advance, all of them being light and refreshing Jiangnan cuisine. After the waiter came up, he gently closed the door.

The private room quieted down, with only the faint sound of guqin music flowing from the speakers.

"How is your mother's health?" Yang Geyong asked.

"She's much better now, and she can go downstairs for a walk by herself." Song Qingyun smiled. "She even asked me to thank you on her behalf."

"You're welcome, that's right."

The two ate quietly, occasionally exchanging a few words about their recent lives. The atmosphere was very natural, like that of old friends.

After the meal, the waiter cleared away the plates and served tea. Yang Geyong looked at Song Qingyun and suddenly said:
"Qingyun, there's something I want to tell you."

"what's up?"

"About my past," Yang Geyong said calmly, but with a serious look in his eyes, "all of my past."

Song Qingyun paused for a moment, then nodded: "Go on, I'm listening."

Yang Geyong took a deep breath and began to tell his story, starting with his first love in the Production and Construction Corps, Chi Na'er.

“That was when I was nineteen, in the Production and Construction Corps. China’er was a Kazakh girl, with eyes like the lake water of the Tianshan Mountains.”

Yang Geyong's eyes were somewhat unfocused. "We were together for two years, and she got pregnant. We were young and naive back then. We thought dating was just dating, and we never thought about getting married and having children."

"And then?" Song Qingyun asked softly.

"Later she gave birth to a daughter named Ayijiang." Yang Geyong smiled bitterly. "Later, due to a misunderstanding, she got married and Ayijiang lived with me."

He paused for a moment: "Now Ayijiang is the boss of Northern Xinjiang, managing such a big area, but I rarely contact her. She is closer to Yuze than to me."

Chi Na'er... passed away the year before last. I attended her funeral and saw Ayijiang. She didn't blame me; she just said that her mother's biggest regret in life was not being able to be with me, and that she loved me very much.

Song Qingyun looked at him quietly, her eyes showing no judgment, only listening.

“The second woman was named Dasha,” Yang Geyong continued. “I met her when I was doing business in Russia. At that time, I thought foreign women were novel, so I slept with her, got her pregnant, and gave birth to her. It was the same old story: I paid her and she left.”

"Actually, Dasha loves me very much, and we also have a daughter named Yang Xue."

"Yang Xue is currently in Russia with Ye Yuze's fourth son, Ye Fei, and has already entered the political arena."

He smiled bitterly. "That kid Ye Fei is capable, and he and Yang Xue are very much in love. I went there last year and saw them. Yang Xue called me 'Dad,' but I could tell that there was no emotion in that 'Dad,' only politeness."

Song Qingyun picked up her teacup and took a small sip.

“Then there was Africa.” Yang Geyong’s voice lowered. “I’ve had many women in Africa and fathered six sons.”

Yang Da, Yang Er, Yang San… all the way to Yang Liu. Back then, I thought it was easy for Black girls to give birth; I just needed to give them some money. I never considered that they were lives at stake.

"They are all in East Africa now, following Ye Rou and Ye Meigan."

He looked up at Song Qingyun, “They all lived in the military reclamation city, and Ling’er took care of them. The moment they called me Dad, I wished I could find a crack in the ground to crawl into.”

"Because they don't hate you?" Song Qingyun asked.

“Because they don’t hate me.” Yang Geyong nodded. “They said they were grateful to me for giving them life, and grateful to Uncle Ye for giving them an education and a future. They said I am their father, and always will be.”

Tears streamed down his face: "But I don't deserve it, Qingyun. I really don't deserve it. I gave them nothing but a seed. I gave them no love, no companionship, no education. What kind of father am I?"

Song Qingyun handed him a tissue. Yang Geyong took it and wiped away his tears.

"Is there anything else?" she asked softly.

"Yes." Yang Geyong smiled bitterly, "Too many, I can't count them all. Domestic ones, foreign ones, one-night stands, long-term ones... I can't even remember how many women and how many children I have. I only know that I'm a complete scumbag in this life."

He raised his head, looking at Song Qingyun with a pained yet honest expression:
"Qingyun, this is the real me. I'm not a reformed good person, nor a man worthy of love. I'm an irresponsible father, a promiscuous man, and a fool who only understands what love is when he's old."

Song Qingyun fell silent. Looking at the tearful old woman before her, she was overwhelmed with emotion.

She knew he had been with many women, but she didn't expect so many. She knew he had children, but she didn't expect so many.

Any one of these stories would be an unforgivable sin for an ordinary woman. But strangely, after listening to them, she felt no anger, no disgust, only... a deep sorrow.

I feel sorry for the women he hurt, for the children who had no father, and for him—for this man who only understood responsibility and love in his old age.

"Why are you telling me all this?" Song Qingyun asked after a long while.

“Because I don’t want to lie to you,” Yang Geyong said. “Qingyun, I know it’s ridiculous for me to say I love you now. What right does a man who has had so many women and so many children have to say he loves you? But I still want to say it, I love you. It’s not the impulse of youth, not the desire of middle age, but the epiphany of old age.”

“I love you, so I want to show you my truest self. The ugly, the wretched, the sinful, I’ll show you everything.” His voice choked with emotion. “Then you can decide whether or not you want to accept me as I am.”

Song Qingyun stood up and walked to the window. Outside the window was the night view of Beijing, brightly lit and bustling with traffic.

She remembered many things. She remembered his nouveau riche appearance when she first met him; she remembered how he awkwardly tried to learn how to love her; she remembered how he stayed up with her at the hospital to keep vigil; and she also remembered how he said "take care" in Dunhuang three years ago.

This man's life is like a chaotic book. The first half is filled with absurdity and mistakes, while the second half... only begins to show clarity and responsibility.

And she was the last reader of this book.

“Yang Geyong,” she turned to look at him, “do you know what I love most about you?”

"……what?"

“I love your current clarity of mind.” Song Qingyun walked back to the table and sat down. “I love your courage to face the past, your determination to change, and even more, I love that you only told me you loved me after you understood what love is.”

Yang Geyong stared at her blankly.

“Those women, those children, are all your past,” Song Qingyun said calmly. “What I want is your present and future. You are willing to change for me now, willing to take responsibility for me, willing to give me all your love and loyalty. That’s enough.” “Qingyun, I…”

“But,” Song Qingyun interrupted him, “I have a question.”

"...You ask."

"Will I be your last?" Song Qingyun looked into his eyes and asked, word by word, "The last woman, the last relationship, the last love."

Yang Geyong stood up, walked to her, and knelt on one knee—not to propose, but to repent and to make a promise.

“Qingyun, I’m seventy-three years old this year.” He held her hand, his voice firm and clear, “My heart, my body, and the rest of my life are only enough to love one person. That person is you, and it can only be you.”

"I swear, from this day forward, you will be the only one in my eyes and the only one in my heart. I will use all the time, all the energy, and all the love I have left to make up for it, to love you, and to cherish you."

"You will be my last. I promise."

Song Qingyun's tears welled up. Looking at the old man kneeling on the ground before her, seeing the sincerity and determination in his eyes, her last line of defense completely collapsed.

So much time has passed. She thought she had let go, thought she could live the rest of her life alone. But when he reappeared, when he did everything for her, when he made his promises now... she realized that she had never truly let go.

That bastard, that prodigal son, that man who only understood love in his old age… She loved him. From beginning to end, she loved him.

“Yang Geyong,” she said softly, tears streaming down her face, “get up.”

Yang Geyong stood up, but still held her hand.

Song Qingyun threw herself into his arms and hugged him tightly. This was the first time in three years that she had taken the initiative to hug him.

“Then take me,” she whispered in her ear, her voice as soft as a sigh. “Give me a child.”

Yang Geyong froze: "Qingyun, what did you say?"

“I said, give me a child.” Song Qingyun raised her head and looked into his eyes. “I’m already over thirty, and I might not be able to have children anymore. But if there’s still a chance… I want your child.”

"Why... why?"

“Because,” Song Qingyun’s tears flowed even more fiercely, “I will never fall in love with another man in this life. You are the first and the last person I have ever loved. I want a child of ours, so that he can prove that we loved each other, truly and deeply.”

Yang Geyong was stunned. He hadn't expected Song Qingyun to make such a request.

A child? At their age?
But seeing the tears and determination in Song Qingyun's eyes, he suddenly understood. This wasn't impulsiveness or willfulness; it was a woman's last and deepest expectation for love.

She didn't want marriage—at her age, that piece of paper was no longer important. She didn't want promises—he had already given them. What she wanted was the continuation of a life, a testament to their love.

“Qingyun, you…” Yang Geyong’s voice choked with emotion, “Do you know what this means? You may have to endure a lot of criticism and pressure…”

“I don’t care.” Song Qingyun shook her head. “The only things I care about are you and the children we might have.”

"But your work, your academics..."

“Work and children don’t conflict.” Song Qingyun smiled, a smile that held both tears and light. “I can do research and raise my child at the same time. You’ll help me, right?”

Looking at her, at this brave, clear-headed, and proud woman, Yang Geyong felt an overwhelming surge of love and respect.

What did he do to deserve such love and such a woman in the final stage of his life?
“Qingyun,” he hugged her tightly, “if you’ve really thought it through, I do. I’m willing to give you a child, and I’m willing to use the rest of my life to love you and protect you.”

"I've made up my mind." Song Qingyun nodded in his arms. "I've thought about it for so long. From the day you left, I thought that if you ever came back, if we could be together again, I would definitely want a child of ours."

She looked up and kissed his lips. The kiss was deep and long, salty with tears, and sweet with love.

Suddenly, firecrackers went off outside the window. The New Year had arrived.

New year, new start.

For Yang Geyong, this marks the beginning of the final journey of his life—a journey filled with love, responsibility, and commitment.

For Song Qingyun, this was the boldest choice she had ever made in her life—choosing a prodigal son who had turned over a new leaf, and choosing to have a child at the advanced age of forty-five.

But they all went without hesitation.

Because love is never the sole domain of the young. Because responsibility knows no age. Because happiness, once it comes, is worth seizing.

That evening, Yang Geyong escorted Song Qingyun back to her hotel. At the room door, Song Qingyun took his hand.

"Stay tonight...."

Yang Geyong looked at her and nodded: "Okay."

That night, two passionate bodies were revitalized by love. They made love gently and slowly, as if performing a sacred ritual.

Afterwards, Song Qingyun lay in Yang Geyong's arms and whispered, "If we have a child, what should we call him?"

"You decide." Yang Geyong kissed her forehead.

"If it's a boy, name him Yang Qing. If it's a girl, name her Yang Yun."

"Okay, everything is fine."

Outside the window, New Year's fireworks burst in the night sky, dazzling and spectacular.

Just like their love, though it came late, once it blossomed, it illuminated the rest of their lives.

Yang Geyong held Song Qingyun in his arms, his heart filled with an unprecedented peace and happiness.

He finally understood that love is not the impulse of hormones in youth, nor the exchange of power in middle age, but rather, in old age, having someone who makes you want to become a better person, makes you willing to take on all responsibilities, and makes you willing to cherish them for the rest of your life.

Song Qingyun was the person he waited seventy-three years to finally meet.

She will be his last woman.

He will be her last man.

That's enough. (End of Chapter)