Great Power Reclamation

London experienced unusually high temperatures in May. Along the Thames, tourists walked in short sleeves under the blazing sun, while street performers played lively jazz music.

In the office of the "Cornerstone and Wings" Foundation, the air conditioner emitted a low hum.

Ye Guigen is reviewing his twelfth business plan. It's from a team in Edinburgh that has developed a new type of seawater desalination membrane that costs only one-third of existing technologies.

The technical specifications look impressive, but the founding team consists entirely of academics with no industry experience whatsoever.

He pressed the intercom: "Emma, ​​help me schedule an appointment with the founder of the Edinburgh project. I need to go to Scotland in person next week."

"Okay. Also, Mr. Schmidt will be here at two o'clock."

Ye Guigen glanced at the time; there were still twenty minutes left. He walked to the window, looking at the skyscrapers of the financial district. Mr. Schmidt had finally agreed to join the advisory committee, a significant milestone for the fund.

At exactly two o'clock, Schmidt arrived on time. The old man was wearing a three-piece suit and leaning on a cane, but his eyes were still sharp.

“Mr. Ye, it’s nice to see you again.” Schmidt shook hands with him. “Your grandfather called me a few days ago and told me that you started a ‘toy fund’ in London. Those were his exact words.”

Ye Guigen laughed: "Grandpa must not have said that the first phase of this 'Toy Fund' raised 870 million US dollars."

“He said it,” Schmidt said, sitting down on the sofa. “So he called and yelled at me, saying that my grandson framed your grandson and disgraced the Schmidt family.”

The atmosphere suddenly became serious.

"Regarding Max..." Ye Guigen wanted to ease the tension.

“Let’s not talk about that idiot.” Schmidt waved his hand. “I’ve looked at your fund’s materials. The idea is good, but execution is very difficult. Nine out of ten early-stage innovation investments fail. Do you know what that means?”

"It means we must find that 'one'."

"It means you have to withstand the pressure of nine failures."

Schmidt stared at him. "Pressure from shareholders, pressure from the media, even pressure from your family. Are you prepared?"

Ye Guigen was silent for a moment: "I won't start if I'm not ready."

Schmidt nodded and took a document from his briefcase:
"This is a list I've compiled. It lists the most promising early-stage teams in Europe in the fields of clean energy, medical technology, and artificial intelligence. I've met some of them, and I've only heard about others. But they're all better than the projects you're looking at now."

Ye Guigen took the document and quickly browsed through it. The list contained more than twenty teams, each with a brief introduction and contact information.

Why are you helping me?

“Two reasons,” Schmidt said. “First, I owe your grandfather a favor. Thirty years ago, without his order, my factory might have gone bankrupt. Second…”

He paused for a moment, then said, “I think you’re a bit like me when I was younger—wanting to change things, even if others say it’s impossible.”

The old man stood up: "I agree to the advisory committee. But there's one condition: I must attend every investment decision meeting. Not just for show, but to genuinely offer my opinions. You may not like hearing them, but I will definitely speak up."

I look forward to your feedback.

After seeing Schmidt off, Ye Guigen immediately instructed his team to contact the projects on the list. That afternoon, they scheduled a video conference with three teams.

The first is a Swiss quantum computing team with leading technology, but their prices are too high. The second is a Dutch agricultural technology company with a great concept, but the market is too small. The third…

"Mr. Ye, this is Zhang Wei." The Chinese girl on the screen looked a little tired. "There's been a problem with our AI diagnostic project."

Ye Guigen's heart tightened: "What's the problem?"

“The clinical validation data… is not as expected.” Zhang Wei’s voice was very low. “The accuracy rate is only 82%, which is less than the 95% we promised. The investors are asking us to return the seed round funding.”

"82% is already higher than existing technologies."

“But the contract states 95%,” Zhang Wei said with a wry smile. “Moreover, our competitors released a new product yesterday with an accuracy rate of 90%. Our technological advantage… is gone.”

A silence fell over the meeting room. This was the first project in "Foundation and Wings" to run into trouble.

"How much funding is needed to improve the algorithm?" Ye Guigen asked.

“At least three million dollars, over six months,” Zhang Wei said. “But the investors have lost confidence. They said if they can’t come up with a solution by next week, they will initiate liquidation proceedings.”

“I’ll fly there,” Ye Guigen said. “I’ll be in Cambridge tomorrow. You prepare all the data, and we’ll reassess it.”

After hanging up the video call, Ye Guigen immediately asked his assistant to book a plane ticket. Emma reminded him, "You have a dinner appointment with Miss Cavendish tomorrow afternoon to celebrate the foundation's one-month anniversary of operation."

"Cancel. Or postpone."

"What about Miss Cavendish..."

“I will talk to her.”

Ye Guigen hesitated for a moment before sending a message to Elizabeth.

For the past month, they've met almost every day to discuss the fund, and occasionally they'll eat out or watch movies like any other couple. But every time the atmosphere starts to warm up, they're always interrupted by work.

“There’s been a problem with the Cambridge project, and I have to go there tomorrow. Let’s reschedule dinner,” he wrote.

A few minutes later, Elizabeth replied, "Do you need my help?"

"Not for now. But we might need your help to keep the other investors on the side."

"Understood. Stay in touch."

Putting down his phone, Ye Guigen felt a wave of exhaustion. It was only the first month, and the first project was already facing a crisis. Schmidt was right; this road was more difficult than he had imagined.

The next morning, he flew to Cambridge. Zhang Wei and the other two founders were waiting for him in the lab. All three doctoral students had dark circles under their eyes, clearly having not slept all night.

"Here is all the data." Zhang Wei handed over a thick stack of documents:
"We analyzed the reasons for the failure. The problem lay in the training data—the existing medical image database had too little data on Chinese patients. Our algorithm had high accuracy for Caucasians, but not for Asians..."

“Data bias.” Ye Guigen understood. “So it’s not an algorithm problem, it’s a data problem.”

“Yes. But collecting enough data on Asian patients takes time and requires cooperation from hospitals,” Zhang Wei said. “Right now… we can’t get cooperation.”

Ye Guigen pondered. He grew up in China and knew the strictness of medical data management there. This wasn't a problem that money could solve.

“What if,” he said slowly, “we don’t collect data directly, but instead collaborate with hospitals in China to develop it? The foundation provides funding, the hospitals provide data and clinical environments, and you provide the algorithms. It’s a three-way collaboration.”

The three PhDs exchanged a glance.

“Which hospital would collaborate with us?” a male student asked. “We are just PhD students at Cambridge.”

“What if we add the Cavendish family and the Brothers Group?” Ye Guigen said. “Those two brands should be significant enough.”

He immediately called his father, Ye Feng. It was the middle of the night in New York, but Ye Feng answered quickly.

"Dad, I need your help."

After hearing the situation, Ye Feng said, "Brothers Group has invested in several private hospitals in China. I can arrange cooperation. But ultimately, you need to think carefully. Even if this project is saved, it will require a lot of follow-up investment. Is it worth it?"

“It’s worth it,” Ye Guigen said. “If our AI can improve the early diagnosis rate of cancer, even by just one percentage point, it can save many lives. Isn’t that what we originally wanted to do with our fund?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone: "Okay. I'll give you the contact information. But ultimately, remember, business is business. If this project runs into problems again, you must cut ties decisively."

"I see."

After hanging up the phone, Ye Guigen contacted Elizabeth again. She was in Paris for a meeting, but promised to use her connections in the European medical community to help connect with more partner hospitals.

Three days later, the plan was finalized: the Cambridge team retained 51% of the equity, but introduced two Huaxia Hospitals as strategic partners to share data and clinical resources.

The Cornerstone and Wings Fund invested an additional $5 million, with Cavendish Bank providing loan guarantees.

The crisis was temporarily averted, but Ye Guigen knew this was just the beginning. The project still faced technological risks, and the market risks hadn't disappeared. He had to keep a close eye on it, constantly.

On the plane back to London, he fell asleep. He dreamt that he was walking on the Gobi Desert in a military reclamation town, surrounded by endless yellow sand, with no road and no direction.

Great-grandfather Ye Wancheng suddenly appeared in front of him, leaning on his cane, and said to him, "Gen'er, you can't walk steadily on the sand, you have to step on the stones."

He woke up with a start; the plane was landing. Outside the window were the lights of London.

Walking on stones. Yes, investing is like walking on sand; every step must be on solid stones—technology is a stone, the team is a stone, and market demand is a stone. If you miss one, you might sink.

It was already nine o'clock in the evening when Ye Guigen returned to his office. He found the light still on, and Elizabeth was waiting for him inside.

Why are you here?

"I heard you were back, so I came to see you." Elizabeth handed him a cup of coffee. "How was it?"

"It's temporarily resolved," Ye Guigen explained briefly, "but we'll have to see what happens next."

Elizabeth nodded and took a document out of her bag: "Perfect timing, I also have a problem here. Take a look at this."

The document was titled "Feasibility Analysis of a Solar Farm Project in North Africa." Ye Guigen quickly skimmed through it, his expression gradually becoming serious.

"This is the sixth project we are preparing to invest in."

Elizabeth said, "But now we've discovered that there are tribal land disputes in the project area. The local government has approved the land, but the indigenous people don't recognize it. If we force the project forward, it could trigger conflict."

"What did the legal team say?"

"They say the risk is very high." Elizabeth smiled wryly.
"But if we give up, the initial investment will be wasted. Moreover, the project itself is excellent—it can solve the electricity problem for 300,000 people and create thousands of jobs."

Ye Guigen looked at the project photos. In the North African desert, solar panel arrays gleamed in the sunlight. Not far away, there were dilapidated villages and eyes yearning for electricity.

“I’ll go there,” he said.

"what?"

“I went to North Africa myself and talked to the local tribes,” Ye Guigen said. “If the problem can be solved, we will continue. If not… at least we have done our best.”

Elizabeth looked at him: "Do you know how dangerous it is there? Tribal conflicts, political instability, and terrorist activities..."

“That’s why we have to go,” Ye Guigen said. “Sitting in an office in London, you’ll never know the real situation. My grandfather said that to do real work, you have to go to the front lines.”

He recalled his great-grandfather traversing snow-covered terrain in northern Xinjiang, his grandfather building factories in the Gobi Desert, and his father venturing into Wall Street. The men of the Ye family were never ones to engage in empty talk or theoretical discussions in a safe place.

“I’ll go with you,” Elizabeth said.

"No, it's too dangerous."

“It’s precisely because it’s dangerous that I have to go.” Elizabeth grasped his hand. “Ye Guigen, we’re not just partners, we’re also… never mind. Anyway, I’m going.”

Her gaze was resolute. Ye Guigen knew he couldn't persuade her otherwise.

Before setting off, Ye Guigen called Ye Yuze. The old man remained silent for a long time after hearing that his grandson was going to North Africa.

"Take a few people with you," Ye Yuze said finally. "Your two aunts have considerable influence in Central Africa, I'll have them make the arrangements. Remember, listen more and talk less when you get there. You're not going there to give alms, you're going there to cooperate. Keep a humble attitude."

"I've got it."

"Also," Ye Yuze paused, "be careful. Your great-grandfather always said that the lives of soldiers are precious and should be saved for more things."

After hanging up the phone, Ye Guigen packed his luggage. Besides the necessary documents, he also brought one more thing—his great-grandfather's old, military-green water bottle.

That was the one Ye Wancheng used on the battlefield, and he always carried it with him afterward. Before Ye Guigen went abroad, his great-grandmother Meihua insisted on giving it to him.

"Take it with you, it'll keep you safe," the old lady said.

The plane landed in the capital of a North African country. A wave of heat hit them, and the air was thick with the smells of dust and spices. A car sent by the Warriors Group's office was already waiting for them; the driver was a local middle-aged man named Ali.

“Mr. Ye, Ms. Cavendish, welcome.” Ali spoke fluent English. “The office has arranged accommodations. But I must remind you that the place we’re going to tomorrow… is not very safe. Tribal conflicts have escalated recently, and even the government forces can’t control it.”

"How bad is the situation?" Ye Guigen asked.

“Six foreign engineers were kidnapped last week and haven’t been released yet,” Ali said. “So I suggest you reconsider.”

Elizabeth looked at Ye Guigen. He shook his head: "Since we're already here..."

The accommodation was a small courtyard of the office, surrounded by walls and an iron gate, so it was relatively safe. In the evenings, Ye Guigen studied maps and tribal information, while Elizabeth organized the key points of the negotiations beside him.

"The chief of this tribe is named Hassan. He is over sixty years old and is very respected in the area."

Elizabeth said, "But he hated foreigners and saw all foreign investment as a new form of colonialism."

"Then why was the government able to approve the land for us?"

“Because the government needs electricity and political achievements,” Elizabeth said with a wry smile. “But the government doesn’t care about the tribes’ thoughts.”

Ye Guigen pondered. He grew up in Northwest China and knew the complexities of ethnic minority areas. Land was not just land; it was history, culture, and identity.

“We’re not here to seize land,” he said. “We’re here to cooperate. Once the solar farm is built, the tribe members will have priority in employment, receive dividends, and have access to cheap electricity. It’s a win-win situation.”

"But how do we convince them?"

Ye Guigen recalled his grandfather's words: To do practical things, you have to go to the front line.

Early the next morning, they set off for the tribal territory. The road deteriorated further and further, eventually becoming a dirt track. On either side were desert and scattered bushes, with the occasional camel or flock of sheep.

Two hours later, the car was stopped by a group of armed young men. Ali got out of the car and negotiated in the local language, creating a tense atmosphere.

“They said that no outsiders could enter without Hassan’s permission,” Ali returned and reported. “But we can send two men to see him.”

Ye Guigen and Elizabeth exchanged a glance.

“I’ll go,” Ye Guigen said.

"I'll go as well."

"no……"

“I said, we’ll be together,” Elizabeth said firmly.

Finally, Ye Guigen, Elizabeth, and Ali followed the tribespeople on foot into the village. The village was very simple, with mud-brick houses, no electricity, and a well as the only source of water.

Hassan was waiting for them in a large tent. The old man, dressed in a traditional robe, sat on a blanket, his eyes sharp as an eagle's.

“You want our land,” Hassan said bluntly in English, with a heavy accent.

“We want to cooperate,” Ye Guigen said. “Solar farms can be built in the desert without taking up your pastures and farmland. Moreover, the farms need workers, security guards, and maintenance personnel. These jobs can be given priority to the tribespeople.”

Hassan sneered: "That's what foreigners say. And then what? The jobs went to outsiders, and the money went into the government's pockets. We got nothing, and we even lost our land."

“This time is different.” Ye Guigen produced a draft contract:

"It's clearly written in black and white: the tribe holds 10% of the shares, all non-technical positions will be filled by tribe members first, and the farm's electricity will be supplied primarily to the village. If this is violated, you have the right to terminate the cooperation."

Hassan took the contract and examined it carefully for a long time. The tent was so quiet you could hear the wind.

"Why?" the old man suddenly asked. "Why are you doing this? Other companies wouldn't offer such terms."

Ye Guigen thought for a moment and said, "Because I come from a place that is somewhat similar to yours. Northwest China is also a frontier region and a region with many ethnic minorities."

When my great-grandfather built the city there, the first thing he did wasn't to open factories, but to provide jobs for the locals and help them prosper. And my two aunts, Queen Ye Rou and Queen Ye Mei, you've probably heard of them too.”

Hassan's eyes lit up when he heard the names Ye Rou and Ye Mei, but they quickly dimmed again.

“I need to consult with the elders,” the old man said finally. “You can stay for one night. But remember, don’t wander around. It’s not safe here.”

They were put into a small tent. That night, the desert temperature plummeted. Ye Guigen gave his coat to Elizabeth and wrapped himself in a blanket.

"Do you think he'll agree?" Elizabeth asked.

"I don't know," Ye Guigen said, "but at least we're trying."

That night, he dreamed of his grandfather, Ye Yuze. In the dream, his grandfather stood in the earliest workshop of the Warrior Group, his hands covered in grease, and said to him:

"Ultimately, the hardest thing about doing business is not technology, but people's hearts. Technology can be learned and equipment can be bought, but people's hearts... must be won with sincerity."

The next morning, Hassan sent someone to invite them. The elders were all present, and the atmosphere was solemn.

“We agreed,” Hassan said, “but on several conditions: First, the contract must be notarized and witnessed by an international lawyer. Second, we need to send people to supervise the construction process. Third, if the project is profitable, 10% of the profits must be used to build schools and clinics.”

“Sure,” Ye Guigen said. “We can also help build schools and clinics. The foundation has a special fund to support education and medical projects.”

Hassan finally smiled: "Young man, you are different from those businessmen. When you look into their eyes, I am looking into yours. In your eyes... there is sincerity."

The contract was signed on the spot. Before leaving, Hassan gave Ye Guigen a handmade dagger: "This is a traditional gift from our tribe, given to a friend who deserves our respect."

On the way back, Elizabeth leaned on Ye Guigen's shoulder and fell asleep. Ye Guigen looked out at the desert and thought of the Gobi Desert in the military reclamation city. The same barrenness, the same resilience, the same yearning for change.

Ali glanced at him in the rearview mirror: "Mr. Ye, you've done something remarkable. Several companies wanted to invest before, but they all failed because of tribal opposition. You're the first one to close the deal."

“It wasn’t me, it was us,” Ye Guigen said. “It was a deal reached in good faith.”

Upon returning to the capital, they immediately set about advancing the project. But on the night before they were to leave North Africa, disaster struck.

At 2 a.m., the hotel room phone suddenly rang. It was Ali, his voice urgent:

“Mr. Ye, something has happened. Our office has been attacked, and three employees have been injured. The police say... it may have been done by people who oppose this project.”

Ye Guigen's heart sank: "Is it serious?"

"One person is seriously injured and is receiving emergency treatment. The other two have minor injuries."

Ali paused, "And... they left a message saying that if the project continues, next time it won't just be about hurting people."

Elizabeth also woke up and turned pale when she heard the conversation.

“Tell the police we need protection,” Ye Guigen said calmly. “Also, contact Hassan. If there is opposition from within the tribe, he can resolve it.”

"Do you want to continue the project?"

“We must continue,” Ye Guigen said. “If we back down because of threats, we will not be able to accomplish anything in the future. My great-grandfather survived the hail of bullets on the battlefield. This kind of threat will not scare the Ye family away.”

That being said, he knew the real test was just beginning. The more important the project, the greater the resistance. Those hiding in the shadows wouldn't give up easily.

He walked to the window and looked at the North African night sky. The stars were bright, like countless eyes watching over the new and the old, the progress and the retreat, the light and the darkness of this ancient land.

His path was destined to be anything but smooth.

But having made that choice, we can only move forward.

Because behind him are not only the expectations of the Ye family, but also the hopes of those waiting for the light.

Deep in the desert, solar panels will unfold under the sunlight.

The hidden reefs had only just emerged from the water.

The real voyage has only just begun. (End of Chapter)