Great Power Reclamation

Yang Wei was stunned by the city on his first day in London.

It wasn't because of the hustle and bustle—he had seen the skyscrapers of New York, the Champs-Élysées of Paris, and the vast wilderness of Africa.

What struck him was something else entirely: the aura that had been accumulated over hundreds of years, the sense of history inscribed on every single stone.

"Dad, where do you want to go first?" Yang Chenglong asked.

Yang Wei thought for a moment: "Where do you live?"

"Lin Wanwan and I rented a small apartment near the school."

"Then let's go there first."

The taxi wound its way through the streets of London, and Yang Wei kept looking out the window. Red double-decker buses, black taxis, old buildings, and crowds of people hurrying by.

He suddenly remembered what Ye Feng had said: "London is an interesting place; you'll fall in love with it if you stay long enough."

He didn't believe it before, but now he's starting to believe it a little.

Yang Chenglong's apartment wasn't large, but it was very clean. There were some cardboard boxes piled up in the living room, labeled "Online Store Goods".

There was a photo on the wall, a picture of Yang Chenglong and Lin Wanwan, both of them smiling with their eyes crinkled.

Yang Wei stared at that photo for a long time.

"Where is Lin Wanwan?" he asked.

"She went to class." Yang Chenglong scratched his head. "She'll be back tonight and says she'll cook for you."

Yang Wei nodded and sat down on the sofa.

Yang Chenglong stood to the side, somewhat at a loss. The father and son didn't have many opportunities to be alone together, and each time they did, they didn't know what to say.

Yang Wei noticed this and patted the sofa next to him: "Sit down."

Yang Chenglong sat down.

After a moment of silence, Yang Wei spoke up: "How are things here?"

"It's alright," Yang Chenglong said. "My brother has been helping me the whole time."

"Returning to one's roots?"

"Yes." Yang Chenglong nodded. "If it weren't for him, I probably would have gotten into trouble and been sent back long ago."

Yang Wei looked at him, feeling somewhat conflicted.

It's my own son, but others are taking care of him.

"That online store," he asked, "did you set it up yourself?"

"Hmm." Yang Chenglong's eyes lit up. "Selling cashmere scarves from Junken City is doing quite well. I made five hundred pounds last month."

Yang Wei was stunned: "Five hundred pounds? That much?"

Yang Chenglong smiled smugly: "Of course, I'm your son."

Yang Wei smiled too.

This kid is quite like me.

That night, Lin Wanwan returned.

When Yang Wei first saw this girl, his first impression was: clean. Not in terms of appearance, but in terms of her temperament. Pure and serene, like the waters of West Lake in Hangzhou.

"Hello, Uncle." Lin Wanwan was a little reserved. "I'll go cook."

Yang Wei nodded, watching her busy in the kitchen.

Yang Chenglong whispered from the side, "Dad, her cooking is amazing."

Yang Wei glanced at him sideways: "You've eaten there?"

“I eat it every day.” Yang Chenglong said confidently, “Her braised pork is even better than the ones in restaurants.”

Yang Wei didn't say anything, but he felt a warmth in his heart.

This girl seems reliable.

At the dinner table, Lin Wanwan prepared four dishes and a soup: braised pork belly, sweet and sour pork ribs, stir-fried seasonal vegetables, scrambled eggs with tomatoes, and a seaweed and egg drop soup. Yang Wei tasted everything and nodded.

"good to eat."

Lin Wanwan breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

Yang Chenglong, standing to the side, said smugly, "I told you so."

After dinner, Yang Chenglong went to wash the dishes, while Lin Wanwan sat with Yang Wei.

“Uncle,” Lin Wanwan suddenly said, “Jackie Chan often mentions you.”

Yang Wei looked at her.

“He said you were really capable in Africa, that you survived through gunfire,” Lin Wanwan said. “He said you are the person he admires most.”

Yang Wei was stunned for a moment.

Who is the person my son admires most?
“He also said,” Lin Wanwan continued, “that he wants to be a real man like you.”

Yang Wei fell silent.

He thought back on all those years, drinking, gambling, going to saunas, and wasting his time doing absolutely nothing. Was this the "real man" his son saw?
That night, Yang Wei couldn't sleep.

He lay on the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind a jumble of thoughts.

I think back to my days in Africa: the gunshots, the dust, the smell of sweat. I think back to when Ye Feng and I started the family business; how busy and tiring it was, but also how fulfilling it was. I think back to when my son was little, with his curly hair, running after me, calling out "Daddy, Daddy."

Then I thought back on all these years.

Divorce, separation, or simply lying down.

Drinking, playing cards, and going to saunas.

Day after day, year after year.

My son has grown up and gone to England. My wife lives in the provincial capital; we only see each other a few times a month. There's nothing to do at the company; the guys are all living their own lives.

Is this his life?
He suddenly sat up and made a phone call to Ye Guigen.

The person on the other end answered, their voice a little groggy: "Uncle Wei?"

"Gui Gen, are you asleep?"

"Not yet... what's wrong?"

Yang Wei was silent for a few seconds: "Tomorrow, take me to see your fund."

Ye Guigen was taken aback: "Now?"

"Tomorrow," Yang Wei said, "I want to see what you young people are busy with."

The next morning, Ye Guigen came to pick him up.

They went to the office of the Cornerstone & Wings Fund. It wasn't large, but it was in an old building in the City of London, with a view of the Thames River. Several young people were busy at work, their computer screens filled with data and charts.

Ye Guigen introduced him: "This is our team, mainly responsible for investment in African projects."

Looking at those young people, Yang Wei suddenly remembered himself from back then.

He was like that back then, full of energy, able to endure any hardship and dare to take any risk.

“Uncle Wei,” Ye Guigen said, “sit down, let me tell you about the project we’ve been working on recently.”

Yang Wei sat down and listened to Ye Guigen speak for two hours.

From solar power projects in North Africa to agricultural cooperation in East Africa to logistics networks in West Africa, each project may be small, but they are all genuinely changing the lives of local people.

“This project,” Ye Guigen pointed to a photo on the screen, “is a collaboration between us and Fatima. She’s a girl from a village in country C who can now read at night because of electricity. We sent her to country A for training, and now she’s back in her village teaching others.”

Yang Wei looked at the photo. A girl stood in front of a solar panel, smiling brightly.

He suddenly remembered his time in Africa, the mines he had protected, the people he had saved. Back then, he felt he was doing something great; now, thinking about it, which was greater, those things or this girl's smile?
“Ultimately,” he asked, “what are you all doing all this for?”

Ye Guigen thought for a moment and said, "I just want to have peace of mind."

Yang Wei was stunned.

“My grandfather said that people who do practical things have a clear conscience,” Ye Guigen said. “We do these projects not to make a lot of money, but to help those in need to live a better life.”

Yang Wei fell silent.

He reflected on his life over the years: making money, spending money, and then what? Did he feel at peace with himself?

No, he's not reliable.

He's just wasting his days.

In the afternoon, Yang Chenglong took him to meet some friends.

They were all people Yang Chenglong knew in London—students, business people, and laborers. Each had their own story and was trying to live their lives to the fullest.

There was a young man named Xiao Zhou who opened a milk tea shop. He worked from dawn till dusk every day, exhausted like a dog, but his eyes would light up when he talked about his shop.

“Brother Yang,” he said to Yang Chenglong, “when I’ve earned enough money, I’ll bring my parents over and let them see what London is like.”

Yang Chenglong patted him on the shoulder: "Yes."

Yang Wei watched from the side, feeling somewhat moved.

These young people have nothing, but they're giving it their all.

What about him? He has everything, but he doesn't want to strive for anything.

That evening, the father and son ate alone.

Yang Chenglong chose a small restaurant, not a high-end one, but a place he and Lin Wanwan often went to. The food wasn't expensive, but it tasted good.

"Dad," Yang Chenglong suddenly said, "did you go check on my brother's fund today?"

Yang Wei nodded.

"how do you feel?"

Yang Wei thought for a moment and said, "That's good."

Yang Chenglong looked at him, seemingly wanting to say something but then stopping himself.

Yang Wei understood: "What are you trying to say?"

Yang Chenglong scratched his head: "Dad, have you thought about doing something else?"

Yang Wei was stunned.

“I know you have nothing to do all day in the military reclamation city,” Yang Chenglong said. “Drinking, playing cards, going to saunas—these things get boring after a while.”

Yang Wei didn't say anything.

“I’m not saying you’re bad,” Yang Chenglong quickly said. “I just think it’s such a waste that someone as capable as you, who has spent so many years in Africa, is just sitting around doing nothing.”

Yang Wei looked at him: "What do you want me to do?"

Yang Chenglong scratched his head: "I don't know either. But you can think about it. You know so many people and have so many experiences, there must be something you can do."

Yang Wei remained silent for a long time.

Then he asked, "Jackie Chan, do you think Dad is amazing?"

Yang Chenglong nodded: "Impressive. I've always thought you were impressive since I was a child."

Yang Wei felt a pang of sadness.

“Actually, Dad isn’t that great,” he said. “All these years, Dad has just been drifting through life.” Yang Chenglong shook his head: “It’s not that you’re drifting through life, it’s that you haven’t found something you want to do. Before, in Africa, you had something to do, so you were great. Later, when you had nothing to do, you just… became like this.”

He looked at Yang Wei and said, "Dad, you need to find something to do. Not for me, but for yourself."

That night, Yang Wei suffered from insomnia again.

He lay in bed, thinking about his son's words.

“You need to find something to do. Not for me, but for yourself.”

Yes, he needs to find something to do.

But what to do?

I can't go to Africa, the company has nothing to do, and I don't want to get involved in business.

What can he do?
On the third day, Ye Guigen took him to meet someone.

He's an elderly British man named James who spent thirty years in Africa, working in mining, agriculture, logistics—he's done it all. Now retired, he lives in London, but he can't stay idle; he lectures at universities every week and occasionally advises some foundations.

James's eyes lit up when he heard about Yang Wei's experience.

“Yang, do you know how valuable your experience is?” he said. “You’ve spent time in Africa, experienced real danger, and dealt with complex problems. You can’t learn these things from books.”

Yang Wei smiled wryly: "That's all in the past."

James shook his head: "The past is a treasure for the present. Have you ever thought about passing on your experience to young people?"

Yang Wei was stunned.

“Many funds I know are looking for people like this,” James said. “Not managers, but consultants. People who go to Africa to do due diligence, assess risks, and handle emergencies. You are exactly the kind of person they need.”

Yang Wei looked at Ye Guigen.

Ye Guigen nodded: "Uncle Wei, our foundation needs someone like that. There are more and more projects in Africa, but there are too few people who truly understand Africa. If you're willing, you can be our consultant."

Yang Wei fell silent.

consultant?

Instead of charging ahead, they're standing at the back?

“I know what you’re thinking,” James laughed. “You feel this isn’t what you want to do. But Yang, at our age, it’s not the time to risk everything. We’re here to pass on our experience so that younger people can avoid making the same mistakes.”

He patted Yang Wei on the shoulder: "You don't just live for yourself, you also live for those who need you."

That night, Yang Wei thought about it for a long time.

He remembered his son's words: "You need to find something to do. Not for me, but for yourself."

He recalled James's words: "You don't just live for yourself, you also live for those who need you."

He recalled Ye Guigen's words: "We do these things so that those in need can live a better life."

At three in the morning, he picked up his phone and sent a message to Ye Guigen: "Guigen, I've taken over your job as an advisor."

On the fourth day, there was a parent-teacher meeting.

Yang Chenglong performed well at school. His teacher praised him for his great progress, saying that although the child had a poor foundation, he was willing to learn and work hard, and would be successful in the future.

Yang Wei sat in the audience, listening to his teacher's words, feeling a mix of emotions.

After the meeting, Yang Chenglong asked, "Dad, what did the teacher say?"

Yang Wei looked at him and said, "You're doing quite well."

Yang Chenglong scratched his head and grinned foolishly.

Yang Wei suddenly reached out and ruffled his curly hair.

“Jackie Chan,” he said, “Dad has something to do when he gets back.”

Yang Chenglong was stunned.

"I'll be a consultant for your online store," Yang Wei said. "I can help you get supplies from the military reclamation city. And in Africa, if you want to sell things there in the future, I know people."

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

Yang Wei nodded: "Really."

Yang Chenglong hugged him tightly.

They hugged her very tightly.

Yang Wei was a little breathless from being hugged, but he didn't push him away.

On the fifth day, Yang Wei returned to China.

When they saw each other off at the airport, Yang Chenglong's eyes were a little red.

"Dad, go back and do a good job."

Yang Wei nodded: "You too."

Lin Wanwan said from the side, "Uncle, take care of yourself."

Yang Wei looked at her and smiled, a rare occurrence for him.

"Girl, be nice to my son."

Lin Wanwan nodded: "I will."

Yang Wei turned around and walked into the security checkpoint.

After taking a few steps, he turned back.

Yang Chenglong was still standing there, waving at him.

Yang Wei also waved.

As he turned around, his eyes welled up with tears.

On the plane, he looked at the clouds outside the window and thought for a long time.

He originally thought this trip to London was just to attend a parent-teacher meeting and see how his son was doing.

Unexpectedly, I ended up being taught a lesson by my son.

“You need to find something to do. Not for me, but for yourself.”

Yes, he needs to find something to do.

It wasn't for anyone else; it was for himself.

For the self who once braved gunfire in Africa, for the self who once passionately founded a company, for the self whom his son regarded as a "real man."

The plane pierced through the clouds, and sunlight streamed in.

Yang Wei leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

He suddenly remembered his first trip to Africa many years ago. Back then, he was young, fearless, and daring to do anything.

He's not young anymore.

But he still has experience, connections, and a wealth of skills.

Those things shouldn't have rotted in the courtyard of the military reclamation city.

It should be made available to those who need it.

Upon returning to the military reclamation city, Zhang Jianjiang came to pick him up.

"How was it?" Zhang Jianjiang asked. "Was London fun?"

Yang Wei looked at him and suddenly said, "Jianjiang, we can't keep going like this."

Zhang Jianjiang was taken aback: "What's wrong?"

Yang Wei recounted what had happened in London.

After listening, Zhang Jianjiang remained silent for a long time.

Then he said, "Yang Wei, you've changed."

Yang Wei smiled wryly: "Has it gotten better or worse?"

Zhang Jianjiang thought for a moment: "It's gotten better."

He paused for a moment, then said, "Actually, I've thought about it for a while now. We're just drifting through life like this. I just don't know what we can do."

Yang Wei looked at him and said, "I have an idea."

"what?"

“Don’t we know so many people in Africa? Don’t we have so much experience? We can be consultants for companies that want to do business in Africa.”

Zhang Jianjiang's eyes lit up.

"Like the Ye Guigen Foundation?"

Yang Wei nodded: "Yes. Not just them, but other companies too. Africa is so big, with so many opportunities, but there are too few people who truly understand it. We are the 'people who understand'."

Zhang Jianjiang thought for a moment and said, "Okay, let's give it a try."

That night, at Yang Wei's house.

The two drank and discussed things for most of the night.

From how to find clients, to how to price, to how to collaborate, the more he talked, the more excited and energetic he became.

Finally, Zhang Jianjiang raised his glass: "Yang Wei, to you."

Yang Wei also raised his glass: "What are you toasting?"

Zhang Jianjiang laughed: "Let's stop lying down."

Yang Wei smiled too.

The two wine glasses clinked together, making a crisp sound.

Outside the window, the night in the military reclamation city is gentle.

Inside the house, two middle-aged people had just found new things to do.

Just like twenty years ago when they first started out.

Although my hair has thinned and my belly has grown bigger, the spirit in my heart is still there.

That night, Yang Wei sent his son a text message: "Jackie Chan, Dad's starting now."

The reply came very quickly.

It's a photograph.

In the photo, Yang Chenglong and Lin Wanwan stand together, smiling at the camera. Yang Chenglong is holding a sign that reads, "Dad, keep going!"

Yang Wei looked at the photo and smiled.

As I laughed, my eyes started to well up with tears.

He put his phone away, stood up, and walked into the yard.

The grape trellis is still there, the teapot is still there, and the melon seeds are still there.

But starting tomorrow, he won't be sitting here anymore.

He has something to do.

For her son's sake, and for her own. (End of Chapter)