Great Power Reclamation

Yang Geyong hung up the phone, threw it on the sofa, and smiled so hard that his face was all wrinkled together, like a chrysanthemum dried by the sun.

He picked up the bowl of ice-cold milk tea, took a sip, and found it had gone bad. He spat it out and slammed the bowl down on the coffee table.

"What are you laughing at?"

Ye Yuze sat opposite him, holding a chess piece in his hand, but didn't place it.

“Jackie Chan just called me and said he doesn’t want me to transfer my shares to Lin Wanwan.”

Yang Geyong took a cigarette from the pack, lit it, took a deep drag, and exhaled the smoke through his nose.
He said it belonged to the Yang family, not his.

Ye Yuze placed the chess piece on the chessboard with a snap.

"He's right."

“I know he’s right.”

Yang Geyong leaned back on the sofa, legs crossed:
"I just wanted to see if he would stop me. If he didn't, I really wouldn't dare to give it to him."

Ye Yuze looked up at him. "So you were testing him?"

How will you know if you don't try?

Yang Geyong flicked his cigarette ash. "I know who I'm giving my things to and who I'm not giving them to. But I need to know if this kid knows that. If he can't even protect his own things, how is he going to protect the oil field?"

Ye Yuze remained silent for a moment, then pushed one of his pawns forward one step on the chessboard.

"You've spent your whole life testing people. Testing me, testing your son, testing your grandson. Aren't you tired of testing people like that?"

Yang Geyong didn't speak. He stared at the chessboard and moved the knight that was about to be captured away.

"It's tiring. But it's worth it. Because I'm not as smart as you, I can only use the stupid method."

He finally spoke, his voice lowering, "Jackie Chan's phone call today is more effective than a hundred fights he could have had in London. He knows what he can give and what he can't. This sense of proportion is more important than fists."

Ye Yuze picked up his teacup and took a sip. The tea had long since gone cold, but he didn't care.

"So what do you plan to do? Will you still give them the shares?"

Yang Geyong stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and thought for a moment.

"I'll give it to them. But not now. I'll give it to them as a wedding gift when they get married."

He paused for a moment, then said, "By then, it won't belong to the Yang family anymore; it will belong to the young couple. Jackie Chan has no say in this."

Ye Yuze looked at him and shook his head.

"You're a man with more tricks up your sleeve than a honeycomb briquette."

Yang Geyong burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the study and making the windows buzz.

"Old man, who are you calling a jerk?"

"I'll curse you." Ye Yuze pushed the king on the chessboard forward one step. "Checkmate."

Yang Geyong looked down and saw that his old marshal had been cornered again, with nowhere to go.

When will you—

"While you're thinking about your wedding gift."

Ye Yuze stood up, walked to the window, and drew back the curtains. The stars outside were shining brightly, densely packed, like scattered silver coins on a black cloth.

"Old Yang, don't think about anything else when you're playing chess. If you do, you'll lose."

Yang Geyong stared at the chessboard for a long time before pushing the pieces away.

"I'm done. Let's play one more game."

"I'm not coming. It's too late." Ye Yuze turned around. "You should go back. Wang Lina is waiting for you to have dinner."

Yang Geyong stood up, picked up his coat from the sofa, and draped it over his shoulders.

“Old Ye,” he stopped at the door, “do you think Jackie Chan will blame me later? Blame me for testing him with these things?”

Ye Yuze thought for a moment.

“No,” he said, “because he knows you’re doing it for his own good.”

Yang Geyong didn't say anything, opened the door, and went out.

The door closed. The study fell silent again. Ye Yuze walked back to the chessboard, picked up the scattered pieces one by one, and put them back in the box. Sixteen pieces for the red side, sixteen pieces for the black side, not one missing.

He closed the box and placed it on the top shelf of the bookshelf.

Then he went to his desk and picked up the photograph. In the photograph, Yang Chenglong and Ye Guigen were standing on a lawn in London, their eyes narrowed into slits with laughter.

“Two boys,” he muttered to himself, “the road ahead is long, take it slow.”

He put the photo back and turned off the light.

The study was plunged into darkness. The stars outside the window were still shining.

London, the next morning.

Yang Chenglong sat at his desk in the dormitory, with the "Pegasus" project plan spread out in front of him, but he couldn't concentrate on reading it.

My mind keeps replaying last night's conversation with Yang Geyong—

"You've really grown up."

The three words his grandfather said kept swirling in his mind all night.

He picked up his phone, intending to call Yang Geyong again, but after thinking about it, he put it down.

He sent Ye Guigen a message: "Where are you?"

"Warehouse. The renovation team is here."

Yang Chenglong was stunned for a moment before he remembered that Ye Guigen was talking about the old warehouse by the dock.

He glanced at the time; it was 10 a.m. He changed his clothes and went out.

When Ye Guigen arrived at the East Wharf by taxi, he was standing in front of the red brick building, talking to a middle-aged white man in work clothes.

The man was holding a roll of blueprints and gesturing as he spoke. Ye Guigen nodded occasionally and chimed in sometimes.

Seeing Yang Chenglong approach, Ye Guigen spoke a few words to the man, who nodded, took the blueprints, and went inside.

"Why are you here?" Ye Guigen asked.

"I couldn't concentrate on my book. I came out for a walk."

"Because of the shares?"

Yang Chenglong was taken aback. "How did you know?"

"You messaged me last night. Did you forget?"

Yang Chenglong took out his phone and scrolled through it. Sure enough, he had sent Ye Guigen a message around 1 a.m. last night—

“My grandfather wanted to transfer his shares to Wanwan, but I stopped him.” He had no recollection of sending this message.

"My mind wasn't clear last night."

Are you clear-headed now?

Yang Chenglong thought for a moment. "I understand. I did the right thing."

Ye Guigen looked at him and nodded. "Then don't think about it anymore. Let's go in and take a look."

The two men entered the warehouse. Inside, it was bustling with activity; seven or eight workers were cleaning the walls, scraping off the peeling old paint, and sanding the grout lines.

Dust filled the air, making people cough. Ye Guigen took two face masks out of his pocket and handed one to Yang Chenglong.

"You've prepared quite thoroughly." Yang Chenglong put on a mask.

"If you don't wear a mask at a renovation site, your lungs will be ruined in two days."

The two people walked through the lobby on the first floor and went up the stairs. The stairs were made of iron and made a clattering sound when they were stepped on.

The second floor is smaller than the first floor, but the ceiling is still three or four meters high. There are two small windows on the wall facing the river, offering a view of the Thames.

"This is my office."

Ye Guigen stood in the middle of the second floor, arms outstretched.

"Put a bookshelf over there, and a desk over here. Put a sofa by the window for discussing business."

"You've even thought of the furniture?"

"Not yet. But I have a general idea."

Yang Chenglong walked to the window and looked at the Thames River outside. The river water was grayish and flowing slowly, with several white water birds circling low above the surface.

The residential buildings on the opposite bank gleamed in the sunlight, row upon row, neat and orderly.

“In the end,” he said, “tell me, am I being too petty?”

"What do you mean by stingy?"

"Regarding the shares. My grandfather wanted to give them to Wanwan, but I stopped him. If Wanwan finds out, will she think I don't love her enough?"

Ye Guigen thought for a moment and walked to his side.

“No,” he said, “because you weren’t stopping Wanwan, you were stopping your grandfather. These are two different things.”

Yang Chenglong looked at him.

“You stopped your grandfather because you felt the shares belonged to the Yang family, not you. You have no right to decide who gets them.”

"This idea shows that you have a sense of propriety. If Wanwan can't even understand this, she doesn't deserve to be your fiancée."

Yang Chenglong remained silent for a while.

"When did you become a relationship expert?"

“From the time you started dating.” Ye Guigen patted his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go downstairs and take a look. They’re going to install underfloor heating on the first floor, and the workers asked me what materials I wanted, but I don’t know anything about it.”

"You're letting me choose?"

“Your dad spent his whole life building roads, and your grandpa spent his whole life digging oil wells. You should know more about the ground than I do.”

Yang Chenglong was amused by his logic and followed him downstairs. The foreman came over with two samples: one was a cement-colored polished tile, and the other was a light gray wood-grain floor.

“Mr. Ye, the prices of these two types are about the same. Polished tiles are durable and easy to clean. Wood-grain flooring is comfortable to walk on, but it is susceptible to water damage.”

Yang Chenglong squatted down and touched the two samples. Then he stood up and walked a few steps on the cement ground.

"Lay wood-grain flooring."

He said, "This isn't a factory, it's an office. People who come here are here to sit and talk, not to stand and work. Comfort is more important than durability."

The foreman glanced at Ye Guigen. Ye Guigen nodded.

"Listen to him."

The foreman took the samples and left. Ye Guigen looked at Yang Chenglong, a slight smile on his lips.

"When did you learn to pick out flooring?"

“I learned it in Hangzhou,” Yang Chenglong said. “I followed the showroom’s renovation for three days. What kind of flooring to lay, what kind of paint to use, what kind of lights to install—it’s all a science.”

"You're a jack-of-all-trades now."

"I'm not a genius. I was forced into it."

The two stood in the empty warehouse, with exposed steel pipes and wooden beams overhead and dusty cement floor beneath their feet.

Sunlight streamed in through the arched window, making the dust particles in the air appear like golden snowflakes.

“In the end,” Yang Chenglong suddenly said, “what do you think this place will be like in ten years?”

Ye Guigen thought about it.

"Ten years from now, this place may not be big enough."

"What should I do?"

"Move. Move to a bigger place."

Yang Chenglong looked at him and smiled.

"You never think about the small things."

"If you think too little, you won't be able to achieve anything."

Ye Guigen turned around and looked at the busy workers:
"My grandfather once said that the most important thing in a person's life is not how much money they make, but how much they do. And how much they do is not measured by how big the things are, but by how many people's things they do for others."

"Do you remember every single thing your grandfather said?"

"I don't remember. But I do remember this sentence."

Neither of them spoke. The workers were busy; the sounds of hammers striking, chainsaws cutting, footsteps, and voices mingled together, noisy yet full of life.

Yang Chenglong's phone vibrated. It was Lin Wanwan.

"What are you doing?"

"At Ye Guigen's construction site, he rented a warehouse and is renovating it."

"Warehouse? What's it used for?"

"His office. His fund is moving there."

The other person sent an envious emoji. "That's great. When will we get a decent office?"

“Soon,” Yang Chenglong typed. “Next year, once the Tmall store opens, we’ll rent a big one in Hangzhou.”

"You said it. You can't go back on your word."

"No regrets."

He put his phone away and looked at Ye Guigen.

"Wanwan said she envies you having an office."

“Tell her that her office is bigger than mine. It’s 80 square meters in Hangzhou, while mine is only 60.”

"She said yours is worth more in London than hers."

Ye Guigen smiled. "She's a businesswoman; she's very shrewd."

"She doesn't know how to calculate things clearly; she's just terrified of being poor."

Yang Chenglong lowered his voice, "She's been in Paris for three years, enduring all sorts of hardships. Now she has to keep track of every single penny."

Ye Guigen looked at him without saying a word.

"That's why I need to make 'Tianma' bigger as soon as possible," Yang Chenglong said. "Not for myself, but for her. She's with me, and I can't let her suffer anymore."

Ye Guigen patted him on the shoulder.

You will do it.

"how do you know?"

"Because you're impulsive," Ye Guigen said. "Impulsive people act quickly. People who act quickly are more likely to succeed."

Yang Chenglong paused for a moment, then laughed.

Are you praising me or insulting me?

"I'm praising you."

The two men stepped out of the warehouse and stood in the doorway. The wind from the Thames carried the smells of water and diesel fuel. But the sun on the opposite bank was shining brightly, warming their faces.

"Ultimately, do you think Bakhtiar returned to Almaty?"

“He’s back.” Ye Guigen took out his phone from his pocket and showed a message: “Uncle Scar found out yesterday. He flew back, with a cast on his nose.”

Did his grandfather break his leg?

No. But his credit card was frozen.

Yang Chenglong laughed. "That's even worse than breaking a leg."

"Yes. Akkorei, that man, knows how to deal with his own grandson."

The two stood by the river, looking at the lights on the opposite bank. As darkness fell, the streetlights began to illuminate the scene, one by one, like stars scattered on the ground.

Jackie Chan.

"Ah."

“Your grandfather called my grandfather last night.”

Yang Chenglong turned his head. "What did you say?"

"It means you've grown up."

Yang Chenglong was stunned for a moment.

"Grandpa said I've grown up?"

"Yes. The exact words were—'Jackie Chan, that kid, acted like a man today.'"

Yang Chenglong looked down at his shoes. The shoes were covered in dust, from stepping in the warehouse earlier.

“My grandfather rarely praised people.” His voice was a little hoarse.

"I know."

"The last time he praised me was when I got into UCL."

Ye Guigen didn't say anything, he just stood next to him and looked at the river.

The two remained silent for a long time. The wind blew, cold, but standing together, they felt less cold.

“Let’s go back,” Yang Chenglong said, raising his head. “I still need to review the project proposal.”

"Can you even look at it?"

"You have to read it even if you can't concentrate."

The two turned and walked back. The car was still parked on the side of the road. Ye Guigen opened the car door, and Yang Chenglong got in.

The car started and drove out of the dock, heading towards the dormitory.

Yang Chenglong leaned back in his seat with his eyes closed.

"Returning to one's roots".

"Ah."

"Do you think my grandfather really thinks I've grown up?"

"real."

"how do you know?"

"Because he has never praised you," Ye Guigen said. "When someone who never praises you does, the first time they do, it's the truth."

Yang Chenglong didn't say anything. But the corner of his mouth curled up slightly.

The car wound its way through the streets of London. Streetlights swept by one by one, their orange glow filtering through the windows and casting flickering light on Yang Chenglong's face.

He opened his eyes and looked at the city outside the window.

London is big, but he's not afraid.

Because he knew that someone was waiting for him 8,000 kilometers away.

That person's name is Lin Wanwan.

There was another person in an old house in the military reclamation city, smoking, drinking milk tea, and playing chess with his old buddies.

That person said he had grown up.

He must live up to that statement.

(To be continued) (End of this chapter)