Great Power Reclamation

Berlin, 9:40 a.m.

Yang Chenglong stood in the lobby of an office building next to the convention center, his palms sweating profusely.

He clenched his fist, then released it, repeating this several times, but sweat still poured out.

He was wearing a dark blue suit today, which Ye Guigen lent him—his own suit had been packed in his suitcase the whole way and was wrinkled like a rag.

The sleeves of his suit were a bit too short, so he rolled them up twice, revealing the white shirt underneath.

The tie was sent by Lin Wanwan; it was dark red, and she said the color made her look more energetic.

Ye Guigen stood beside him, wearing a dark gray cashmere coat over a black turtleneck sweater.

He seemed much more composed than Yang Chenglong, but Yang Chenglong noticed that his fingers were tapping lightly on the seam of his trousers—a habit Ye Guigen had when he was nervous.

"What time is it?" Yang Chenglong asked.

"9:42. Eighteen minutes to go." Ye Guigen glanced at his watch. "Are you nervous?"

"I'm not nervous."

Your hands are shaking.

Yang Chenglong put his hands in his pockets and clenched them tightly.

Stop pretending.

Ye Guigen said, “I’m nervous too. But being nervous won’t help. Remember, today we’re not going to beg her, we’re going to help her.”

“Claudia needs Pegasus’ products to prove her judgment. Her boss is suppressing her, and she needs an external force to help her stand firm. You are that force.”

Yang Chenglong took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled.

"Say it again. I'll write it down."

Ye Guigen looked at him and couldn't help but smile.

"You, do you need to memorize lines before negotiations?"

"I'm not memorizing lines, I'm just afraid that I might say something wrong in the heat of the moment."

"It's okay to say the wrong thing."

Ye Guigen patted him on the shoulder, “You only need to remember one thing—you are Yang Chenglong. You are Yang Geyong’s grandson. You are the founder of ‘Tianma’. You are not here to beg for help.”

Yang Chenglong silently repeated these words three times in his heart: You are Yang Chenglong, you are not here to beg for help.

The elevator doors opened. The two people stepped inside, and Ye Guigen pressed the button for the fifteenth floor.

As the elevator ascended, Yang Chenglong felt his heart racing, like a train approaching from afar, rumbling closer and closer.

The elevator reached the fifteenth floor. The doors opened, revealing a spacious reception area with a gray carpet, white walls, and rows of product photos hanging on the walls.

Scarves, shawls, gloves, and hats are all from this e-commerce platform's own brand.

A blonde young woman was sitting at the front desk. When she saw them come in, she stood up and said something in German.

“We are here to see Ms. Claudia,” Ye Guigen said in English. “We have an appointment.”

The blonde woman glanced down at her computer, then looked up with a standard professional smile.

"Ms. Claudia is waiting for you. This way, please."

She led them through a corridor lined with offices on both sides, through which they could see people working busily.

Some people were making phone calls, some were typing on keyboards, and some were walking around with coffee in their hands.

Yang Chenglong tried his best to appear less nervous, but his eyes darted around unconsciously, like an animal entering unfamiliar territory.

At the end of the corridor was a wooden door with a brass plaque that read "Claudia Bergmann, Head of Procurement".

The blonde woman knocked on the door, and a female voice came from inside: "Herein."

The door opened.

The office wasn't large, but it was comfortably furnished. There was a large oak desk with a computer, a stack of files, a pen holder, and a desk lamp on it.

Against the wall is a row of bookshelves, filled with samples of various textiles and industry magazines.

A potted green ivy sits on the windowsill, growing very well, its vines hanging down like a green curtain.

Claudia stood up from behind her desk. She was in her forties, with blonde hair pulled back in a low bun, wearing a dark blue wool dress and a light gray scarf around her neck—

Yang Chenglong recognized it at a glance; it was a "Pegasus" scarf. It was a sample that Lin Wanwan had given her at last year's Berlin Textile Fair.

"Mr. Yang?"

She extended her hand, speaking in English with perfect pronunciation and a slight German accent:

“I am Claudia Bergman.”

"Yang Chenglong".

He took her hand. Her hand was warm and the pressure was just right; it didn't seem like she was rejecting him.

"This is Ye Guigen, my friend." Yang Chenglong stepped aside to let him pass.

Claudia shook hands with Ye Guigen. Her gaze swept back and forth between the two men before she pointed to the two chairs in front of the desk.

"Have a seat. Coffee or tea?"

"Tea. Thank you," Yang Chenglong said.

"Coffee, no sugar," Ye Guigen said.

Claudia pressed a button on the table and spoke a sentence in German into the microphone.

Less than a minute later, a young female assistant came in carrying a tray with two cups of tea, a cup of coffee, and a plate of cookies on it.

Claudia picked up her coffee cup, took a sip, and put it down.

Her movements were slow, as if she was deliberately stalling for time, or as if she was waiting for the other person to speak first.

Yang Chenglong didn't speak. Ye Guigen didn't speak either. The two of them just sat there, looking at Claudia.

The office was silent for a few seconds. Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the oak table and the potted green ivy.

Claudia spoke first. "Mr. Yang, have you received your termination letter?"

"I received it." Yang Chenglong's voice was more steady than he had expected. "But I'm not here to accept the termination of the contract. I'm here to ask for the reason."

Claudia leaned back in her chair, her hands clasped on the table.

"The reason is written in the letter: the quality does not meet EU standards."

“Our first two batches of scarves passed EU customs inspection. The third batch was detained because of an anonymous tip. This is not a quality issue; someone is sabotaging us.”

Claudia looked at him, a hint of surprise in her eyes. She probably hadn't expected this incredibly young man to be so direct.

“Even if someone is sabotaging us,” she said, “it’s a fact that you don’t have EU textile safety certification. Without certification, our platform cannot sell.”

"Then let's get it certified."

Yang Chenglong said, "Tell me what materials you need and how long it will take. I'll take care of it."

Claudia shook her head. "The certification process takes three to six months. Our Christmas season has already started, we can't wait that long."

"Then let's work on the other seasons first."

Yang Chenglong leaned forward. "If we can't make it for Christmas, we'll do it for spring. If we can't make it for spring, we'll do it for autumn."

“We won’t ship any goods until the certification is obtained. After the certification is obtained, you can decide whether to resume cooperation. I won’t rush you, but don’t close the door completely.”

Claudia was silent for a moment, then tapped her fingers lightly twice on the table.

"Mr. Yang, how old are you?"

"twenty one."

“Twenty-one years old,” Claudia said. “The way you talk doesn’t sound like you’re twenty-one.”

Yang Chenglong didn't know whether the words were a compliment or an insult, but he decided to take them as a compliment.

“My grandfather taught me that. He said, when you talk to people, don’t beat around the bush. If you keep going in circles, in the end you won’t even know what you want.”

Claudia's lips curled up slightly. It was her first smile since she entered the room, a faint one, but Yang Chenglong caught it.

What does your grandfather do?

"I've done many things before. Now I raise horses."

"Raising horses?"

"The Akhal-Teke horse. In the northern frontier."

Claudia nodded, her gaze falling on the scarf around her neck.

“This scarf was a sample you gave me last year. I’ve been wearing it ever since. Because it’s really nice.”

Her voice lowered, “But being good isn’t enough. In this industry, being good is just an entry ticket. To stay, you need a lot more—certification, channels, relationships, and capital.”

She paused.

“Mr. Yang, I won’t lie to you. Terminating the contract with Tianma was not my decision. It was my boss’s decision. He is the CEO of the platform, and he has shareholders putting pressure on him. I objected, but it was no use.”

The office was silent for a few seconds. Yang Chenglong could hear his own heartbeat.

“Ms. Claudia,” Ye Guigen, who had been silent until now, spoke up:

"If we can resolve the shareholders' issues, can you resume cooperation?"

Claudia turned to look at him. "You? Resolving shareholder issues? Do you even know who the platform's shareholders are?"

“I know. The Lin family, from Singapore.”

Claudia's expression changed. She looked Ye Guigen over again—

The young man, who had barely spoken since entering, was wearing a dark gray overcoat and a black turtleneck sweater, and looked like Yang Chenglong's entourage.

But when he said the words "Lin family," his tone was so calm that it sounded like he was stating a fact, not guessing.

“How did you know?” Claudia asked.

Ye Guigen took a folded piece of paper out of his coat pocket, unfolded it, and placed it on the table.

It was a shareholding structure diagram, starting from the holding company at the top, layer by layer down, all the way to this e-commerce platform.

The company names, shareholding ratios, and legal representatives for each floor are clearly listed.

Claudia looked down for a few seconds, then looked up. Her expression was no longer one of surprise, but of shock.

Who did this?

“I made it,” Ye Guigen said. “It took three days.”

"What do you do?"

"I work in investment."

Ye Guigen put the paper away, folded it again, and put it back in his pocket.

“Ms. Claudia, if I told you that the Lin family will withdraw all their investment in this platform by March next year—would you believe me?”

Claudia stared at him without saying a word.

"You don't believe me."

Ye Guigen spoke for her, "It's alright. You'll see next March. By then, the shareholders will have changed, and your boss's pressure will be gone. Resuming the cooperation with 'Tianma' will just be a business decision, and you won't need to worry about anyone else's opinion anymore."

The office fell silent again. This time, the silence lasted even longer. Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the potted green ivy, making its leaves shine a vibrant green.

Claudia picked up her coffee cup, found it was cold, and put it down again.

"Mr. Ye, who exactly are you?"

Ye Guigen took a business card out of his pocket and handed it over with both hands. The business card was white, very simple, with only one line of text and his name.

"Founder of Cornerstone & Wings Impact Investment Fund, Ye Guigen".

Claudia stared at the business card in silence for a long time.

“You two young people,” she finally spoke, her voice carrying an indescribable quality, like a sigh or a lament:
How many things do you still have that I don't know about?

Yang Chenglong and Ye Guigen exchanged a glance.

"Not many," Yang Chenglong said. "Just these."

Claudia shook her head, stood up, and walked to the window.

Outside the window was the Berlin sky, gray and gloomy, but a ray of sunlight peeked through a gap in the clouds, shining brightly on a distant clock tower.

“Mr. Yang,” she said, her back to them, “can I ask you a question?”

"Go ahead and ask."

"Why did you do this? Selling scarves. From Xinjiang, China, to Europe. All this trouble, all this trouble. Why?"

Yang Chenglong thought for a moment.

"Because of those herders."

He said, "They've knitted scarves their whole lives, and each one only sells for a few dozen yuan. I help them sell them in Europe, where each one can sell for over a thousand yuan. The extra money isn't mine; it's theirs."

“With the money, they can pay for their children’s tuition, get medical treatment for the elderly, and repair their dilapidated yurts.”

He paused.

"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."

Claudia turned to look at him. Her eyes were a little red, but she quickly recovered.

"Your grandfather was a philosopher."

“No. He’s a road builder,” Yang Chenglong said. “But the roads he builds are thicker than a philosopher’s book.”

Claudia smiled. This time it was a genuine smile, not a professional or social smile, but an involuntary smile that came from being moved by something.

She walked back to her desk, sat down, took a document from the drawer, and pushed it in front of Yang Chenglong.

"This is our standard procurement contract. Article 11 on page 3 is the termination clause. I crossed it out. Article 20 on page 15 is the exclusive agency clause. I crossed that out as well."

Yang Chenglong looked down at the contract. Next to the crossed-out clauses were Claudia's signature and the date.

"I won't sign an exclusive contract with you."

Claudia said, "Because exclusivity isn't good for you. You should find several channels and not put all your eggs in one basket."

“But I will continue to buy your scarves. Three thousand every year, at the same price. As for the certification, I'll help you contact a testing agency in Germany, and the platform will cover half the cost.” “Next March, after the shareholder issues are resolved, we can discuss expanding our cooperation.”

Yang Chenglong held the contract, his fingers trembling. Not from anger, but from excitement.

“Ms. Claudia,” his voice was a little hoarse, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Claudia extended her hand. “Thank yourself. You came, you said you would, and you showed me what kind of person you are.”

Yang Chenglong took her hand. This time, his hand did not tremble.

Singapore, the same afternoon.

When Ye Yuze and Yang Geyong stepped out of Changi Airport, a wave of heat hit them.

December in London is winter, December in the military settlement is winter, but December in Singapore is summer.

The temperature was over 30 degrees Celsius, and the humidity was so high it felt like a steam room. The air was filled with a unique tropical scent—floral fragrance, fruity aroma, and the salty smell of the sea breeze.

Ye Yuze was wearing a light gray linen suit, without a tie, and the top button of his shirt was undone.

He didn't look like someone in his sixties; he stood up straight and walked at a leisurely pace, as if he were on vacation.

Yang Geyong followed behind him, wearing a dark blue polo shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, revealing his two tanned, dark red forearms.

He was carrying a bulging black briefcase, its contents unknown.

A black Mercedes-Benz S-Class sedan was parked at the airport entrance. A driver in a white uniform stood next to the car door, holding a sign that read:

"Mr. Ye Yuze".

"The car that Lao Liu sent?" Yang Geyong asked.

"No. I called it myself." Ye Yuze opened the car door and got in.

Yang Geyong hesitated for a moment, then crawled inside as well.

The car drove out of the airport and onto the highway. The scenery outside the window changed from the palm trees at the airport to the viaduct, and from the viaduct to the skyscrapers.

In downtown Singapore, skyscrapers stand tall, their glass curtain walls gleaming in the sunlight, almost blinding.

"Old Ye, why don't you ride in Boss Liu's car?"

"If I ride in his car, it means I'm going to see him. If I don't ride in his car, it means he's coming to see me."

Ye Yuze leaned back in his seat, his eyes closed. "The difference is huge."

Yang Geyong thought for a moment and nodded.

The car stopped in front of an office building. The building was in Marina Bay, fifty-eight stories high, with a glass curtain wall and a rooftop garden.

The Liu Group's Asia-Pacific headquarters is located in this building.

Ye Yuze got out of the car, straightened his collar, and walked into the lobby. Yang Geyong followed behind, carrying the black briefcase.

The receptionist was a young woman in a dark blue uniform. Seeing them enter, she stood up and asked in standard Mandarin:
"Who are you two looking for?"

“Boss Liu,” Ye Yuze said.

Do you have an appointment?

"No."

The receptionist's expression changed slightly. "I'm sorry, without an appointment—"

"Call him and tell him."

Ye Yuze interrupted her, "Ye Yuze is downstairs. Whether he comes down or not is his business."

The receptionist hesitated for a moment, then picked up the phone, dialed a number, and whispered a few words.

After hanging up the phone, her expression changed; she became much more polite, even a little nervous.

"Chairman Liu, please come upstairs. Top floor, private elevator."

She led them to a separate elevator, swiped the card, and pressed the button for the top floor.

The elevator doors closed and it began to ascend. The elevator was quiet, with only the hum of its movement.

杨革勇看着电梯里不断跳动的楼层数字，从1到10，从10到20，从20到30。

"Old Ye, do you think Boss Liu will come down?"

"Didn't he already let us go up?"

"That means going up, not coming down."

Ye Yuze looked at him and smiled.

"You've spent your whole life caring about these things. Does it really matter who's in charge or who's out?"

“It’s important,” Yang Geyong said. “You stand, I stand. You sit, I sit. You lie down, I lie down. But you can’t let anyone ride on your head.”

Ye Yuze remained silent.

The elevator reached the top floor. The doors opened, revealing a spacious reception area with a dark gray carpet on the floor and several oil paintings on the walls that looked like originals.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, you can see a panoramic view of the entire Marina Bay – the Marina Bay Sands Hotel, the Ferris wheel, and Gardens by the Bay are all within sight.

A Chinese man in his fifties stood in the middle of the reception area, wearing a white shirt, dark trousers, and his hair was neatly combed.

He had a smile on his face, but there was a hint of nervousness in that smile, as if he were waiting for a big test.

He is Boss Liu, Liu Zixuan's father, the Palm Oil King of Southeast Asia, and a prominent figure on the Forbes list.

But in front of Ye Yuze, he was just an old friend to whom he owed a favor.

"Brother Ye." Boss Liu walked over quickly and extended his hand. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I could have picked you up from the airport."

Ye Yuze squeezed his hand, then let go.

"I've come for tea."

Mr. Liu's smile froze for a moment, but he quickly recovered.

"Drinking tea is good. I have some top-quality Da Hong Pao tea here, air-freighted from Wuyi Mountain."

"No need." Ye Yuze took an envelope out of his pocket and placed it on the coffee table in the reception area. "Let me show you something first."

Mr. Liu looked at the envelope but did not reach for it.

"what?"

"Open it and take a look."

Mr. Liu hesitated for a moment, then picked up the envelope and opened it. Inside was a stack of photos. He flipped through them one by one, his expression growing increasingly grim.

The photos show his son, Liu Zixuan, with his arm around Bachtiar's shoulder in a London bar, clinking glasses with Wang Jianguo in a Milan restaurant, and shaking hands with a middle-aged white man in a Berlin hotel lobby—that white man is the CEO of a German e-commerce platform.

Mr. Liu put the photo back in the envelope and placed it on the coffee table.

"Brother Ye, I've already taught Zixuan a lesson about what happened. Milan's company has also been deregistered."

"Cancelled?" Ye Yuze laughed. "Your son cancelled the company in Milan, but his presence in Berlin remains."

“Through his connections with the Lin family, he pressured German e-commerce platforms to terminate their contracts with Yang Chenglong’s Tianma.”

Mr. Liu's face turned pale.

"Brother Ye, I didn't know about these things—"

"You do not know?"

Ye Yuze's voice wasn't loud, but every word was like a nail:
"You don't know how much money your son has cost you? You don't know he spends 30,000 pounds a night in a London pub? You don't know about his collaboration with the Lin family? Mr. Liu, are you playing dumb with me, or are you really confused?"

The reception area was quiet for a few seconds. Sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the dark gray carpet and the stack of photos.

Mr. Liu kept his head down and didn't say anything.

Yang Geyong stood to the side, not saying a word. He stood there, carrying his black briefcase, like a tower.

His face was expressionless, but his eyes—eyes that had watched the wind and sand of the Gobi Desert for decades—were fixed on Boss Liu.

“Old Liu,” Ye Yuze’s voice lowered, “we’ve known each other for thirty years. You owed me a favor, and you repaid it once. But that one time wasn’t enough.”

Boss Liu looked up at Ye Yuze.

"Brother Ye, tell me. How do you want me to repay you?"

Ye Yuze took another piece of paper out of his pocket, folded it into quarters, and unfolded it. It was an agreement.

"First, the Liu Group has completely withdrawn its investment in the German e-commerce platform. The shares have been transferred to the Warrior Group."

Second, Liu Zixuan's credit card will be suspended starting today.

Third, you should personally go to Hangzhou and apologize to Lin Wanwan.

Mr. Liu's hands trembled slightly as he looked at the agreement.

"Brother Ye, I can do the first one. I can do the second one too. But the third one—go to Hangzhou and apologize to a young girl—"

"She's not a little girl."

Ye Yuze interrupted him, "She is Yang Chenglong's fiancée. You know who Yang Chenglong is. Yang Chenglong is Yang Geyong's grandson. You also know who Yang Geyong is."

Boss Liu glanced at Yang Geyong. Yang Geyong stood there, like a mountain, motionless.

"She was all alone in Hangzhou, carrying the Heavenly Horse and the livelihoods of hundreds of herdsmen."

Ye Yuze continued, "Your son sent people to Hangzhou to threaten her. This isn't a business war; it's despicable."

Mr. Liu's face turned red.

"Brother Ye, I—"

"are you going?"

Mr. Liu remained silent for a long time. The sunlight outside the window slowly moved from one end of the coffee table to the other.

"I go."

Ye Yuze pushed the agreement in front of him.

"Signed."

Mr. Liu picked up the pen and signed his name. He wrote slowly, stroke by stroke, as if he were signing a contract of servitude.

After signing, he put down the pen and looked up.

"Brother Ye, is this the end of it?"

Ye Yuze folded the agreement and put it back in his pocket.

“That’s enough.” He stood up. “But there’s one condition—you’d better take care of your son. If it happens again, I won’t come looking for you.”

Who are you looking for?

"Come find him."

Mr. Liu's face was as white as paper.

Ye Yuze turned and left. Yang Geyong followed behind him.

The two people stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed.

In the elevator, Yang Geyong finally spoke.

"Old Ye, what did you mean when you said 'come to find him'?"

Ye Yuze looked at him and smiled.

"Just to scare him."

Yang Geyong paused for a moment, then burst into laughter. The laughter echoed in the elevator, making the walls vibrate.

“You,” he laughed so hard he could hardly breathe, “you can scare people like this.”

Ye Yuze smiled too.

The elevator reached the first floor, and the doors opened. The two people stepped out, and sunlight streamed in.

"Old Ye, do you think Boss Liu will go to Hangzhou?"

"meeting."

Are you so sure?

Ye Yuze stood at the entrance of the office building, looking at the bay in the distance.

"Because he's afraid. He's not afraid of me. He's afraid of his son. He's afraid that if his son keeps causing trouble, in the end, he'll be finished too."

Yang Geyong nodded.

"Let's go," Ye Yuze said. "We're going back. There's still something to do in London."

The two people got into the car. The car drove out of Marina Bay and headed towards the airport.

Yang Geyong took out two cans of beer from his black briefcase and handed one to Ye Yuze.

"Is this all you have in your briefcase?"

"Otherwise what? What did you think I was carrying? Bricks?"

Ye Yuze took the beer, pulled the tab, and took a sip. The icy beer slid down his throat, making him squint his eyes in pleasure.

"Old Yang."

"Ah."

"You mean, Gui Gen and Jackie Chan are in Berlin now?"

"In Berlin. To see that German woman."

Ye Yuze looked at the scenery outside the car window and remained silent for a while.

"They've grown up."

Yang Geyong didn't say anything. He opened the beer can and took a big gulp.

The car continued driving. The sky in Singapore was very blue, and the clouds were very white.

But Ye Yuze knew that eight thousand kilometers away, the sky over Berlin was gray.

It's okay if it's gray. Someone has to walk the road.

(To be continued) (End of this chapter)