Great Power Reclamation

The news of the successful test run of the Tianshan engine was like a pebble thrown into a lake, its ripples spreading outwards in concentric circles.

But beneath the surface, undercurrents were stirring. Not everyone was applauding. Some people, while clapping, had their eyes elsewhere;

Some people didn't applaud at all, sitting in the shadows, pondering what this meant for them.

Three days after Ye Yuze donated his technology, an internal briefing from Beijing was delivered to the appropriate place.

The briefing's title was very official—"Report on the Free Donation of Aero Engine Technology by Ye Yuze, Founder of Warrior Group"—but the content inside was not so official.

The report devoted three pages to describing in detail the technical parameters and international impact of the "Tianshan" engine, and then two pages to analyzing "Ye Yuze's political motives for this move".

The report's author clearly put a lot of thought into it. Instead of directly questioning Ye Yuze's motives, he raised several "concerning questions" in a seemingly objective tone:
First, is Ye Yuze's political stance, as the father of Ye Feng, a U.S. citizen, entirely reliable?
Second, given that Warrior Group holds a monopoly in the domestic market, is this donation intended to secure greater policy support?

Third, Ye Yuze's public declaration that the technology "belongs to China" is a way of indirectly pressuring the government to provide him with more resources.
This briefing has a small readership, but each reader is crucial.

On one of the people's desks, several paragraphs of the briefing were circled in red pen. The red pen handwriting was very professional, and next to the circled paragraphs were two words written: "Check again."

This directive triggered a subtle chain reaction within the system.

It wasn't a clear instruction, nor was it a clear denial. It was like a gray fog, floating above those who needed to choose sides, leaving them unsure whether to go left or right.

In Ye Yuze's study in Junken City, Yang Geyong slammed the now-cold milk tea down on the coffee table with a thud.

"Old Ye, have you heard?" His voice was so loud that the study windows were buzzing.

Ye Yuze sat opposite him, holding a chess piece in his hand, not placing it down. "I've heard about it."

"Someone is plotting against you."

Yang Geyong took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out, and lit it.

"I had someone investigate that briefing. It was written by a researcher within the National Development and Reform Commission. I don't know who's behind it. But to get it to that level, it's not something an ordinary person can do."

Ye Yuze placed the chess piece down with a snap. "So what if they found out? Go and beat them up?"

“Hit him? I won’t hit him. I’ll have someone investigate his background. Find out who he’s paid and who he’s speaking for. Once I find out, I’ll post it online and he’ll be in big trouble.”

Ye Yuze raised his head and looked at Yang Geyong. His eyes were calm, as calm as a stagnant pool.

"Old Yang, don't investigate."

"why?"

"Because it's useless to investigate. He's not a person. He's a shadow. Behind every shadow is another shadow. You find one, and there are ten more behind it. You can't investigate them all."

Yang Geyong stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray; a spark flew out, and it was extinguished.

"Then what do we do? Just let it go like this?"

Ye Yuze leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling.

"Forget it. But there's no need to rush. Let them talk. They can't control what they say. But we can do what we want. Once we've accomplished our goal, no one will listen to what they have to say."

Yang Geyong looked at him and remained silent for a long time. "You've spent your whole life enduring."

"It's not about enduring. It's about waiting."

"Wait for what?"

"Wait until they slip up on their own."

Yang Geyong picked up the bowl of cold milk tea and took a sip. It was cold and astringent, but it still had the flavor of tea.

"Okay. I'll wait. But I can't wait too long. You know my temper."

Ye Yuze smiled. "I know. So you're only alive now because I've kept you alive."

Yang Geyong glared at him, but did not refute him.

London, East End docks, the same afternoon.

Yang Chenglong sat in the office of "Foundation and Wings" with a pile of documents spread out in front of him, but his eyes were fixed on his phone screen.

Lin Wanwan sent a message with only four words: "Tianma is in trouble."

He suddenly stood up, the chair tipped backward and crashed to the floor with a loud thud.

Hearing the noise, Ye Guigen downstairs quickly ran up, pushed open the door, and saw Yang Chenglong standing by the window, holding a mobile phone in his hand, his face ashen.

"what happened?"

"Tianma's showroom in Hangzhou has been reported."

Yang Chenglong's voice was very low, so low it sounded like it was just rolling in his throat:
They said we were selling substandard products, lacking trademark registration, quality inspection reports, and tax registration.

Ye Guigen was taken aback. "Didn't you register a trademark? Tianma Trading Co., Ltd., it was registered last year."

"The trademark has been registered. But the quality inspection report and tax registration are still being processed, Wanwan said. The procedures in Hangzhou are slow, and she can't handle them all by herself."

Yang Chenglong clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white. "The person who reported this wasn't an ordinary customer. They were a competitor. Wanwan checked the report number; it was a batch report. Five stores were reported simultaneously, all of them making handmade scarves."

Ye Guigen walked to his side and leaned against the windowsill. "Liu Zixuan?"

"No. Liu Zixuan can barely afford the rent right now, he doesn't have the energy for that."

Who is that?

Yang Chenglong turned around and looked at him. "Wang Jianguo."

Ye Guigen frowned slightly. "Wang Jianguo? Isn't he in Hong Kong?"

"His body is in Hong Kong. But his money isn't. We checked last night, and the IP address of the whistleblower letter came from Hong Kong. The Wang Group's office building."

Ye Guigen was silent for a few seconds. "Wang Jianguo doesn't dare touch your grandfather's oil field, so he's targeting your 'Pegasus'. If he can't touch the big tree, he'll touch the grass under it. This man is petty."

Yang Chenglong walked back to the table, sat down, picked up his phone, and sent a message to Lin Wanwan:
"Wanwan, don't worry. I'm flying to Hangzhou tomorrow."

The reply came quickly: "No need. I can handle it. You go about your business."

Yang Chenglong stared at the line of text, feeling a pang in his heart. He typed:

"How can you handle all this by yourself? It involves both the business registration office and the tax office; can you manage it all?"

"You have to run, even if you can't. We can't expect you to fly back from London. You haven't finished your classes yet."

Yang Chenglong placed his phone on the table and rested his forehead on his hands. Ye Guigen stood behind him, silent. The office was quiet, save for the silent flow of the Thames outside the window.

“Given the truth,” Yang Chenglong raised his head, “did I make the wrong choice? Should I not have become ‘Pegasus’? Should I not have left Wanwan alone in Hangzhou?”

Ye Guigen pulled up a chair and sat down opposite him. "You didn't make the wrong choice. You just chose a difficult path."

"Difficult road?"

“The easy way out is to go back to Junken City and help your grandfather manage the oil field. You don’t have to do anything; you can just sit at home and collect money.”

“But you chose ‘Pegasus’. You chose to help those herders sell their scarves. You chose to let Wanwan carry the burden alone in China. This path is difficult, but once you make it through, you won’t regret it when you look back.”

Yang Chenglong looked at him and remained silent for a long time. "You have a really nice way of speaking."

Ye Guigen smiled. "It's not just a nice way of putting it. It's the truth."

Yang Chenglong picked up his phone and sent another message to Lin Wanwan:
"Wanwan, listen to me. I'm going to Hangzhou tomorrow. I'll handle the business registration and tax matters. You'll be in charge of the showroom and orders. Don't argue with me."

There was a moment of silence on the other end. Then a voice message came through. He listened to it; Lin Wanwan's voice was very soft, almost like a sigh.

"Yang Chenglong, I can't do anything with you."

Yang Chenglong looked at the message and smiled. He put his phone away and looked at Ye Guigen. "I'm going to Hangzhou tomorrow. Keep an eye on things in London for me."

"Row."

Yang Chenglong stood up, walked to the door, stopped, and turned back. "Guigen, thank you."

"No need to thank me. Just treat me to a meal."

"Okay. Pulled noodles."

"Large portion."

"Large portion."

Yang Chenglong left. His footsteps thumped loudly on the stairs, like a galloping horse.

Ye Guigen sat alone in his office, picked up his phone, and dialed a number.

"Uncle Scarface, help me investigate someone. Wang Jianguo. His address on Hong Kong Island, his itinerary, and who he met. The more details the better."

After hanging up the phone, he walked to the window and looked at the Thames. The water was grey and the current was very slow.

He remembered a sentence Ye Yuze had once said—

"Those who live in the shadows are not afraid of your light. They are afraid of you being even darker than them." He didn't know if he was dark enough, but he knew he was young enough.

When you're young, you have time. When you have time, you can wait. Wait for those who are hiding in the shadows to come out on their own.

Beijing, an office building of a government agency, on the same evening.

The light was still on in the small office. A document lay open on the table—the very same briefing circled in red pen.

A man in his fifties sat behind the table, wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His face was partially illuminated by the lamplight, making his expression unclear.

He picked up the phone on the table and dialed a number. It rang three times before he answered.

"Boss Wang, I've done what you asked me to do."

On the other end of the phone, Wang Jianguo's voice carried a hint of amusement. "The briefing has been submitted?"

"It's been submitted. The higher-ups approved it with 'further investigation'."

"Further investigation? Is this a good thing or a bad thing?"

The man paused for a moment. "Neither good nor bad. It means there are doubts above, but no conclusion yet. This is a window of opportunity. During this window, you can do a lot."

Wang Jianguo smiled. "What is it?"

"For example, let the media follow up. Make a big deal out of Ye Yuze's 'unconditional donation.' Make it seem like he had 'impure motives.' Make it seem like he was 'exerting pressure in disguise.' Once public opinion is in control, the higher-ups will have no choice but to investigate."

Wang Jianguo was silent for a few seconds. "Are you sure you want to do this? Ye Yuze is no ordinary person. He has Ye Feng, Yang Geyong, and the entire military reclamation city behind him."

The man leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

"Mr. Wang, you knew about the risks when you asked me to do something. Now that the risks have materialized, are you scared?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. "Don't worry. Okay. You arrange it. I'll cover the media expenses."

"You don't need to pay. Someone else will."

"Who?"

"You don't know him. But don't worry, his money is cleaner than yours."

After hanging up the phone, the man put his phone on the table, picked up the briefing, and read it again.

When he saw the sentence, "Is Ye Yuze's political stance as the father of American citizen Ye Feng completely reliable?", the corner of his mouth curled up slightly.

He put the briefing back on the table and turned off the light. The office fell into darkness.

Outside the window, there were no stars in the BJ night sky. The lights were too bright.

Military reclamation city, sanatorium, late at night on the same day.

Ye Wancheng sat in his wheelchair, gazing at the night sky outside the window. Meihua stood behind him, holding a coat in her hand.

"Wancheng, put it on. Don't catch a cold."

Ye Wancheng didn't move. He looked at the stars in the sky, which were so densely packed that it looked like someone had spilled a bag of loose silver.

“Plum Blossom,” he said, “someone is envious of Yu Ping’s engine.”

Mei Hua draped her coat over his shoulders. "I know."

"you know?"

“I know. Ye Feng called. He said someone is plotting against the Ye family.”

Ye Wancheng remained silent for a moment. "What did Ye Feng say?"

He said, "Let me handle it. I can't."

Ye Wancheng smiled. "This kid is like his grandfather. His grandfather was the same way back then. Someone said they wanted to mess with him, and he said, 'I can't mess with him.'"

Meihua walked around to him, squatted down, and looked into his eyes.

"Wan Cheng, are you scared?"

Ye Wancheng looked at her and remained silent for a long time.

“I’m not afraid,” he said. “Because I’m not alone. I have you, my son, my grandson. I have the entire military reclamation city.”

Meihua grasped his hand. Those hands were rough, cracked, and the knuckles were swollen.

Yes. You are not alone.

Ye Wancheng closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.

Plum Blossom stood by the bed, watching him. Moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating his face and the deep wrinkles on his skin.

She lowered her head and gently kissed his forehead.

Then she turned off the light and left the room.

The corridor was quiet, with only the sound of her footsteps echoing on the tiled floor.

The night in Junken City is pure black.

But it was almost dawn.

Ye Yuji was over fifty years old, but she still had a fiery temper. She slammed her hand on the table:
“It’s from one of my men, how dare he?” He picked up the phone to make the call.

Wang Honghua pressed her hand down: "How old are you? Why are you still so impulsive? Let them dance for a while. The more they dance now, the clearer the list of consequences will be later!"

"Sister, I can't stand seeing my brother being treated like this. If he were after fame and fortune, how could he have kept a low profile until now? How can these people have no conscience at all?"

Wang Honghua laughed: "That's how politics is. For the sake of interests, conscience is something that can be sold at any time."

The phone rang, and Wang Honghua answered: "Yu Fan, have you found out who it is? I know. Don't do anything yet. Just pretend you don't know anything about this."

Ye Yufan hesitated for a moment: "Sister, I've never done anything for Big Brother, but he's done so much for me, and I feel uncomfortable..."

A knock sounded at the door, and Han Xiaojing walked in, smiling at the group of people.
"I'll handle this. I'm the most professional. I don't understand politics, but I understand my profession and can determine what a person has done that they shouldn't have done!"

(To be continued) (End of this chapter)