Great Power Reclamation

In December, the snow in London was falling heavier and heavier.

When Ye Guigen received Yang Chenglong's call, he was writing his thesis in the library. The voice on the other end of the line was clearly slurred with alcohol:
"Brother, I...I'm at a bar, and someone's causing me trouble."

Ye Guigen's heart tightened: "Send me your location, don't make a move, wait for me."

Twenty minutes later, he arrived at the entrance of a small bar in the East District. Pushing open the door, he found the place filled with smoke, and a group of people making a fuss in a corner.

Yang Chenglong stood in the middle, facing three white youths, one of whom had a bruise on his face and was covering his eyes while cursing.

Ye Guigen walked over and stood next to Yang Chenglong.

"what happened?"

Yang Chenglong, half sober, whispered, "They said I had curly hair like a sheep, and I said they were bald like eggs, and then we started fighting."

Ye Guigen glanced at the people opposite him. The three white youths were all half a head taller than him, one of whom was wearing a leather jacket and looked like the leader.

The man stared at Ye Guigen and said in English, "You're his friend? He hit my brother, how do you plan to settle this?"

Ye Guigen ignored him and first looked Yang Chenglong over. His lip was cut and his clothes were torn, but he was standing steadily and his eyes were still bright, so he should be alright.

Can you move?

"can."

"Walk."

The two turned and walked out. Footsteps sounded behind them, but Ye Guigen didn't turn around, though his body was already tense. As they reached the door, a hand landed on his shoulder.

He grabbed the hand, twisted it, and swept his foot across the ground. Before the young white man could react, he was sprawled on the ground, his arm twisted behind his back, screaming in pain.

The other two were stunned.

Ye Guigen released his grip, stood up, and dusted off his clothes:
"Think things through before you act next time."

After saying that, he pulled Yang Chenglong out the door.

The snow was still falling, and the streets were deserted. After walking for a while, Yang Chenglong suddenly stopped, bent over, and laughed.

"What are you laughing at?" Ye Guigen asked.

"Brother, that move you just did was so cool!" Yang Chenglong straightened up, his eyes shining. "What kind of kung fu was that? Teach me!"

Ye Guigen glanced at him: "Bajiquan. Want to learn?"

"miss you!"

"Learn English well first."

Yang Chenglong's face fell, but he quickly smiled again:
"Brother, you're completely different when you fight. You're usually so polite, but once you start fighting, it's like you're a completely different person."

Ye Guigen remained silent. He recalled his childhood when his grandfather taught him Bajiquan, saying it was passed down from Zhou Guihua's father and that every generation of the Ye and Yang families had learned it.

Yang Geyong was the best practitioner, possessing immense strength. His Tan Tui (a style of Chinese martial arts) was powerful and expansive, wielding force with great force. The Ye family, on the other hand, practiced Bajiquan (another style of Chinese martial arts), which was refined and emphasized skillful application of force.

“Your grandfather was more capable than mine,” Ye Guigen said. “Back in the day, your Grandpa Yang could take on eight men by himself, and he could still drink afterward.”

Yang Chenglong's eyes lit up even more: "Really?"

"Really." Ye Guigen looked at him. "If you practice hard, you can do it too in the future."

Yang Chenglong clenched his fist, said nothing, but his eyes changed.

After that, Yang Chenglong pestered Ye Guigen to teach him kung fu every week. Ye Guigen couldn't refuse, so he took him to the park every Saturday afternoon to teach him from the basics.

The London park was nearly deserted in winter. Two young men were practicing stances, punching, and kicking in the snow, their breaths dispersing into the air.

Yang Chenglong studied very hard, but he was impatient and always wanted to skip the basics and go straight to learning the moves.

"Haste makes waste," Ye Guigen said. "That's what my grandfather said."

Yang Chenglong pursed his lips: "What your grandfather said is the same as what my grandfather said."

"Because they grew up together," Ye Guigen said. "From my great-grandfather's generation, the Ye family and the Yang family have never been separated."

Yang Chenglong was taken aback for a moment, then asked, "Brother, should we do the same?"

Ye Guigen looked at him: "What?"

"It means... that my son and your son will be like us in the future."

Yang Chenglong scratched his head. "Childhood friend, we grew up together and fought together."

Ye Guigen thought for a moment and smiled: "That depends on whether you can find a wife."

Yang Chenglong panicked: "I'm sure I can find it! I'm so handsome!"

Ye Guigen sized him up: "You? Curly hair, hot-tempered, with a temper bigger than strength, who would want you?"

Yang Chenglong was so angry that he chased after him and hit him. The two of them made a ruckus in the snow.

January marks the start of the new school term.

Yang Chenglong's preparatory course entered its second phase, with higher English requirements. He struggled with it, but stopped complaining.

Ye Guigen went twice a week to tutor him. Elizabeth sometimes came too, to teach him spoken English.

One day, Yang Chenglong suddenly asked, "Sister-in-law, why did you fall for my brother in the first place?"

Elizabeth paused for a moment, then smiled: "Because he is honest."

"Honesty?" Yang Chenglong asked, puzzled. "What kind of virtue is that?"

“It’s very important,” Elizabeth said. “He doesn’t lie to others, nor does he lie to himself.”

Yang Chenglong thought for a moment and nodded: "My brother is indeed like that. When he teaches me kung fu, he never says that I am good at it, but always points out that I am doing something wrong here and there. But I know in my heart that he is doing it for my own good."

Elizabeth looked at Ye Guigen with a smile in her eyes.

At the end of January, Yang Chenglong caused trouble at school again.

This wasn't a fight; it was a bet with a classmate that I jumped from the second floor and sprained my ankle.

When Ye Guigen arrived at the hospital, Yang Chenglong was lying in bed with his foot wrapped in thick bandages. Upon seeing Ye Guigen, he shrank back.

"Jumped from the second floor?" Ye Guigen looked at him. "Are you out of your mind?"

Yang Chenglong whispered, "They said I wouldn't dare, but I jumped anyway."

"If they offered you to eat shit, would you eat it?"

Yang Chenglong didn't dare to reply.

Ye Guigen took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the bed. After a long silence, he said:
"Yang Chenglong, do you know why your grandfather was called 'Yang the Bold' back then?"

Yang Chenglong shook his head.

"It's not because he dares to take risks, but because he dares to take responsibility."

Ye Guigen said, "When he was young, he led a group of people to build roads in the Gobi Desert. When they encountered quicksand, everyone else ran away, but he stayed behind and carried the people trapped inside out. He almost died in there that time."

As Yang Chenglong listened, his eyes slowly brightened.

“Being bold isn’t about courting death.” Ye Guigen looked at him. “It’s about stepping up when you should and not stepping up when you shouldn’t. What does it prove that you jumped from the second floor? It proves that you’re stupid.”

Yang Chenglong lowered his head and remained silent.

After a long time, he suddenly said, "Brother, I understand."

Ye Guigen looked at him.

“I won’t do that again.” Yang Chenglong raised his head. “I want to be like my grandfather and be a real man.”

Ye Guigen nodded and stopped scolding him.

London was still very cold in February.

Yang Chenglong's foot has healed, although he still walks with a slight limp, but he can now attend classes. His English has improved considerably, and he can communicate normally with his roommates.

One day, he excitedly told Ye Guigen that he wanted to participate in the school's football match.

"You can play football?" Ye Guigen asked.

"No," Yang Chenglong said confidently, "but I'm fast; I can chase after the ball."

Ye Guigen was both amused and exasperated, but he still went to watch his match.

The competition took place on the school playground. The wind was biting cold, but Yang Chenglong was sweating profusely as he ran.

He might not be a good player, but he was undeniably fast, sprinting all over the field like a headless fly. His teammates yelled at him in frustration, but he didn't get angry and just kept chasing the ball.

The match ended; their team lost, 0-5.

Yang Chenglong walked over covered in mud, grinning, "Brother, I ran the whole field!"

Ye Guigen looked at him and suddenly remembered a photo of Yang Geyong when he was young—standing on the Gobi Desert, covered in dust, grinning at the camera. “That’s good,” he said. “Keep running next time.”

In early March, Ye Guigen received a phone call.

It was Yang Geyong calling.

"Kid, how's my grandson?" Yang Geyong's voice was still as loud as ever.

Ye Guigen glanced at Yang Chenglong, who was eating an apple beside him:

"It's alright. I sprained my ankle last week when I jumped from the second floor."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone, then a burst of laughter erupted: "Hahaha! Just like me! I jumped like that when I was young!"

Ye Guigen said helplessly, "Grandpa Yang, this is not a good thing."

“I know.” Yang Geyong stopped smiling. “But the fact that he dared to jump shows he’s not a coward. He’ll understand if we teach him slowly.”

Ye Guigen hummed in agreement.

“Returning to one’s roots,” Yang Geyong suddenly said, “thank you.”

Ye Guigen was taken aback.

“That child, his parents can’t control him, and neither can I.”

Yang Geyong said, "Now that you're in charge, he's changed. Last time he called me, he said he was learning kung fu and wanted to be a real man like me. I was so happy to hear that."

Ye Guigen felt a warmth in his heart: "Grandpa Yang, he was good to begin with, he just didn't have anyone to teach him."

“Now he has someone to teach him,” Yang Geyong said. “You’re a good teacher. When he comes back, I’ll treat him to drinks.”

After hanging up the phone, Ye Guigen looked at Yang Chenglong. Yang Chenglong was eating an apple, looking completely innocent: "Who was that?"

"Your grandfather."

Yang Chenglong put down the apple: "What did he say?"

He said he'd treat you to drinks when you get back.

Yang Chenglong was stunned for a moment, then smiled, his eyes crinkling into crescents.

In mid-March, London finally showed signs of spring.

Yang Chenglong's English was already good enough for everyday conversation, and his preparatory course grades were steadily improving. One day, he suddenly said to Ye Guigen:

"Brother, I want to go to university."

Ye Guigen looked at him: "What major are you going to study?"

"I don't know." Yang Chenglong scratched his head. "Anyway, I want to study something. After I study, I can go back and tell my grandfather that I studied in England."

Ye Guigen thought for a moment: "How's your math?"

"good."

“You could study economics or business,” Ye Guigen said. “You could also help your grandfather manage the horse farm in the future.”

Yang Chenglong's eyes lit up: "That's right! My grandfather's Akhal-Teke horses are very valuable! I want to learn how to manage money and expand the horse farm in the future!"

Ye Guigen smiled: "Alright, that's ambitious."

From that day on, Yang Chenglong studied even harder. He asked Ye Guigen to help him find a tutor, specifically for math and economics.

Ye Guigen asked someone to find a student from the University of London to come twice a week. Yang Chenglong struggled with the studies, but he persevered.

One weekend in April, Ye Guigen took Yang Chenglong horseback riding.

It was the same horse ranch, and the grass was already green with spring. Yang Chenglong mounted his horse, no longer as nervous as the first time, and sat steadily on its back. The riding instructor praised his rapid progress, and he smiled proudly at Ye Guigen.

After riding, the two sat down to rest on the grass. Yang Chenglong suddenly asked:
"Brother, what did it feel like when my grandfather was young, riding a horse across the Gobi Desert?"

Ye Guigen thought for a moment and said, "It should be very free. The world is vast, and you can go wherever you want."

Yang Chenglong looked into the distance, his gaze distant: "I want to give it a try too."

"When you get back, I'll have him take you for a ride."

Yang Chenglong nodded, then suddenly turned around and asked, "Brother, are you coming back with me?"

Ye Guigen was taken aback: "Me? What for?"

“Let’s go together,” Yang Chenglong said earnestly. “We can ride horses together and gallop across the Gobi Desert. My grandpa can ride one, your grandpa can ride one, and the two of us can ride one. Wouldn’t that be great?”

Ye Guigen imagined the scene and smiled.

“Okay,” he said, “until I graduate.”

In early May, Yang Chenglong took his preparatory course graduation exam.

On the day the exam was over, he called Ye Guigen, so excited he was almost incoherent: "Brother! The exam is over! I think I passed math! English should be okay too!"

Ye Guigen smiled and said, "That's good. I'll treat you to dinner tonight to celebrate."

That evening, Ye Guigen took him to a restaurant next to the London Eye. It was Yang Chenglong's first time riding the London Eye, and he was as excited as a child, pressing his face against the glass to look out and taking pictures non-stop.

After dinner, the two took a walk along the Thames. The night was gentle, and the lights were reflected on the river.

“Brother,” Yang Chenglong suddenly said, “thank you.”

Ye Guigen looked at him.

"If it weren't for you keeping an eye on me for the past six months, I probably would have gotten into trouble and been sent back long ago," Yang Chenglong said earnestly. "You taught me kung fu, you taught me to read, and you taught me how to be a person. You're closer to me than my own brother."

Ye Guigen felt a surge of warmth in his heart and reached out to ruffle his curly hair.

"Alright, stop getting sentimental," he said. "Go back and study hard, get into university, and help your grandfather manage the horse farm in the future."

Yang Chenglong nodded, then suddenly remembered something: "Brother, I've mastered the Bajiquan move you taught me. How about we have a match sometime?"

Ye Guigen laughed: "You? You think you can beat me?"

"How will you know if you don't try?" Yang Chenglong rolled up his sleeves. "Come on, now!"

Ye Guigen looked at him and suddenly remembered what Yang Geyong looked like when he was young, of course, from the photos.

The same curly hair, the same bad temper, the same fearlessness.

“Alright,” he said, getting ready. “Let’s go.”

The two men set up their positions on the banks of the Thames. Passersby glanced at them, but no one seemed to care.

Yang Chenglong struck first, throwing a powerful punch. Ye Guigen dodged to the side and swept his foot away. Yang Chenglong staggered, but regained his footing and charged forward again.

The two exchanged blows for over ten rounds. Finally, Ye Guigen used a locking technique to pin Yang Chenglong to the ground.

"Do you submit or not?" Ye Guigen asked, panting.

Yang Chenglong lay on the ground, panting even harder, but still shouting, "I'm not convinced! Let's go again!"

Ye Guigen smiled, let go of his hand, and lay down on the grass.

Yang Chenglong also lay down, and the two of them looked at the night sky side by side.

The night sky in London has few stars, but a few are particularly bright.

“Brother,” Yang Chenglong suddenly said, “my son will fight your son in the future.”

Ye Guigen laughed: "That depends on whether your son can beat him."

"Definitely! My son takes after me, he's strong!"

“My son is like me, smart, and always hits the vital points.”

The two bantered casually under the night sky.

In the distance, the lights of the London Eye slowly rotate.

The Thames flows quietly.

The two young men lay on the grass, just like their grandfather had been sixty years ago, talking nonsense and dreaming.

That night, Ye Guigen sent Yang Geyong a message: "Grandpa Yang, Jackie Chan has grown up."

The reply came very quickly.

Only two words: "I know."

A photo is attached below.

In the photo, Yang Geyong stands in the yard, next to his Akhal-Teke horse. He smiles at the camera, a smile like a child.

But upon closer inspection, there were tears glistening in her eyes. (End of Chapter)