Great Power Reclamation

In August, Hangzhou is as hot as a steamer.

Yang Chenglong flew in from London. As soon as he stepped out of the cabin, a wave of heat hit him, and his glasses immediately fogged up.

He took it off, wiped it, and dragged his suitcase out. The back of his T-shirt was already soaked.

Lin Wanwan waited for him at the arrival gate. She was wearing a floral dress, her hair was down, and she was holding a cup of iced milk tea. When she saw Yang Chenglong come out, she didn't wave, but just stood there and smiled.

"Why are you so tanned again?" Yang Chenglong walked up to her.

"The sun in Hangzhou is bigger than in London." Lin Wanwan handed him the milk tea. "I bought this for you, less ice and less sugar."

Yang Chenglong took the cup and drank a big gulp. The cool milk tea slid down his throat, making him squint his eyes in comfort.

"Let's go back to the company first." Lin Wanwan took his arm. "Something's happened."

Yang Chenglong, with milk tea still in his mouth, almost choked. "What is it?"

"Our Italian customer received the third batch of scarves. We randomly inspected twenty of them, and three of them had quality issues. One had uneven color, one had loose threads at the edge, and another... they said it 'feels wrong'."

Yang Chenglong frowned, dragging his suitcase as he followed her out. "What do you mean the feel is off?"

"That means it's not as soft as the first two batches."

Lin Wanwan's tone was anxious, "They sent me a video, and I watched it. It seems there was a problem with the processing of a batch of wool. Your dad said it went wrong in the dyeing process. A batch of wool wasn't rinsed thoroughly after dyeing, and the residual dye made the wool stiff."

The two got into a taxi and headed towards the creative park. Yang Chenglong leaned back in his seat, his mind racing.

How much of this batch of goods was shipped?

"Two hundred. Fifty have been held back by Italy, who say they're waiting for our explanation. The other one hundred and fifty have arrived at their warehouse, but haven't been put on the shelves yet."

"What about Germany?"

"The order from Germany hasn't been shipped yet. I'll have your dad stop for now and we'll talk about it after we figure out the reason."

Yang Chenglong was silent for a moment. He took out his phone and called Yang Wei.

"Dad, what exactly happened with that shipment from Italy?"

Yang Wei's voice sounded tired. "There was a problem with the dyeing process. The new workers weren't skilled enough and didn't control the dyeing time properly. One batch of wool wasn't rinsed thoroughly after dyeing. Lin Xiaoyu has already sealed that batch of wool and is retraining the workers."

"What about the goods that have already been shipped?"

“I will personally go to Italy,” Yang Wei said. “Return the fifty problematic ones and reissue them. As for the one hundred and fifty that have already arrived at the warehouse, check them one by one and pick out the problematic ones.”

Yang Chenglong thought for a moment. "Dad, don't go. I'll go."

Yang Wei was taken aback. "You're going?"

“I’m in London, which is close to Italy. And I’m the owner of ‘Pegasus’, so I’m more suitable to talk to clients than you are.”

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone. "Okay. You go. But can you manage alone?"

“I’m not a child,” Yang Chenglong said, then glanced at Lin Wanwan. “Besides, Wanwan can help me remotely.”

After hanging up the phone, Lin Wanwan looked at him. "Are you going to Italy?"

"I'll go tomorrow," Yang Chenglong said. "You stay in China and oversee production; we can't afford any more problems."

Lin Wanwan nodded, then reached out and pinched his cheek.

"Yang Chenglong, the way you're talking now sounds like a boss."

Yang Chenglong removed her hand, his face slightly flushed. "Stop fooling around."

Lin Wanwan laughed. "Your ears turn red when you're shy."

"You're incredibly observant."

"I'm your girlfriend, of course I need to observe you carefully."

The driver glanced at them in the rearview mirror, smiled, and shook his head.

The next day, Yang Chenglong flew to Milan.

The Italian client, Marco, was a man in his fifties with a large beard who used many gestures when speaking. He picked up Yang Chenglong at the airport and immediately extended his hand, shaking it firmly upon meeting him.

“Mr. Yang, I really like your scarves, but the quality issue this time is putting me in a difficult position.”

Yang Chenglong said in English, "Just call me Jack. I'll take a look at that shipment first."

Marco led him to the warehouse. It was a large warehouse on the outskirts of Milan, with shelves piled high with all sorts of goods, from scarves to handbags to shoes. Pegasus scarves were displayed separately in a separate area, stacked on trays.

Yang Chenglong opened a box and took out a scarf. It was dark red with a traditional Kazakh pattern. He touched it and found it was indeed stiffer than the previous two batches. He opened another box, touched a scarf, and found this one to be fine; it was very soft.

He felt them one by one. When he reached the fifteenth one, he stopped.

“Mr. Marco, about 15 percent of the scarves in this batch feel a bit stiff. The rest are fine.”

Marco nodded. "I also roughly estimated it, and it's about this ratio."

Yang Chenglong picked out the problematic scarves and piled them into a stack. Fifty scarves, not one missing.

“I’ll return these fifty and resend them. We’ll cover the shipping costs. As for the 150 that’s already in the warehouse, check them one by one and pick out the problematic ones. You can sell the rest first. If you find any more problems during the sales process, please contact me immediately.”

Marco looked at him and remained silent for a while.

"Mr. Yang, how old are you this year?"

"twenty."

Marco laughed. "When I was twenty, I was playing guitar in bars. You've already flown all the way from China to Italy to deal with quality issues."

He extended his hand. "Let's continue the cooperation."

Yang Chenglong grasped his hand.

On the flight from Milan back to London, Yang Chenglong kept thinking about one question.

The quality issues are not accidental. The weavers at Hongshan Ranch are all herders who used to weave for their own use, so the quality of their work didn't matter. Now, they have to mass-produce according to "Tianma" standards, so quality control must keep up.

He sent Lin Wanwan a message.

"Wanwan, we've set up a quality control point at Hongshan Ranch. Every scarf will be inspected before leaving the factory. Those that don't meet the standards won't be shipped."

The reply came quickly. "It's already underway. Your father had Lin Xiaoyu set up a quality inspection station at Hongshan Ranch, and every scarf has to go through her hands."

Looking at the words, Yang Chenglong felt a little more at ease.

He posted another message: "Wanwan, I'm thinking of setting up a 'Pegasus' showroom in Hangzhou. Not an online store, but a physical one. Customers can come and see the samples and touch the actual products. European buyers can also stop by Hangzhou when they come to China."

"Good idea. I'll look for a place."

"Don't look for anything too expensive. We don't have much money."

"Understood, Mr. Yang."

Yang Chenglong looked at the words "Boss Yang" and smiled. He put his phone away, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

The plane broke through the clouds, and sunlight streamed in through the porthole, illuminating his face. He remembered Yang Geyong's words: "You're doing something legitimate, not asking for favors."

He's doing something serious. That's enough.

In early September, Yang Chenglong returned to London and started school.

The courses in his second year were much harder than those in his first. Corporate finance, marketing, and operations management—each course required a significant amount of time. He attended classes during the day, dealt with "Tianma" matters at night, and had video conferences with Lin Wanwan on weekends, working like a spinning top. Ye Guigen visited him several times. Each time, he saw his desk piled high with textbooks, notes, and documents, and his computer had more than a dozen tabs open.

"Can you still hold on?" Ye Guigen asked.

"I can manage." Yang Chenglong rubbed his eyes. "I just miss Wanwan a little."

Ye Guigen laughed. "When did you become so mushy?"

“It’s not cheesy, I really miss her.” Yang Chenglong leaned back in his chair. “We spend too little time together. She’s in Hangzhou, and I’m in London. We’re 8,000 kilometers apart.”

Ye Guigen paused for a moment. "Have you considered having her come to London?"

“She thought about it. But she didn’t want to. She said that ‘Tianma’s’ roots are in China, and she wants to stay in China. Besides, her parents wouldn’t agree.”

"And what about after you graduate?"

Yang Chenglong thought for a moment. "I'll go back after graduation."

"Return to Junken City?"

"Let's go back to Hangzhou first. We'll work with Wanwan to make 'Tianma' bigger. Once it's big, we'll go back to Junken City."

Ye Guigen looked at him and nodded.

"Okay. I'll vote for you then."

Yang Chenglong smiled. "You've already cast your ball."

"Invest again. Increase the stake."

The two people gave each other a high five.

In late September, Lin Wanwan found an exhibition hall in Hangzhou.

On the first floor of the creative park, there used to be a coffee shop, but the owner quit and is subletting. It's 80 square meters, with floor-to-ceiling windows and great natural light. The rent isn't expensive, only 8,000 yuan a month.

Yang Chenglong was doing his homework in the library when he saw the photo. He zoomed in on the photo for a long time, then sent a message to Lin Wanwan.

"Rent it."

Lin Wanwan replied with an "OK" emoji, and then sent another message: "The renovation will cost money. About 50,000."

Yang Chenglong thought for a moment and then sent a message to Ye Guigen.

"Brother, can you lend me another 50,000? 'Tianma' wants to build an exhibition hall."

The reply came quickly. "No need to borrow. I'll invest another 50,000. The shareholding remains the same."

Yang Chenglong looked at the message, his eyes welling up with tears. He replied, "Thank you, brother."

Ye Guigen replied with a single word: "Get lost."

In mid-October, the "Tianma" exhibition hall in Hangzhou was completed.

The 80-square-meter space is divided into three areas. Product display area: Scarves, shawls, hats, and gloves are hung on the wall, each with a detailed information card that describes the source of the wool, the dye formula, the weaver's name, and their story.

Brand Culture Area: One wall displays a huge photo of Tianshan Ranch, and the other wall displays a plaque with the words "Tianma" written by Yang Geyong.

Negotiation area: a long table, a few chairs, a tea set, and a potted green ivy on the table.

Lin Wanwan took a picture and sent it to Yang Chenglong. Yang Chenglong looked at it for a long time, and then called Yang Geyong.

"Grandpa, the exhibition hall is finished. Your plaque is hanging on the wall, and it's very eye-catching."

Yang Geyong snorted on the other end of the phone. "Just be conspicuous. Don't embarrass me."

"No, it's true. All the clients who come in say it looks great."

"Customers? What customers?"

"They're from Italy, Germany, and France. When they come to China, they come to Hangzhou to see the samples."

Yang Geyong was silent for a while. "Jackie Chan, what you've done is better than what your father did."

Yang Chenglong was taken aback. "Grandpa, don't say that. My dad's platform is bigger than mine."

“It’s big, but not as interesting as yours,” Yang Geyong said. “Your dad’s platform helps people sell sheep. Yours helps people sell scarves. Sheep are gone once they’re eaten, but scarves can last for many years. When foreigners wear your scarves, they will know that there is a group of herders at the foot of the Tianshan Mountains who have been weaving scarves all their lives.”

Yang Chenglong held his phone, unsure of what to say.

"Alright," Yang Geyong said, "I'm hanging up. International calls are expensive."

beep - beep - beep -

Ye Yuze laughed and asked Yang Geyong sarcastically, "Do you want your money to just sit there and get moldy? You're not going to give it to your son or your grandson."

Yang Geyong smiled and said, "What I have is just money, while yours is a brand and an industry. So I have to carefully weigh the pros and cons between my son and grandson. Otherwise, if I end up with a spendthrift son, all my efforts in this life will be in vain."

Ye Yuze scoffed: "With Ye Feng and Ye Guigen around, how could anything happen to your descendants?"

Yang Geyong took a sip of milk tea: "Yuze, without you, I wouldn't be where I am today, but who can guarantee that our children and grandchildren will always be like us? So, I must start choosing and nurturing them."

Yang Chenglong put down his phone and looked out the window at the London night view.

He recalled what Grandpa Habuli had said: "Selling this scarf abroad is like telling the story of Tianshan to foreigners."

Perhaps this is the meaning of "Tianma" (Pegasus). It's not just about selling scarves; it's about telling stories. The stories of the Tianshan Mountains, the stories of the herdsmen, and the stories of the military reclamation city.

London got cold in November.

Yang Chenglong sat in his dormitory, a video call window on his computer screen. Lin Wanwan was in the exhibition hall in Hangzhou, with the "Pegasus" plaque hanging on the wall behind her.

“A French customer came today,” Lin Wanwan said. “He looked around the showroom for two hours and ordered three hundred scarves and one hundred shawls.”

"Three hundred?" Yang Chenglong's eyes widened.

"Yes. He said our products are very unique and he wants to open a 'Pegasus' specialty store in Paris."

"A specialty store?" Yang Chenglong's voice was a little unsteady.

"Not now. He said to see how the first batch sells first. If it's good, then we'll cooperate to open a franchise store."

Yang Chenglong took a deep breath.

"Wanwan, have we gone too far?"

Lin Wanwan laughed. "This is nothing. Isn't your goal 'all the ranches'? Red Mountain Ranch has only just begun, and Clear Water River hasn't even been touched yet."

Yang Chenglong scratched his head. "Yes. The road ahead is still long."

"The road ahead is long, but there's no rush," Lin Wanwan finished speaking for him.

They both laughed.

Outside the window, snow began to fall in London. It was fine and dense, glistening under the streetlights.

Yang Chenglong looked at Lin Wanwan on the screen, at the wall behind her, and at the crooked "Pegasus" plaque.

He thought of his grandfather, Yang Geyong. He thought of his father, Yang Wei. He thought of Uncle Habuli. He thought of the herders who had woven scarves all their lives on the Hongshan Pasture.

He did all this not just to make money. He did it to improve the lives of the herders, to let more people know the story of the Tianshan Mountains, and to let the name "Tianma" fly higher and farther.

(To be continued) (End of this chapter)