Great Power Reclamation

The rain in London was just as fine and continuous as when I left, carrying the damp scent unique to the Thames.

As Ye Guigen stepped out of Heathrow Airport, he took a deep breath of the familiar air—a mixture of car exhaust, the aroma of coffee, and the smell of rain.

In just two short weeks, the scorching sun of North Africa and the thin air of the East African plateau seemed like a thing of the past.

The Cornerstone & Wings Foundation’s office is on the 40th floor of that glass-walled building in the Financial City.

When Ye Guigen pushed open the door, Emma—his administrative assistant—looked up, her eyes lighting up.

"Mr. Ye! You're back."

The other employees in the office also greeted him. Ye Guigen nodded in response, noticing several new faces in the office area.

“The newly recruited analyst,” Emma reported, following behind him.

"As per your request, we have increased our professional staff in Africa and clean energy. In addition, Cavendish Bank has sent representatives to liaise with us several times; here are the meeting minutes."

Ye Guigen walked towards his office while flipping through the documents. He opened the door and froze.

Elizabeth sat in her office chair, her back to the door, talking on the phone. Outside the window stretched the grey skyline of the City of London, her blonde hair gleaming softly in the morning light.

"...Yes, the terms of the agreement need to be modified...No, the bottom line cannot be changed..."

She hung up the phone, turned around, saw Ye Guigen, and smiled.

Welcome back.

Ye Guigen put down his luggage: "What are you doing here?"

“Cavendish Bank is now a co-manager of the fund, and I have the right to use this office.”

Elizabeth stood up and walked up to him. "And I want to see you as soon as possible."

She looked him over carefully: "You've gotten a tan. How was Africa?"

"Shocking," Ye Guigen said. "It's more complex than I imagined, but also more hopeful than I imagined."

Elizabeth nodded and picked up a document from the table: "Something happened during the two weeks you were gone. Take a look at this first."

The document is titled "Inquiry into the Investment Strategy of the 'Cornerstone & Wings' Fund." It was sent by a committee of the UK financial regulator.

“Someone complained to the regulatory authorities that our foundation was ‘using social influence as a pretext to engage in unfair competition.’”

Elizabeth said calmly, “She specifically mentioned your project in North Africa, saying that we used non-commercial means to exclude competitors.”

Ye Guigen frowned: "About Kader?"

“It seems the people behind him haven’t given up,” Elizabeth said.

"But don't worry, I've already taken care of it. Cavendish Bank's legal team has submitted complete documentation proving that all our actions in North Africa comply with local laws and international business standards."

She paused, then said, "But this is a signal. Your fund's philosophy has touched on the interests of some people, and they won't give up easily."

Ye Guigen sat down on the sofa and rubbed his temples. The fatigue from the plane now surged up, mixed with the dizziness of jet lag.

“In Africa, I witnessed the miracles created by my aunts.”

He said, "But I also saw the cost behind it—countless negotiations, compromises, and even conflicts. I thought it would be easier to go back to London, after all, it's a mature business society."

Elizabeth sat down beside him: “London is more complicated. In Africa, the enemy is out in the open. Here, the enemy wears a suit, speaks polite English, and sets traps for you in the conference room.”

She took his hand: “But you don’t have to face this alone. We have Cavendish Bank, your father’s support, and your aunts’ influence in Africa. It’s a big game, and you are an important piece on the board.”

Ye Guigen looked at her. This woman, who was always calm, rational, and in control of everything, had a rare tenderness in her eyes at this moment.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked. "It's not just because of a business partnership, is it?"

Elizabeth paused for a few seconds, then said:
"Because I saw something different. In this circle, most people either talk about ideals hypocritically or pursue profit nakedly. You are one of the few who truly believe in ideals and know how to realize them."

She stood up and walked to the window: "My father often said I was like him—intelligent, but ruthless. I know how to calculate profits, how to manipulate people, how to win the game. But sometimes I wonder, what happens after winning the game? What's left?"

She turned around, her grey-green eyes appearing exceptionally clear in the London morning light:

“Your fund showed me another possibility—to win, but also to make the world a better place. Even if it’s just a little bit.”

The office fell silent. In the distance, the hustle and bustle of London could be heard—car horns blaring, police sirens wailing, and Big Ben striking ten.

"What's next?" Ye Guigen asked.

“Next,” Elizabeth returned to her desk:
"We're going to hold our first investment decision committee meeting. Representatives from Cavendish Bank and Brothers Group will be there. We'll be formally approving the first batch of project investments."

She handed over a list: "Your trip to East Africa was very fruitful. Prime Minister Yang sent five priority projects, all of which are good projects with both social value and commercial potential. We need to select one or two as the starting point for the fund in East Africa."

Quick overview of Ye Guigen: Solar energy storage systems, mobile medical platforms, digital payment systems, vocational training colleges, and promotion of water-saving irrigation technologies.

“It’s a tough choice,” he said. “They’re all good.”

“So we need to discuss this,” Elizabeth said. “Two o’clock this afternoon, in the conference room. Now, you should go adjust to the time difference.”

When Ye Guigen returned to his apartment in Knightsbridge, he found a package on his door. There was no sender information, only a handwritten note:

"To Ye Guigen—Friends from the Desert."

He opened it, and inside was the dagger given to him by the Hassan tribe, and a photograph.

The photo shows a solar farm already taking shape, with photovoltaic panels reflecting a dazzling light in the sun. On the back of the photo, written in English, is the message: "The lights are on, thank you."

Ye Guigen gripped the dagger, its rough hilt still carrying the scent of the desert. He recalled Elder Hassan's words:
"In the desert, a knife is a tool, not a weapon. It's used to cut meat, cut rope, and mark lines in the sand. It's only used to protect oneself when absolutely necessary."

He placed the dagger on the bookshelf, next to his great-grandfather's army green water bottle.

One is a memory of wartime, the other a tool of peacetime. But they both carry the same spirit—survival, construction, and protection.

After taking a shower, Ye Guigen lay in bed but couldn't fall asleep.

Images from my trip to East Africa replayed in my mind: the lights of the new Chang'an city, the smiling faces of students on campus, the figures working in the fields, the determination in my aunts' eyes...

My phone rang; it was a video call invitation from Ye Xin.

After the call connected, Ye Xin's excited face appeared on the screen: "Returning to my roots! I've made up my mind, I want to set up a research and development center in East Africa!"

"So fast?"

"In the past few days, I have had several meetings with the team from East Africa University of Science and Technology. Their research is very valuable, but it lacks application and transformation."

Ye Xin spoke quickly, "My Qingliu Technology can provide the technology and funding, while they will provide local data and testing environments. We'll collaborate to develop testing and purification equipment tailored to the specific characteristics of African water quality, and once successful, it can be rolled out across the entire continent!"

She paused for a moment: "And... I saw what my two aunts were doing. They made me realize that if technology can't improve people's lives, it's just a toy in a laboratory."

Ye Guigen smiled: "You were shocked too."

“Yes,” Ye Xin nodded. “I’ve always thought my ideal was great—to use technology to solve environmental problems. But compared to my sisters, my vision is too small. They are using the power of the entire country to change the fate of millions of people.”

“Different stages, different methods.” Ye Guigen repeated what he had told Ye Xin in East Africa. “You are doing what you can do, and you are doing it very well.”

"Thank you," Ye Xin said. "By the way, I'm going to London next week for an international environmental technology exhibition. See you then?"

"it is good."

After hanging up the phone, Ye Guigen finally felt sleepy. He closed his eyes, and the afternoon light of London filtered through the blinds, casting dappled shadows on the wall.

When I woke up again, it was already evening. There were three unread messages on my phone—

Elizabeth reminded him of a dinner party that evening. Ye Yini mentioned that her band was having a small performance in London. Su Xiao asked if he was in London, as she wanted to invite him to her end-of-term performance.

Looking at these three names, Ye Guigen felt a complex mix of emotions.

Elizabeth represents his current life—complex, challenging, full of possibilities but also fraught with pitfalls.

Ye Yini represents another side of the family—freedom, creativity, and self-expression through art.

Su Xiao is an echo of the past—pure, authentic, reminding him of the reasons he initially set out.

He replied to each one: he promised Elizabeth the dinner, he promised Ye Yini to go to the performance, and he promised Su Xiao to go see her dance. Perhaps he couldn't choose any of them, or perhaps he had to choose one.

But for now, he doesn't need to choose. Life, like the Thames, continues to flow forward, and he only needs to follow the current and see which way to go.

The dinner was held at a private club in the Mayfair district. When Ye Guigen arrived, Elizabeth was already there, talking with several middle-aged men. Seeing Ye Guigen, she beckoned him over.

"This is Lord James, former Energy Secretary. This is Mr. Anderson, a member of the Board of Trustees of the London School of Economics."

Elizabeth introduced, "This is Ye Guigen, the founder of the 'Cornerstone and Wings' Foundation."

A handshake, pleasantries, and exchanging business cards. Ye Guigen was already familiar with this routine.

He answered questions about the fund's philosophy with ease, talked about his experiences in Africa, occasionally quoted economic theories, but mostly told specific stories—

The story of the Hassan tribe, the story of students at the East African University of Science and Technology, and the story of workers at the solar farm.

“Interesting,” Lord James said after listening.

"It's good for young people to have enthusiasm. But you have to know that in the investment field, enthusiasm cannot replace returns."

"I believe it's possible to balance both," Ye Guigen said.
"Our solar energy project in North Africa is expected to have an internal rate of return of over 15%, while also solving the electricity problem for 30,000 people. The business models of the projects we are examining in East Africa have also been validated."

Mr. Anderson nodded: “LSE is known for producing pragmatic talent. I’ve seen your grades, and they’re very good. But the school has recently received some…negative information about you.”

Ye Guigen's heart tightened, but he remained calm on the surface: "About what?"

"Regarding your use of family influence to engage in unfair competition in Africa," Anderson stated bluntly, "As a member of the board of trustees, I need to know whether these allegations are true."

Elizabeth wanted to speak, but Ye Guigen gently held her hand.

"I did indeed use family resources in Africa," Ye Guigen frankly stated.

"But not for unfair competition, but to protect legitimate investments from violent destruction."

“My aunts have been operating in East Africa for ten years and have built a good reputation and network of relationships. I’m using these resources to ensure the project can proceed smoothly, create jobs for the local community, and solve practical problems.”

He paused for a moment: "As for the competition—the solar energy project was won through open bidding, and all procedures were legal and compliant."

"The previous company failed because they tried to sabotage our project through illegal means, not because we couldn't compete with them commercially."

Anderson stared at him for a few seconds, then smiled: “Very good answer. Remember, in London, transparency is paramount. As long as you do things openly and honestly, you have nothing to fear from scrutiny.”

After the dinner, Elizabeth and Ye Guigen took a walk in the club garden.

“That was dangerous,” Elizabeth said. “Anderson is a key figure in the conservative faction at the school. If he has a prejudice against you, your time at LSE will be very difficult.”

“But I had no choice,” Ye Guigen said. “It was either honesty or lying. And lies will eventually be exposed.”

Elizabeth stopped and looked at him. "You know, sometimes I think you're too idealistic. But sometimes, it's precisely this idealism that makes you stronger than those 'realists'."

She reached out and smoothed the wrinkles on his suit: "Tomorrow is the investment committee meeting. Be prepared for your presentation. We need to show everyone that your fund is not just a good story, but a good business."

"I will."

After seeing Elizabeth off, Ye Guigen didn't go home immediately. He strolled along the Thames, watching the boats on the river and the London Eye on the opposite bank.

The phone rang. It was Ye Yini: "Brother, our performance starts at ten o'clock. Are you coming?"

Ye Guigen checked the time, 9:30: "I'll be there soon."

The performance was held in a small bar in the Shoreditch district. When Ye Guigen arrived, the place was already packed with people.

Ye Yini's band was setting up their equipment on stage when she saw Ye Guigen and waved.

As the music began, Ye Guigen saw Ye Yini again—the energetic girl on stage, completely immersed in the music.

Her band's style remains a fusion of East and West, but it's more mature and the arrangements are more complex than when they were in Los Angeles.

During the intermission, Ye Yini jumped off the stage and ran to Ye Guigen, covered in sweat.

"How about it?"

"Great." Ye Guigen handed her a bottle of water. "Especially that new song."

“That song is called ‘Roots’,” Ye Yini wiped her sweat. “It’s about kids like us from ‘third culture’—”

Home is everywhere, and so is a stranger in a strange land. But our roots run deep, so we are not afraid of wandering.

She looked at Ye Guigen: "Brother, Dad told me about what you did in Africa. It was amazing."

"Your mother has also been a great help in East Africa."

“I know,” Ye Yini said, “but you are different. Mom tells stories with movies, you write stories with your actions. Sometimes I think, what can I do? Besides writing and singing songs, what else can I do for this world?”

Ye Guigen patted her on the shoulder: "You've done a lot. Your music has shown more people the possibility of East-West fusion. This is also a kind of connection."

After the performance, the brother and sister chatted in the alley outside the bar. The London night was cool, and the sounds of police sirens and drunken laughter drifted from afar.

“Brother,” Ye Yini suddenly said, “sometimes I envy you. You know what you want to do, and you have the ability to do it. I’m still finding my way.”

“You’ve found it,” Ye Guigen said. “It’s right on the stage. You just haven’t realized how far this path can take you.”

He recalled seeing an art school in East Africa where students were learning both traditional dance and modern choreography. Cultural heritage is not about clinging to the past, but about innovation.

“Maybe one day you can hold a music festival in East Africa,” Ye Guigen said, “bringing together African music, Chinese music, and Western music. Your aunts will support you.”

Ye Yini's eyes lit up: "Really?"

"Really. East African countries are now placing great emphasis on cultural development and need young people like you."

That night, Ye Guigen didn't get home until very late. He turned on his computer and began preparing his presentation to the investment committee the following day.

The slides flipped through the pages: fund philosophy, investment strategy, project selection criteria, risk control mechanisms...

But most importantly, there are the specific stories—solar farms in North Africa, technological universities in East Africa, AI medical projects in Cambridge, and desalination technology in Edinburgh.

He wasn't talking about abstract concepts, but about specific people and events.

At three in the morning, the presentation was finally completed. Ye Guigen stood by the window, looking at the sleeping city of London.

This city has witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the boom and bust of finance, and the rise and fall of countless ideals.

Now, it will witness how an Eastern youth explores new possibilities on this ancient land.

The phone screen lit up with a message from Su Xiao: "Tomorrow's performance is at the Royal Academy of Dance's small theater at 7 p.m. If you're busy, don't force yourself."

Ye Guigen replied, "I will go."

He knew he was busy; he had an important meeting tomorrow and might have to entertain investors that evening. But he also knew that some things he couldn't lose—those pure, beautiful things that reminded him why he had started.

Like Great-Grandpa's kettle, Hassan's dagger, and Su Xiao's dance.

They are his anchors, preventing him from losing his way in this complex world.

Outside the window, the Thames flows quietly, like time itself, never stopping.

And his journey continues.

Tomorrow's meeting, the day after tomorrow's challenges, and countless possibilities for the future.

He will face it all.

Because he is a man who returns to his roots.

The grandson of Junken City, a man from the Ye family.

It can take root in the Gobi Desert and grow along the Thames River.

And now, it is about to bloom.

Show your true colors. (End of Chapter)