Great Power Reclamation

In the middle of the night, Ye Yuze woke up thirsty.

His throat felt dry and parched, as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper. He was about to get up to pour some water when he noticed the glass was on the bedside table, just a hand's breadth away from his hand.

He moved his body slightly, and Yu'e woke up—she always seemed to be like this, she knew even when he turned over—she sat up, reached out and picked up the cup, and brought it to his lips.

"This is honey water, drink it quickly," she said softly, with a hoarse voice from just waking up. "You get thirsty after drinking alcohol, I knew you'd wake up in the middle of the night."

Ye Yuze drank it down in one gulp. The water was lukewarm, neither too hot nor too cold, and just the right amount of sweetness.

He knew that Yu'e must have poured out this glass of water several times—she always set an alarm for him on nights when he was drunk, got up every hour to pour out the cooled water, added warm water, and stirred in a spoonful of honey.

Otherwise, the water wouldn't still be warm at this point.

He held the empty cup, and his eyes suddenly welled up with tears.

Sixty-year-old Ye Yuze had spent most of his life navigating the business world, weathering storms and enduring countless hardships. He had been held at gunpoint and fought to the death, yet he had never shed a tear. But now, in the dead of night, a cup of warm honey water brought tears to his eyes.

He put down his cup and reached out to embrace Yu'e's soft body. She was wearing an old cotton nightgown, the collar of which was worn and pilling, but she had a faint scent of soap that hadn't changed in decades.

"I've been acting ridiculously for so many years, aren't you angry?"

His voice was muffled, close to her hair.

Yu'e didn't answer immediately. She thought for a moment, not in a perfunctory way, but genuinely—thinking about the nights he wasn't home, the days she took the child to the hospital alone, and the moments when she heard people say he "had another woman" outside.

Then she smiled. It wasn't a bitter smile, nor a forced one; it was a clear and serene smile that came from having weathered many storms.

"How could I not be angry?" She looked up at him, fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, but her eyes were still bright, just as bright as they were decades ago when she handed him the handkerchief in college.

"I'm not a bodhisattva, I'm a woman too. You don't come back for ten days or half a month, and when you do, you're full of alcohol and just fall asleep. How can I not be angry?"

Ye Yuze hugged her tightly, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“But,” Yu’e’s voice lowered, as if afraid of waking something, “a man like you is destined not to belong to any woman. I knew that from the day I married you.”

She paused, seemingly considering her words.

"You are like the wind, I can't catch you. But I can stand in the wind and feel you when you blow over."

Ye Yuze didn't say anything, he just buried his face in her hair.

“Besides,” Yu’e’s voice lightened, “you’ve arranged everything perfectly. No one will try to compete with me for your favor. In that respect, you’re even better than Dad—”

“Besides Mom, Dad also has Aunt Ye Ling’er by his side. As for you, you’ve cut ties with all those outside, and settled things with those who needed to be settled. No one has ever come to me to show off.”

Ye Yuze's heart softened, and he couldn't help but kiss her.

He once thought that Yinhua, the little girl who died in her teens and was his childhood sweetheart, was his true love.

His heart died after she left. He thought he would never love anyone again, only desire remained—

He had a lust for money, a lust for power, a lust for women. He thought he had become an empty shell, filled with alcohol and cigarette ash.

But only now did I realize that Yinhua was merely a passerby in my life. And a passerby whose time was extremely short, like a shooting star, gone as soon as it appeared.

Yu'e was his true love—not the kind of passionate, dramatic love, but a love that was ingrained in his bones, ingrained in his flesh, and impossible to pull out.

He kissed her with the impatience of a twenty-year-old lad. As he pressed her down, Yu'e gently punched his chest.
"Slow down, how old are you..."

But her hands still wrapped around his neck.

Men express their love in many ways. Some use flowers, some use money, and some use sweet words.

For example, Ye Yuze at this moment is using his own body. He is full of energy and vitality, making Yu'e feel like she has returned to her twenties.

Her face was flushed, and she bit her lip, afraid to make a sound lest she wake the people in the next room.

After a while, everything returned to calm.

Yu'e nestled against Ye Yuze's chest, like a lazy cat, motionless. Her hair cascaded over his shoulder, tickling him.

Her fingers drew circles on his chest, round and round, without stopping.

She was as gentle as water. To be pampered by a man for decades, what more could she ask for?
The tombstone that had always stood on the back hill was once a thorn in her heart.

From the moment she arrived in the military reclamation town, she heard the story of her husband and that woman named Yinhua. Everywhere she went, people told her—your husband had a childhood sweetheart when he was young, she died, and she was buried in the back mountain.

Your man said that she is the love of his life, and he wants to be buried next to her even after he dies.

Those words were like needles, piercing her heart one by one. She didn't say anything or make a fuss, but that didn't mean she wasn't in pain.

Furthermore, Ye Yuze explicitly stated that he wanted to be buried next to Yinhua after his death. He was very serious when he said this; he wasn't joking.

Yu'e remembered that afternoon when they stood on the balcony looking at the hill behind them. He pointed in one direction on the hillside and said:

“There, I will be buried there from now on, next to the silver flower.”

She didn't say anything. But that night, she cried alone in bed for a long time.

As a wife and lover, she was naturally unhappy. She also wanted this man to belong to her not only in this life, but for all eternity.

She wanted to be buried with him, to lie beside him for a thousand years, ten thousand years. This thought was petty and selfish, but she just couldn't control it.

But at this moment, as she lay against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, strong and steady, she suddenly felt that none of that mattered anymore.

Whoever she's buried with, she'll stay by his side. Because she won't leave, whether in life or death. He's buried next to the silver flowers, and she'll be buried next to him. The three of them, companions.

She looked up at Ye Yuze's chin. There were a few white stubbles on his chin, glistening in the moonlight.

"Yuze," she called softly.

"Ok?"

“I’m at peace with it,” she said. “I’m completely at peace with Yinhua.”

Ye Yuze looked down at her. Moonlight streamed in through the gaps in the curtains, illuminating her face. Her expression was calm, like a still lake.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for my whole life.”

Yu'e laughed and covered his mouth with her hand: "What are you thanking me for? I'm your wife."

The phone suddenly rang.

In the dead of night, the ringing of the telephone sounded particularly jarring, like a pair of scissors cutting a gash in the silence.

Ye Yuze frowned and reached for the phone on the bedside table. Few people call in the middle of the night unless something serious has happened—countless thoughts flashed through his mind:

Has something happened to one of the sons? Has something happened to the company? Is it...?

He answered, his voice a little nervous: "Hello?"

A young and energetic voice came from the other end of the phone, speaking Chinese with a slight Jeep accent: "Dad!"

Ye Yuze paused for a moment, then his brows relaxed. It was Marshal Ye, his third son. Marshal Ye, far away in Jeep.

"Dad, I won the governorship!"

The voice on the phone was filled with excitement and pride, that undisguised joy unique to young people, flowing through the phone line like a shot of strong liquor. Ye Yuze could even picture his son—

He must be standing somewhere, holding a phone in one hand, clenching his fist in the other, his eyes so bright they could light a cigarette.

Ye Yuze smiled. He didn't jump up and cheer, nor did he become incoherent with excitement; he simply smiled. It was a smile unique to a father—a smile of contentment, pride, but one that he didn't want to show too obviously.

“Don’t be arrogant,” he said, his voice as steady as if he were discussing a business deal. “You’re only thirty. You have a long road ahead of you. Being governor isn’t the end, it’s the beginning. You have a lot to do and a lot to learn.”

Ye Shuai nodded and agreed on the other end of the phone, like a schoolchild listening to a teacher's lecture. But Ye Yuze knew that while the kid readily agreed, he was definitely rolling his eyes in his heart.

Marshal Ye was like this from a young age; outwardly obedient, but inwardly more stubborn than anyone else.

"How is your mother?" Ye Yuze asked.

He was asking about Ivana—Ye Shuai's biological mother, the jeep woman with eyes as blue as Lake Baikal.

He owed so many women a debt of gratitude in his life, and Ivana was one of them. She raised Marshal Ye, taught him Russian, taught him to ride horses, and taught him how to survive the Siberian winter. Ivana deserves more credit than he did for Marshal Ye's success.

Marshal Ye agreed, then immediately asked, "Where's my mother? Is she awake?"

Ye Yuze was taken aback. He subconsciously thought that Marshal Ye was asking about Ivana—his birth mother, so it was only natural for her to call him "Mom".

But he soon realized that the "mother" Ye Shuai was referring to was not Ivana from the moment she came into his life.

Marshal Ye was asking about Yu'e.

From the moment Marshal Ye met Yu'e, "Mama" was always Yu'e. Ivana was "Ivana" or "Jeep Mama"—there was a specific name to distinguish them.

But Yu'e is "Mom," the only and irreplaceable "Mom."

Ye Yuze felt a surge of warmth in his heart and handed the phone to Yu'e.

“They’re looking for you,” he said, a hint of barely perceptible smugness in his voice, “your son.”

Yu'e took the phone, and her voice changed instantly—becoming gentle and dignified.

She is a wife in front of Ye Yuze and a mother in front of her children, switching between these two identities with ease.

"Shuai Shuai!" she called out, using Ye Shuai's nickname, which only her family called him. "What time is it where you are? Why aren't you asleep yet?"

On the other end of the phone, Ye Shuai was saying something, and Yu'e listened and laughed, but then her eyes welled up with tears.

"Okay, okay, Mom is so proud of you... Yes, yes, take care of yourself, don't overwork yourself... Hmm, your dad just told you not to be arrogant... Yes, yes, that's just how your dad is, don't pay him any mind..."

Ye Yuze listened from the side and lit a cigarette. The smoke rose in the moonlight, like a pale blue ribbon.

He listened as Yu'e and Marshal Ye chatted on and on, from the election to life, from life to the weather, and from the weather to food.

Yu'e would laugh one moment and scold the next, like a nagging old lady. Marshal Ye on the other end of the phone wasn't annoyed at all; he just listened and responded every now and then.

Ye Yuze felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.

Although his sons all had their own biological mothers, they all regarded Yu'e as their closest relative.

Ye Feng was like this, Ye Mao was like this, Marshal Ye was like this, and so were his other sons. This wasn't what he demanded, nor was it what Yu'e demanded; it was the children's heartfelt choice.

This wasn't to curry favor with him. Ye Yuze knew his sons—none of them lived to please anyone.

Ye Feng was as stubborn as an ox, Ye Mao was as shrewd as a fox, Ye Shuai was as wild as a wolf, and Ye Fei was as sullen as a stone. If they didn't accept it in their hearts, not even eight sedan chairs could carry them.

Rather, it was Yu'e's kindness to them over the years that everyone remembered.

She remembered that Ye Feng loved to eat braised pork when he was a child. Every time Ye Feng came back, she would stew a pot of it and watch him finish it.

She remembered that Ye Mao was afraid of the cold, so in winter he would always heat up the radiator in advance and leave his cotton slippers at the door.

She remembered that Marshal Ye loved riding horses, so she specially asked someone to buy him a riding whip from Inner Mongolia. She remembered that Ye Fei was not talkative, so she would always quietly put fruit and snacks in his room without disturbing him.

These things may seem trivial, but doing small things for decades makes them big.

No matter how powerful a man is, his life will be a mess if he doesn't have a good woman.

Ye Yuze has seen too many people like this—their careers are thriving, but when they get home, they can't even get a hot meal.
He could command respect and influence outside, but when he fell ill, not even someone would bring him water. He was glad he wasn't that kind of person.

After hanging up the phone, Yu'e talked to Marshal Ye for a while longer before reluctantly putting down the phone.

“This child,” she wiped her eyes, “has lost weight.”

"You haven't even seen him, how do you know he's lost weight?" Ye Yuze said with a smile.

“You can tell just by listening to his voice,” Yu’e said seriously. “His voice sounds different than before; he must be tired.”

Ye Yuze shook his head and said nothing more. He knew Yu'e was right—sometimes she understood the child better than he did himself.

The moonlight outside the window grew brighter and brighter, shining on the jasmine plant that Yu'e had grown on the windowsill.

That potted plant has been blooming for over ten years, and every summer it blooms densely, filling the whole house with fragrance.

Ye Yuze stubbed out his cigarette and lay down. Yu'e rested her head on his chest again, just like before.

“Yuze,” she said suddenly.

"Ok?"

"Do you think Shuai Shuai will never come back after becoming governor?"

Ye Yuze thought about it. He had considered this question before. Marshal Ye had settled down in Jeep, building a career, a family, and his own world. He was like an eagle; once he flew out, he would never return.

“No,” he said with certainty, “he will come back. This is his home.”

Yu'e didn't say anything more, but just rubbed her face against his chest, like a cat seeking warmth.

Ye Yuze held her close, his gaze passing over her head and looking out the window. Outside was the night sky of the military reclamation city, teeming with stars—far more numerous than in the city itself. The distant outline of the mountains behind the city was faintly visible, like a sleeping giant.

He knew there was a tombstone on that mountain, and beneath it lay a girl named Yinhua. That was his childhood, his youth, and a scar that would forever remain in his heart.

But the scar no longer hurts; it's just there, a reminder that he once loved and lost.

And now, the woman he holds in his arms is his final resting place.

He recalled a sentence he had read in a book when he was young:

"In this life, you will meet two kinds of people: one who amazes you and the other who soothes your years."

Silver flowers dazzled his time, jade maidens softened his years. Two women, one gave him memories, the other gave him a lifetime.

He didn't feel he owed anyone anything. Yinhua had his promise, and Yu'e had his life. That was enough.

The night grew deeper. The wind outside the window stopped, and the snow stopped too. The military reclamation town was quiet, like a sleeping baby.

Ye Yuze closed his eyes, listened to Yu'e's even breathing, and slowly fell asleep.

This time, he wasn't dreaming.

Or rather, he no longer needs to dream. Because everything he wants is already by his side. (End of Chapter)