Great Power Reclamation

Mwanza Industrial Zone, on the eastern shore of Lake Victoria, East African Republic.

At four in the morning, Karum woke up. He got up quietly so as not to wake his wife, who was seven months pregnant.

Outside, it was still pitch black, but in the distance, the industrial park was already a sea of ​​lights—that was the newly built solid-state battery pilot plant, operating 24 hours a day.

Karum was among the first local skilled workers at the factory.

Three months ago, he was just a porter carrying sacks at the Kisumu Wharf, earning barely enough to make ends meet each day.

The change began with a sign—the "Sunrise Transformation Training Program," a joint initiative of the Royal Foundation and the Department of Energy, offering free training in electrical engineering, mechanics, and chemical engineering. Karum enrolled; out of 300 applicants, 30 would be accepted, and he ranked fifth.

Wearing his brand-new dark blue overalls, Karum stood ramrod straight as he swiped his card to enter the factory area.

Three signs hang at the entrance to the factory: on the left is the gold emblem of the Ministry of Energy of the East African Republic, in the middle is the logo of the Ye Family Foundation (a tree with roots entwined around the earth), and on the right is a German sign—the original name of the research institute that was acquired.

"Kalum, good morning!" Old Zhao, the foreman, greeted him in broken Swahili.

Old Zhao is a Chinese man in his fifties. He was sent by the Warrior Group to guide the installation of the production line.

At first, the workers were a little afraid of this stern old man. But two weeks ago, a precision injection molding machine in the factory broke down. The experts from John said that the parts would need to be airlifted and would take three days. But Old Zhao used scraps from the workshop and a 3D printer to make a replacement part in four hours.

"Old Zhao, are we still testing Line 3 today?" Karum asked.

“The plan has been changed.” Old Zhao handed over a work order. “Her Majesty the Queen is coming to inspect this afternoon. We need to assemble the finished batteries from Line 1 into demonstration modules. You will take three people to be responsible for terminal packaging.”

Karum's heart skipped a beat. The Queen was coming here? He recalled two months ago, at the graduation ceremony at the training center, when Queen Ye Rou personally presented them with their certificates.

The Queen's hands were soft, her voice gentle, but her eyes held a reassuring strength. She said:
"What you are learning is not just technology, but the future of this country."

The fully automated production line in the workshop has been started. Robotic arms precisely grasp battery cells, laser welding machines burst with blue sparks, and testing instruments emit regular beeps.

Karum's team was responsible for the final step: packaging the twelve battery cells into a black casing, connecting them to the smart management system, and labeling them "Made in East Africa".

"Can this thing really store that much electricity?" asked Malik, a young man in the same group, in a low voice. He came from a nomadic family in the former Tanzanian country and was herding cattle on the grasslands just three months ago.

“According to the data,” Karum said, holding up a palm-sized battery module, “this one can store ten kilowatt-hours of electricity, enough for a household for three days. And it can work even at minus thirty degrees Celsius.”

"Minus thirty degrees Celsius?" Malik's eyes widened. "The coldest we get in East Africa is only ten degrees..."

“So it’s sold to countries in the north,” Old Zhao suddenly interjected, pointing to a world map on the workshop wall. A red line stretched from East Africa, through the Suez Canal, and all the way to Europe.

“The Johns originally designed it for winter energy storage in the Alps, but now… Her Majesty intends to make it our flagship product for earning foreign exchange.”

At 10:00 AM, the first batch of demonstration modules rolled off the production line. Karum personally carried module number 37 to the quality control table—his lucky number, the day he was born. All the instrument's green lights were on, and all parameters exceeded design standards.

"Excellent!" Hans, the technical director from John's country, gave a thumbs up. This serious old man rarely smiled. "Karum, 100% packaging pass rate. You are the best hand in the whole workshop."

Karum blushed. He wanted to tell Hans that three months ago he couldn't even use a multimeter, but now he could not only read circuit diagrams, but also say "cathode," "anode," and "solid electrolyte" in Chinese—all taught to him word by word by Lao Zhao.

The convoy arrived at 2 p.m.

Karum and the workers stood in a line at the workshop entrance, their palms sweating.

Queen Ye Rou was not wearing royal attire, but rather a simple white jumpsuit, her hair tied in a ponytail. She was accompanied by the Minister of Energy and several foreign figures—reportedly investment representatives from China and the United States.

The Queen walked straight to the production line. She stopped in front of Karum's group, her gaze falling on the row of packaged battery modules.

"Is this what was produced today?" the Queen asked, her voice not loud, but loud enough to be heard throughout the entire workshop.

“Yes…yes, Your Majesty.” Karum tried to keep his voice from trembling. “I am Karum, the head of the packaging team. This batch of modules was completed by our team.”

The Queen picked up Module 37 and examined it closely. "It's 15% lighter than the previous generation," she said to the Energy Minister beside her. "And the cost?"

"The cost after mass production is expected to decrease by 40%, which is already lower than the current mainstream lithium batteries."

The minister quickly reported, "If everything goes smoothly, we can build the first fully automated mass production line within six months, with an annual production capacity to meet the energy storage needs of 500,000 households."

The Queen nodded. She turned to Karum and suddenly asked in perfect Swahili, "Karum, how long did it take you to learn these skills?"

"Three months, Your Majesty."

"Is it difficult?"

Karum thought for a moment and answered honestly:

“It’s difficult. I have to study until midnight every night. Master Zhao said that if I can’t learn the technical terms in Chinese, he won’t let me touch the precision equipment.”

The Queen smiled. Her smile was like the melting snow from the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro, clear and warm. "So, how many Chinese terms do you know now?"

“One hundred and twenty-seven, Your Majesty.” Karum puffed out his chest. “I came in first place in last week’s exam.”

In the crowd, Old Zhao secretly wiped the corner of his eye.

The inspection lasted an hour. The Queen not only visited the production line, but also the staff dormitory, canteen, and training center.

In the training room, she picked up a well-worn copy of "Fundamentals of Electrochemistry." On the title page was a note written by Karum in crooked handwriting: "For Aya and the unborn child." Aya was his wife's name.

The Queen paused for a moment. Then she said to the accompanying reporters, “Take a picture. Tell the whole nation—this is what the rise of East Africa looks like. Not a slogan, not a blueprint, but the image of a former dockworker studying technical manuals late into the night for his wife and children.”

As the convoy departed, Karum was summoned to the factory office. The factory manager handed him an envelope:
“It was Her Majesty’s instruction. She said to use this to buy a crib for your child after he is born.”

The envelope contained a Royal Bank draft, with enough money for the Callum family to live on for two years.

Karum stood by his office window, clutching the paper, watching the Queen's motorcade drive towards the next factory. As the sun set, the lights of the industrial park gradually came on, illuminating the lakeside that had once been nothing but weeds and pebbles.

He thought of his father. His father was an old fisherman who spent his whole life drifting on Lake Victoria. He always said, "The fate of people like us is like the weeds in the lake; we bend whichever way the wind blows."

But now, Karum feels that he might become a tree. To take root deep into this land, and then grow upwards, tall enough that Aya and her future children can see a view their father has never seen.

My phone vibrated. It was a message from Aya: "The Queen came to your factory? It's being broadcast live on TV! I saw you, standing in the front row!"

Callum replied, "Yes. The Queen said our work is important."

Aya quickly replied: "Of course it's important. You're building the future, my engineer."

Mr. Engineer. Karum looked at the title repeatedly, and suddenly his nose tingled with emotion.

He looked up. In the workshop, the night shift workers had already taken over, and the production line continued to run. Those black battery modules were being produced one after another, like black building blocks, soon to form the cornerstone of this country's new energy.

He was one of the people who built the blocks.
-
Kremchenchog, on the banks of the Dnieper River, in the country of Ermao.

The winter wheat had just been sown, and Sergei Petrovich, leaning on his hoe, gazed at his 500 hectares of land in a daze.

This year marks his sixtieth birthday and his fortieth year as a farmer.

Over the past forty years, he has experienced collective farms, the chaos of the early days of independence, the exploitation of oligarchic monopolies, and now... he doesn't even know what to call it.

"Dad!" His son, Andrei, drove up in a brand-new seed planter, the back of which bore a bilingual sign: "Junkencheng Intelligent Seeding System." "The third block is finished, but there are still 15% of the seeds left. Should we replant?"

Sergei glanced at the sky. Dark clouds were gathering, and the weather forecast predicted rain tonight. "No need. The 15% reserve is just enough to cover any germination rate loss. These new seeds are too precious; we should use them sparingly."

Andrei jumped off the train. This 25-year-old had just graduated from Kyiv Agricultural University and was full of new ideas.

He took out his tablet and pulled up soil monitoring data: "Dad, look, after using the microbial amendment from East Africa, the soil organic matter increased by 0.8%, and the pH value stabilized. According to the plan provided by Governor Ye, we can try crop rotation of soybeans next year to fix nitrogen and increase yield."

“Governor Ye…” Sergei murmured repeatedly. Three months ago, the young governor, who was half foreign, came to the town and held a farmers’ meeting that lasted all day.

Sergei still remembers what Marshal Ye said: "We are not trying to change the farming methods that you have passed down for generations. We want to make every drop of your sweat turn into real benefits."

At first, no one believed it. It wasn't until Marshal Ye signed a contract on the spot: to purchase all agricultural products using the new technology at a price 10% higher than the market price, and to provide a three-year interest-free loan for agricultural machinery. Half the farmers in the town signed the contract; Sergei was the first.

"Dad, what are you thinking about?" Andrei asked.

“I was thinking about your grandfather.” Sergei lit a cigarette. “During the Great Famine of 1933, your grandfather’s brother starved to death on this very land. Later, in those times, the grain was confiscated, and we survived on potatoes. And then… sigh.”

Andrei fell silent. He knew what his father hadn't said—later came an oligopoly, the purchase price was driven below cost, and a year's hard work by farmers often only covered loan repayments.

“But things are different now.” Andrei grasped his father’s rough hand. “Governor Ye said that we will not only sell our grain to the EU, but also to China, East Africa, and even back to Russia. We want to become the granary of Eurasia, not just someone’s cheap source of raw materials.”

Sergei looked at his son's young and determined face and suddenly smiled: "You are more promising than me. I've farmed all my life, only thinking about how to survive. What you are planting is 'the future'."

Raindrops began to fall. The father and son ran back to the warehouse to take shelter from the rain. Inside the warehouse, brand-new dryers and sorting machines stood quietly; they had been purchased with a loan provided by Marshal Ye.

The nameplate on the side of the machine has two lines of text: one in Russian, "For the bountiful harvest of the land," and the other in Chinese, "Food is the first necessity of the people."

“Andrei,” Sergei suddenly said, “when this wheat is harvested, take some of the money and go to Kiev for further studies. Study agricultural management and international trade. Our Sergei family can’t just be farmers forever.”

"That farm..."

“I can still do it.” The old man straightened his back. “Besides, didn’t the technicians sent by Governor Ye say that they are developing a mobile app to remotely guide field management? Even if you’re in Kyiv, you can see how well every wheat stalk in the field is growing.”

The rain was getting heavier. The tin roof of the warehouse was being battered and rattled, but to Sergei, it was the prelude to a bountiful harvest.

He recalled another statement Marshal Ye Jianying made at the peasant conference: "Agriculture is the oldest industry, but it is also becoming the most cutting-edge industry. We need to use satellite positioning for farming, genetic engineering for breeding, and blockchain to track the whereabouts of grain—but all these technologies must ultimately return to one origin: to allow those who farm to live with dignity." Dignity. Sergei chewed on this word. For sixty years, he had experienced war, famine, turmoil, and exploitation, but no one had ever told him: You deserve dignity.

And now, a young governor in his thirties, a queen far away in East Africa, a financial tycoon in New York, a high-ranking government official in Beijing, and an intelligence expert in the Russian army—these big shots have woven a web that has somehow included him, an old farmer on the banks of the Dnieper River.

The rain stopped. The setting sun shone golden rays through the gaps in the clouds, illuminating the damp fields and the newly sown seeds.

Andrei opened the warehouse door, and the smell of dirt and rain rushed out. "Dad, look!"

A complete rainbow appeared on the horizon, one end resting on their wheat field, the other disappearing into the distant horizon.

Sergei suddenly remembered a story his grandmother had told him when he was a child: the rainbow was a sign of God's covenant with mankind, promising never to destroy the earth with a flood again.

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “the other end of this rainbow leads to a new agreement.”
-
Huaxia, Pudong, Shanghai, the Asia-Pacific headquarters of Brothers Group.

At nine o'clock in the evening, the investment analysis department was still brightly lit. Twenty-six-year-old Lin Wei rubbed her sore eyes and finished checking the last piece of data.

The screen displays the title of the newly completed report: "Feasibility Analysis of Investment in the East African Solid-State Battery Industry Chain - Third Revised Edition".

She was the core analyst for this project team, and had just been headhunted from Wall Street three months ago. The headhunter was very direct:

"Brother Group is building an energy network spanning three continents, and we need top young people. Your task is to use data to prove the feasibility of this network."

At first, Lin Wei thought this was just another capital game. But when she saw the surveillance video of the East African factory—the sight of those African youths her age working intently on the assembly line;

When she read the interview transcript with the farmer from Er Mao Guo—the light in the old man's eyes when he talked about the new seeds;

When she analyzed the $2.7 billion in education funds that the Ye Family Foundation had invested in East Africa over the past five years, which had built 300 schools and 50 vocational training centers…

She began to believe that this was more than just a game.

"Lin Wei, it's a video conference with President Ye." The assistant knocked on the door.

Lin Wei quickly tidied her equipment and connected to the encrypted line. Ye Feng's image appeared on the screen, with a New York night background.

“I’ve read the third version of the report.” Ye Feng got straight to the point. “I basically agree with your proposed three-step investment plan. But there’s one question—what’s the basis for your prediction that the East African battery factory will achieve a 95% yield rate? The highest record currently held by John’s original equipment manufacturer is 92%.”

Lin Wei pulled up a set of data: "President Ye, we analyzed the trial production data of the East African factory over the past three months. Although the equipment, raw materials, and processes are identical to those of the original factory in John, there are two different variables:"

"First, East Africa has better power stability than Johns Hopkins University, with voltage fluctuations below 0.5%, which is crucial for precision manufacturing;"

"Secondly, and more importantly, the training investment for East African workers is three times that of workers in the United States. Our Chinese engineers reported that the learning curve for local employees is exceptionally steep, with many reaching the proficiency level of workers in the United States within a year in just three months."

She paused, then added, "This is probably because... for them, it's not just a job, but a life-changing opportunity."

On the other end of the screen, Ye Feng remained silent for a moment. “Very good observation. So, according to your plan, Brothers Group will invest $800 million in the first phase to acquire a 49% stake in the battery factory, with the remaining 51% held by the East African Development Fund and the employee stock ownership platform—how can this structure guarantee the safety of our investment?”

“Triple protection.” Lin Wei switched the screen. “First, technology lock-in. The core patents and process formulas are licensed to our holding company in the Cayman Islands. The licensing agreement is linked to a performance-based agreement signed with the East African side—if they can achieve mass production and reach the expected yield rate within eighteen months, the patent fee will be permanently reduced by 50%; if they fail, we have the right to revoke the technology license.”

"Second, market binding. We have signed letters of intent to purchase with three new energy vehicle companies in China and two energy storage companies in the United States, promising to buy 70% of the annual production capacity after the East African factory goes into mass production. These agreements come with strict supply quality terms."

“Third, and most importantly—” Lin Wei took a deep breath, “President Ye, I suggest establishing a ‘Skilled Workers Scholarship Fund,’ funded by the Brothers Group, specifically to support outstanding young people from East Africa to study advanced manufacturing technologies in China and John. The condition is that they must return to their home country to serve for at least five years after completing their studies.”

Ye Feng raised an eyebrow slightly: "Charity?"

“No, it’s an investment.” Lin Wei looked directly at the screen. “Talent is the scarcest resource in this industry chain. We sponsor one hundred East African youths to study abroad. Even if only thirty of them become technical backbones, their loyalty and contributions to the factory will make all the investment worthwhile. Moreover, this is the best brand promotion—Brother Group is not a predator, but a co-builder.”

The meeting lasted forty minutes. At the end, Ye Feng said, "Lin Wei, come with me to East Africa next month. Her Majesty the Queen would like to see you."

"see me?"

“Meet the analyst who wrote in the report, ‘This is not a capital game, this is nation-building.’”

Ye Feng smiled. "By the way, I should tell you—my sister, Queen Ye Rou, has approved your scholarship fund proposal. She said the fund should be called the 'Sunrise Fund,' the same name as the training program."

The video cut off. Lin Wei sat in front of the computer, motionless for a long time.

My phone lit up; it was a WeChat message from my mother: "Weiwei, are you still working overtime? Remember to eat."

Lin Wei replied: "Mom, I did something today... that might change a lot of people."

The mother quickly replied: "That's good. Don't forget what your father always says—for ordinary people like us, being able to do something to make others better is the greatest blessing."

Lin Wei's father was a retired primary school teacher who never left his hometown county in his entire life, but he always taught his daughter: "Studying is not for leaving, but for returning in a better way."

She suddenly understood why she was so dedicated to the East Africa project. It was because there she saw the shadow of her father's generation of Chinese people—those who believed that education could change their destiny, that hard work could create the future, and that a country could rise from poverty.

And now she has the opportunity to plant this belief on another continent.

Outside the window, the neon lights of Shanghai burn all night. In this city with one of the fastest capital flows in the world, a young girl has just used her expertise to weave a touch of human warmth into the steel network spanning three continents.
-
A military research base outside Moscow, Russia.

When Ye Fei walked out of the laboratory, it was already 11 p.m. The Siberian wind cut like a knife on his face, but he felt nothing—the data from the three hours of live-fire testing was too shocking.

He climbed into the waiting military vehicle, immediately opened his encrypted notebook, and began drafting a top-secret briefing for Yang San. The core of the briefing was a technology codenamed "North Wind-S"—

This is not a weapon, but a revolutionary electromagnetic protection system that can disable the electronic equipment of all drones within a 500-meter range within three seconds without harming personnel.

More importantly, this technology can theoretically be modified for civilian use to protect critical infrastructure such as power plants, dams, and communication hubs. And its energy consumption is only one-tenth that of traditional jamming equipment.

Outside the train window, the lights of Moscow flowed like a galaxy. Ye Fei's fingers paused on the keyboard.

He recalled his conversation with General Vasily during the day. The old general had said:

"Ye Fei, I can give you this technology, and the price is negotiable. But I have one condition—you have to guarantee that after East Africa uses it, it won't be resold to our...potential competitors."

Ye Fei replied, “General, what East Africa needs most right now is not military expansion, but stable development. We will use this system to protect the newly built battery factory, agricultural demonstration zone, schools, and hospitals. And these are precisely the investment environment that Russian companies need most in Africa.”

"That sounds nice," the general sneered. "But you and I both know that technology has always had two sides in this world."

“That’s why trust is needed.” Ye Fei looked directly into the old general’s eyes. “And I am that bridge.”

The car stopped downstairs at the apartment building. Ye Fei didn't get out immediately; he took out his phone and showed the photos he had received yesterday—

It was sent by Ye Rou, a group photo of her two little nieces, Xu Guang and Chen Xing, on their 100th day. In the photo, the two adorable babies are dressed in traditional East African clothing, smiling carefree.

Ye Fei stared at the photo for a long time. Then he continued writing the briefing, adding a paragraph unrelated to military matters at the end:
"Third Brother, I have another informal suggestion: the Children's Hospital under the Russian Academy of Sciences has unique expertise in treating congenital heart disease. Thousands of children in East Africa die from it every year. If possible, I suggest inviting their team of experts to East Africa for technical exchanges, through the Royal Foundation. This would win hearts and minds more than any arms deal."

Click send. The encrypted report will then fly to the fortress at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro.

Ye Fei pushed open the car door, and a cold wind immediately filled his coat. He looked up; the Moscow night sky was devoid of stars, only covered by thick clouds.

But on the other side of the world, on the East African plateau, the stars should be shining brightly at this moment.

He thought that perhaps one day, the children of Xuguang and Chenxing's generation would live in a world that doesn't need so much encrypted communication, so much defense, or so many trade-offs.

What their generation needs to do is, before that day comes, use steel, wisdom, and even some unavoidable calculations to create a sky where children can look up at the stars.

He walked into the apartment building, and the motion-sensor lights lit up on each floor, as if illuminating his way home.

At the same time, in East Africa, in Mauritius, in China, and in Mauritius, countless ordinary people are participating in the weaving of this huge network in their own ways and from their own positions.

Some people are packaging batteries on assembly lines, some are sowing wheat in fields, some are analyzing data in front of computers, and some are testing technology in laboratories.

They didn't know each other's names, the stories from afar, or even what grand scheme they were participating in.

They are simply trying to live, working hard, and striving to make tomorrow a little better than today.

It is these millions of "better" moments that have ultimately flowed into the river of history, breaking down what were once insurmountable barriers and nurturing a new realm of possibilities.

Late at night, in the command center of Kilimanjaro Fortress, Yang San finished reading the briefing sent by Ye Fei. He walked to the holographic sand table, looking at the dense network of connecting lines and the points of light representing factories, farms, schools, and hospitals.

This tough soldier suddenly made a rare move—he reached out and gently touched the light spot on the sand table that represented the Lake Victoria battery factory.

The light shimmered slightly beneath his fingertips, like a heartbeat.

"Keep growing up," Yang San said softly, as if speaking to a child. "Grow strong enough so that the workers who stay up all night studying in the workshop, the farmers who bend over to sow seeds in the fields, and all ordinary people who live earnestly... can stand up straight and see tomorrow."

Outside the window, dawn is breaking in East Africa.

The first rays of dawn shone on the snow-capped peak of Kilimanjaro, then slowly descended, illuminating the forests on the mountainside, the cities at the foot of the mountain, and finally spreading across the entire Lake Victoria.

On the lake, a cargo ship fully loaded with battery modules is slowly setting sail, heading towards the distant north.

The people on board didn't know that they were transporting not only goods, but also the stubborn dream of a young nation and a web woven by three generations of an ancient family.

But the sunlight knows.

The sun shines equally on every inch of land, whether it is rich or poor, divided or united, past or future.

Under the light, all the roots are growing quietly, and all the connections are being strengthened silently.

The outline of a new era is gradually becoming clear in this ordinary yet solid growth. (End of Chapter)