Great Power Reclamation

The ashtray in front of Ye Yuze was already overflowing. Yu'e walked over, glared at him reproachfully, emptied the ashtray into the trash can, and then wiped the table with a damp cloth.

"Yuze, you've already retired, so you shouldn't get involved in the Warriors Group's affairs anymore. After all, you're over sixty years old; it's time to rest."

Ye Yuze shook his head and took out another cigarette from the pack. Yu'e snatched it away and stuffed it back into the pack.

"Keep smoking!"

Ye Yuze smiled and didn't reach for it again. He leaned back on the sofa, looking at the sky outside the window.

The snow stopped, and the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, shining brightly on the snow-covered rooftops across the street.

“Although I have retired,” he said, his voice a little hoarse but firm, “the responsibility is not yet over. Although the military reclamation city has become rich, there are still many people in northern Xinjiang living below the poverty line.”

Yu'e sat down beside him without saying a word. She knew he was telling the truth. Northern Xinjiang Province was vast; the military reclamation city was brightly lit, but beyond the light, large swathes of darkness remained.

She knew all about those villages hidden in the mountains and deserts, those places inaccessible by road, and those nomadic settlements without running water.

Ye Yuze reached for the cigarette again, but found nothing. Remembering that Yu'e had just taken the cigarette pack away, he awkwardly withdrew his hand.

“Helping these people,” he said, “is not only my responsibility, but the responsibility of the entire warrior group.”

He looked at Yu'e, his eyes becoming serious.

"After all, I am a member of the Production and Construction Corps, a second-generation member of the Corps. Our parents are getting old, and we must continue what they couldn't finish."

Yu'e sighed. How could she not know her husband's good intentions? She had married him in her twenties, and now their hair had both turned white; she knew this man all too well. Once he made up his mind, nothing could sway him.

“Just let Yang Wei’s children’s company handle it,” she said. “You should learn from Yang Geyong and just run his horse farm. You can just open your Chinese medicine clinic, isn’t that enough?”

She paused, then said, "The current president of the Warrior Group is Ye Feng, and the group is now a foreign-invested enterprise. You can support Yang Wei financially; there's no need for you to do everything yourself. Look at you, you spent two hours digging in the foundation pit today. You're sixty years old; don't you care about your back?"

Ye Yuze patted Yu'e's hand. Her hand was still so soft, just like it was decades ago back in their hometown.

Back then, she was still a student, with her hair in a ponytail. He went to his aunt's village. He met her there. She was wearing a plaid top, and the sunlight shone on her face, making her look like a painting.

“Yu’e,” he said, “do you remember when we were in Boston?”

Yu'e was taken aback: "Why are you suddenly bringing this up?"

“Back then, Ayijiang was still young. You would be reading a book while she did her homework next to you. You would tutor her in math, but she just couldn’t learn it. You would get so angry that your face would turn red, but you would still patiently teach her again and again.”

Yu'e smiled: "You still remember this?"

"I remember," Ye Yuze said. "Back then, I thought, this woman has such a kind heart."

Yu'e's face flushed slightly, just like when she was young.

Why are you saying all this?

“What I meant to say,” Ye Yuze grasped her hand:
"I've done three things right in my life. First, I founded the Warriors Group. Second, I raised all my children well. Third, I married you."

Yu'e's eyes reddened. She pulled her hand away and lightly slapped him: "You old lecher."

They both laughed.

After laughing, Ye Yuze's expression turned serious again.

“But Yu’e, the Warriors Group has come this far not by our own family alone. It was this land that gave us the opportunity, and the Corps that gave us our foundation. Now that we have the ability, we must give back.”

He stood up and walked to the window.

“Look at the military reclamation city, how beautiful it is. High-rise buildings have sprung up, roads have widened, and lights are shining. But look further into the distance—in those mountains, on those Gobi deserts, how many people are still living in hardship?”

Yu'e also stood up, walked to his side, and looked out the window.

"I'm not just going to throw away the Warriors Group's money and be done with it,"

Ye Yuze said, "I want to create a model, a model that can help poor areas stand up and develop on their own. What Yang Wei did at Hongshan Ranch is exactly what I want."

Yu'e was silent for a moment. Then she said, "Can your body handle it?"

“I can handle it.” Ye Yuze laughed. “I’m not going to be a construction worker. I’ll just offer suggestions and oversee things. Let the younger generation handle the actual work.”

Yu'e didn't say anything more. She knew she couldn't persuade this man. Having been with him for half her life, she knew his principles—he never shirked what he had to bear.

The phone rang. Ye Yuze answered it; it was Yifei.

Yifei's voice came from the other end of the phone, sounding tired—she had just returned from a meeting in Beijing, after a long flight, and her voice was still hoarse.

"Dad, I know about what happened today. Don't feel burdened. The Warrior Group has done enough. You don't need to come to the scene in person."

Just as Ye Yuze was about to speak, Yifei added, "Also, Ayijiang called me, asking the Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps to fund the local people's poverty alleviation efforts. I'd like to hear your opinion."

Ye Yuze listened patiently. Although Yifei was Ye Feng's wife and daughter-in-law, their relationship was more like that of a father and daughter. This closeness was not only because she had married into the Ye family, but also because she was Yinhua's niece.

Silver flowers.

This name will never disappear from his heart. The little girl who passed away when he was a teenager, his childhood sweetheart, will forever live in the softest place in his heart.

Yifei was the closest person Yinhua left in this world. Therefore, he treated Yifei even more dearly than he treated his own son.

“Yifei,” he said, his voice steady and firm.
"Although we are members of the Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps, we also live on this land. The Corps and the local community are like the palm and the back of the hand; neither can do without the other. Therefore, we should not have any territorial mentality and should help those we can."

Yifei nodded on the other end of the phone: "Dad, I understand."

“Furthermore,” Ye Yuze added, “I support Ayijiang’s idea for a platform. The Ye family can participate, but not hold a controlling stake. This platform must belong to the Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps, to northern Xinjiang, and to the people themselves. We cannot turn it into the Ye family’s backyard.”

"I understand, Dad."

"When are you coming back?" Ye Yuze's voice softened a bit. "Your mother misses you."

Yifei smiled and asked, "Dad, do you miss me or Mom misses me?"

"I want both." Ye Yuze smiled. "Your mom was saying yesterday that Yifei hasn't been back for a long time, and she hasn't been able to bear eating any of the pomegranates at home; she's saved them all for you."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Yifei's voice choked with emotion: "Dad, I'll go back to see you and Mom in the next couple of days."

Okay. Be careful on the road.

After hanging up the phone, Ye Yuze turned around and found Yu'e looking at him.

"Is Yifei coming back?"

"Yes. They said they'd be back in the next couple of days."

Yu'e smiled, her wrinkles smoothing out: "Then I'll go to the market tomorrow to buy some good vegetables. She loves my braised fish."

As Ye Yuze watched Yu'e busily rummaging through the refrigerator and making a menu, an indescribable warmth welled up in his heart.

He recalled his youth, those days in Tangcheng. Back then, he was busy studying and doing business at the same time, barely having time to spare.

His mother lived with him and Yu'e in a small, simple house. Yu'e went to school during the day and came home in the evening to help her mother design clothes.

As his career grew, so did the responsibilities at home.

Yu'e never argued or made a fuss. She treated every child as her own and everyone who came to her home as family.

Ye Yuze walked to the window and looked at the distant mountains behind the village. The snow-covered mountains were so clearly outlined, as if carved by a knife. He knew that there was a tombstone on that mountain, and beneath it lay Yinhua.

He suddenly felt a strong urge to talk to Yinhua.

It wasn't the kind of sad, nostalgic talk; it was the kind of calm talk, like chatting with an old friend.

He wanted to tell Yinhua: Don't worry, Yifei is doing well. She married into a good family, and Ye Feng treats her very well. She's now the head of the production and construction corps, and she's doing an excellent job. Your sister—Yifei's mother—is also doing well, in good health, and dances in the square every day.

He also wanted to tell Yinhua: "In this life, I married a good woman. Her name is Yu'e. You haven't met her, but you will definitely like her. She treats Yifei like her own daughter and all the children like her own. Don't worry."

He also wanted to tell Yinhua: The military reclamation city has changed, so much so that you don't even recognize it anymore. The buildings are taller, the roads are wider, and the lights are brighter. But some things haven't changed—the hearts of the people of the Production and Construction Corps are still warm.

Ye Yuze stood by the window for a long time.

Yang Wei was awakened by a knock on the door.

He opened his eyes; it was already broad daylight. Sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the curtains, drawing a golden line on the floor. He checked his phone; it was already ten o'clock.

The knocking continued. Yang Geyong's voice came from outside: "Wei Zi, are you up? Grandpa Habuli is gone."

Yang Wei sat up abruptly, quickly dressed, and went out the door.

In the living room, Yang Geyong sat alone at the table, with a bowl of milk tea and half a naan bread in front of him.

Habuli is gone, and so are the lamb leg and the bag of milk curds—no, the milk curds are still there, on the table, with a note next to them.

Yang Wei walked over and picked up the slip of paper. The writing on the paper was crooked and uneven; some were Chinese characters, some were Kazakh, and some were pinyin. He looked at it for a while and roughly understood it:

"Mr. Yang, I'm leaving. Keep the sheep, and give the milk curds to your father. You're a good man, God bless you. Habuli."

Yang Wei stared blankly at the note for a long time.

When did he leave?

“He left before dawn,” Yang Geyong said. “I asked him to stay for breakfast, but he refused. He said the sheep at home hadn’t been fed yet, and his wife couldn’t manage it all by herself.”

Yang Wei fell silent.

"Did he come with sheep and then drive them back?" he asked.

Yang Geyong shook his head: "The sheep stayed. Ten of them, not one missing. He said they were for you, and that you must accept them."

Yang Wei walked into the yard and saw the ten sheep. They were tied up in the sheepfold in the corner of the yard—

The sheepfold was built by Yang Geyong when he was raising horses. It was dilapidated, but the sheep didn't mind and were quietly grazing.

The ten sheep were all very plump. Their coats were shiny, and their eyes were bright; they were clearly carefully selected. Yang Wei squatted down and stroked the head of one of the sheep. The sheep looked up at him, bleated, and then lowered its head to continue grazing.

Yang Wei's eyes welled up with tears.

He recalled what Habuli had said yesterday: "I'm not giving you sheep, I'm giving you my heartfelt wishes."

Three days. He drove ten sheep for three days. The temperature was below minus twenty degrees Celsius, and the snow on the Gobi Desert was ankle-deep. A seventy-year-old Kazakh man, all to deliver ten sheep to him.

He took out his phone and called Habuli. The phone rang for a long time before being answered. Habuli sounded a little breathless, probably on his way.

"Grandpa, have you arrived yet?"

"Almost there, just half a day's journey left." Habuli laughed on the other end of the phone. "Mr. Yang, don't worry about me. I've walked this road my whole life. I could walk back with my eyes closed."

“Grandpa, I’ll take the sheep,” Yang Wei said, “but you have to promise me one thing.”

"what's up?"

"Next spring, I'll send you ten breeding sheep. They'll be superior breeds, even better than the ten you already have. You can't refuse them."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Then Habuli laughed, a very happy laugh.

"Okay! I'll take it! I'll take whatever Mr. Yang gives me!"

After hanging up the phone, Yang Wei stood in the yard, looking at the ten sheep, for a long time.

Yang Geyong walked up behind him without him noticing and handed him a bowl of milk tea.

"Have a drink."

Yang Wei took the bowl and took a sip. The tea was salty, with salt and milk added, exactly the same as what Habuli's family drank.

"Dad, when did you learn to brew this kind of tea?"

Yang Geyong didn't answer. He stood next to Yang Wei, also looking at the ten sheep.

“Wei Zi,” he suddenly said, “your mother would be very happy to see you like this now.”

Yang Wei was stunned.

His mother, Zhao Ling'er, was the daughter of the regimental commander of the former military reclamation town. She was also the second mayor of the military reclamation town.

She was always so busy that Yang Wei rarely saw her.

"Your mother is a good leader, but not a good mother,"

Yang Geyong said in a low voice, as if talking to himself, "She is responsible and courageous, but she doesn't care about her family."

He paused for a moment, looking at the sky in the distance.

"She's back in the US now, running the Liu Qinghua Foundation. Her only concern is her work!"

Yang Wei held the bowl, his hands trembling. "When I was young, I couldn't take care of you either." Yang Geyong turned to look at him, his eyes red, but he didn't cry. "But now, you're a good man."

Yang Wei wanted to say something, but something seemed to be blocking his throat. He just nodded.

Yang Geyong patted him on the shoulder, turned and walked away. After taking two steps, he stopped again.

"Don't sell those ten sheep. Keep them. We can't waste the goodwill that Habuli gave us."

"Ah."

Yang Geyong left. Yang Wei stood alone in the courtyard, holding the bowl of milk tea that had gone cold, for a long time.

In the afternoon, Yang Wei went to Ye Yuze's house.

He was going to discuss the platform with Ye Yuze. He had written the plan, but some details still needed to be finalized—how to allocate funds, how to distribute shares, how to build the team, and who would provide the technology. These were things he couldn't figure out on his own.

Ye Yuze's home is in the eastern villa area of ​​the military reclamation city. The yard isn't large, but it's very clean. There are two poplar trees at the entrance, which Ye Yuze planted himself years ago, and they've grown quite tall now.

There is a vegetable garden in the yard where tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers are grown in the summer, but it is left empty in the winter, covered with a thick layer of snow.

Yang Wei knocked on the door. Yu'e opened the door, saw him, and smiled.

"Yang Wei is here? Come in quickly. Your Uncle Ye is in the study."

Yang Wei entered the house. The living room was warm, with the heating on full blast. On the coffee table were a plate of apples, a plate of naan bread, and a pot of tea.

Yu'e poured him a bowl of tea; it was brick tea with milk, and it was salty.

"Aunt Yu'e, you drink this kind of tea too?"

Yu'e laughed: "Your Uncle Ye likes to drink, so I started drinking with him. I got used to it after a while."

Yang Wei picked up the bowl and took a sip. For some reason, he felt this tea was saltier than Habuli's—no, not salty, but strong. Strong like an unyielding affection.

Ye Yuze came out of the study, holding a pair of reading glasses. He saw Yang Wei and nodded.

"They've arrived? They brought the plan?"

"I brought it."

The two entered the study. Yu'e called from behind, "Don't smoke again! The window is open!"

Ye Yuze turned around and replied, "Got it!" Then he closed the door, took out a pack of cigarettes from the drawer, and handed one to Yang Wei.

Yang Wei laughed: "Uncle Ye, didn't Aunt Yu'e say that smoking is not allowed?"

"Smoke it when she's not around." Ye Yuze lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and said, "Don't tell her."

The two men sat facing each other, smoking, the smoke rising gently into the study. The study wasn't large, but it was filled with books.

One wall was lined with bookshelves, stretching from floor to ceiling, crammed full. There were Chinese books, English books, and Russian books.

Yang Wei noticed a row of books about agriculture on the bookshelf—grassland improvement, breed breeding, and livestock farming.

"Uncle Ye, have you been looking at these lately?"

Ye Yuze nodded: "If you're going to build a platform, you have to be knowledgeable in the industry. Passion alone isn't enough; you need expertise."

Yang Wei handed the plan to Ye Yuze. Ye Yuze put on his reading glasses and looked at it page by page.

He read very slowly, taking several minutes to read each page. Sometimes he would stop to think, and sometimes he would turn back to read it again.

Yang Wei sat opposite him without saying a word. He looked at Ye Yuze's serious expression and felt a pang of emotion.

He was over sixty years old; he should have retired and enjoyed his retirement long ago. But he didn't. He was still reading, still learning, and still concerned about the people in those poor areas.

About half an hour later, Ye Yuze finished reading. He took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“It’s well written,” he said, “but there are a few problems.”

"Please speak."

"First, funding. You wrote ten million in start-up capital. That's not enough. I've calculated it, and at least thirty million is needed."

“Platform setup, team building, technology research and development, and marketing—all of these require money. Ten million won’t last six months.”

Yang Wei was taken aback. He hadn't expected Ye Yuze to have calculated things so meticulously.

"Second, the team. The team structure you wrote is too simple. You only wrote the marketing department, the technology department, and the operations department."

"But you're still missing two departments—quality control and training. Quality control is our core competitiveness, and training is the guarantee for sustainable development. These two departments are indispensable."

Yang Wei took out his notebook and started taking notes quickly.

“Third,” Ye Yuze looked at him, “yourself. In the proposal you wrote, you are the general manager. But have you ever thought that you are not just the general manager? You are also the benefactor of Hongshan Ranch, a person trusted by the herders, and a person valued by Ayijiang. This identity is much more important than that of the general manager.”

Yang Wei put down his pen and looked at Ye Yuze.

"Uncle Ye, what do you mean—"

“What I mean is,” Ye Yuze said, “don’t think of yourself as the boss of a company. You should think of yourself as a bridge. A bridge connecting the military and local areas, connecting cities and villages, connecting markets and herders.”

The purpose of a bridge is not to allow people to stand on it, but to allow them to walk across it.

Yang Wei fell silent. He remembered what Ayijiang had said—"You can't stay at Hongshan Ranch forever." He remembered what Habuli had said—"It's not that you should, it's that you're willing." He remembered what Yang Geyong had said—"You're doing a great job now."

“I understand, Uncle Ye,” he said.

Ye Yuze nodded and lit another cigarette.

“I’ll take care of the funding. The Ye family will contribute half of the 30 million, and the Corps will contribute the other half. As for the shares, we’ll do it the way Ayijiang suggested—the Corps will hold a controlling stake, the Ye family will have a minority stake, and you’ll get stock options.”

Yang Wei was taken aback: "I get stock options?"

“That’s right.” Ye Yuze looked at him. “You’re not working for me, nor are you working for the Corps. You’re working for yourself. This platform is yours.”

Yang Wei's eyes welled up with tears.

"Uncle Ye, I—"

"Stop talking." Ye Yuze waved his hand. "Just go and do it. If you do it well, it's everyone's benefit. If you mess it up, I'll take responsibility."

The two chatted for a long time in the study. It was dark by the time they finished talking when Yu'e knocked on the door.

"Are you two going to eat or not? The food's getting cold!"

Ye Yuze smiled: "Let's go eat. Yu'e's braised fish is delicious."

Yang Wei followed Ye Yuze out of the study. In the living room, the dining table was laden with dishes: braised fish, stewed mutton, stir-fried vegetables, cucumber salad, and a bowl of tomato and egg soup.

Yu'e was still busy in the kitchen, the spatula clanging against the iron pot.

"Aunt Yu'e, stop making it, there's enough to eat!" Yang Wei shouted.

"There's one more soup!" Yu'e's voice came from the kitchen. "It'll be ready soon!"

Yang Wei sat down, looking at the table full of dishes, and a feeling he couldn't quite describe welled up inside him. He remembered the pot of mutton at Habuli's house, the salty milk tea that Yang Geyong had cooked, and the way Ayijiang had slammed his fist on the table in the conference room.

These people, these events, this land.

He suddenly felt that his life had been worthwhile.

thirteen
That night, when Yang Wei left Ye Yuze's house, it was already completely dark.

The snow started falling again, lightly, fine and dense, shimmering under the streetlights. He stood at the doorway and took a deep breath. The cold air filled his lungs, icy, but invigorating.

He took out his phone and sent a message to Yang Chenglong.

"Son, Dad accomplished something again today."

This time, the reply came quickly. Not with text, but with a video.

Yang Wei clicked to watch. In the video, Yang Chenglong was standing in the school auditorium, receiving an award. He was wearing a white shirt, a red scarf, and holding a certificate in his hand.

There was applause from the audience, and people were calling his name. His face was flushed from the lights, and he was smiling happily.

The video was followed by the text: "Dad, I got first place in the class."

Yang Wei was taken aback. Didn't they say he was third in the class last time? How did he become first again?
He watched the video again to make sure he wasn't mistaken. The certificate did indeed say "First Place".

He laughed, and tears streamed down his face.

Then he made a phone call to Yang Chenglong.

"Hey, Dad!" Yang Chenglong's voice came from the other end of the phone, carrying a childlike sense of pride.

"Didn't you say you were third in the class? How did you become first?"

"Hehe," Yang Chenglong laughed, "I was third last time, and I'm first this time. I've improved."

When was the exam?

"Today, I just finished the exam. The teacher gave out certificates on the spot."

Yang Wei stood in the snow, listening to his son's voice, and felt as warm as if he had a stove inside his heart.

“Son,” he said, “you are great.”

“Dad, you’re even better,” Yang Chenglong said earnestly. “You saved two lives. I told my classmates that my dad saved two lives in XJ. They all say my dad is a hero.”

Yang Wei paused for a moment, then laughed.

“Dad isn’t a hero,” he said. “Dad is just an ordinary person. He did some ordinary things.”

“No,” Yang Chenglong said, “What you did was no ordinary thing. You helped those herders sell their sheep, and you saved two people. These are big things. Dad, you are my idol.”

Yang Wei's eyes welled up with tears. He remembered Marshal Ye's words—"You are the toughest person I have ever met." He remembered Habuli's words, "You are a good person." He remembered Yang Geyong's words, "You are a good person now."

“Son,” he said, “Dad is proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you too, Dad.”

After hanging up the phone, Yang Wei stood in the snow for a long time.

Snow fell on his hair, his shoulders, his eyelashes. He didn't move. He just stood there, watching the lights of the military reclamation town.

One by one, they were lit.

Like stars.

The outline of the distant mountains behind him was faintly visible, like a sleeping giant. He knew there was still much to do tomorrow.

The platform's plan needs to be revised, funding needs to be secured, the team needs to be built, the pilot project of Hongshan Ranch needs to be continued, and there are still thirty "Hongshan Ranches" waiting for him to implement.

But he wasn't afraid.

Because he knew he wasn't alone.

With Ayijiang leading the way, Ye Yuze supporting them from behind, Zhang Jianjiang helping them from the side, and herders like Habuli having faith in them.

And there's Yang Chenglong—his son—watching him from afar, idolizing him.

This is enough.

Yang Wei turned and walked towards home. The snow was still falling, but his steps were steady.

He took a few steps, then suddenly stopped, turned around, and looked at the window of Ye Yuze's house.

Warm yellow light shone through the window, and you could vaguely see Aunt Yu'e tidying up the table, while Ye Yuze sat on the sofa with a cup of tea in his hand.

He suddenly remembered a quote from Ye Yuze: "The purpose of a bridge is not to stand on it, but to let people walk across it."

He smiled, turned around, and continued walking.

Snow fell on his footprints, one by one, stretching into the distance.

The night in Junken City is quiet and warm.

On the distant back mountain, a layer of fresh snow had settled on Yinhua's tombstone.

But the ground beneath the snow has already begun to loosen.

Spring is almost here. (End of Chapter)