Great Power Reclamation

The night in Junken City is pure black. There is no dark red light pollution like in London, only countless stars, densely covering the sky, like someone spilling a bag of loose silver.

Ye Yuze sat in his study, a chess game in the air before him, but his mind was elsewhere. He held a chess piece in his hand, turning it over and over for a long time without making a move.

Yang Geyong has left. He is now alone in the study, with only the ticking of the old clock on the wall.

He glanced at his phone; it was almost one in the morning. But he wasn't sleepy. As people get older, they need less sleep.

Sometimes I wake up three or four times a night, and once I'm awake, I can't fall back asleep.

When he can't sleep, he sits in his study, reads, drinks tea, or just sits and thinks.

He had many things on his mind tonight. Yang Wei's platform had grown significantly, generating hundreds of millions in revenue annually.

The road to Guozigou wasn't open yet, but Yang Wei said he was going to pave it. That kid, just like his dad, once he'd made up his mind about something, nothing could sway him.

Yang Chenglong runs "Tianma" in London, selling handmade scarves from northern Xinjiang to Europe.

That kid has more people on his mind than his father. The herders have woven scarves their whole lives, selling them for only a few dozen yuan each.

He helped them sell them in Europe, earning over a thousand each. The extra money didn't go to him; it went to the herders. That kid has connections.

Ye Guigen is also in London, where his "Cornerstone and Wings" fund is growing bigger and bigger. His photovoltaic projects in North Africa are already profitable, and his cooperative in Kenya is also starting to generate cash flow.

That kid is even more reliable than his father was back then. Ye Feng is in New York, shuttling between the Brothers Group and the Warriors Group, he's so busy he barely has time to breathe.

No matter how busy he was, he would call Ye Yuze every week. They wouldn't talk about anything on the phone, just ask how he was doing, whether he was eating well, and whether he was sleeping well.

Ye Yuze always said "good," but Ye Feng knew it wasn't good. Getting old is getting old, and nothing about you is good anymore.

But even if it's bad, I have to say it's good, because if I say it's bad, my son will worry. If he worries, he'll be distracted, and if he's distracted, he'll make mistakes. And if he makes mistakes, someone will take advantage of the situation.

He didn't want his son to make mistakes. So he always said "okay".

His phone vibrated. He picked it up and saw it was a message from Han Xiaojing. It contained only four words:

"Still not asleep?"

Ye Yuze thought for a moment and replied with two words: "No."

"I didn't sleep either. I couldn't sleep."

"what happened?"

"I'm thinking about Han Ye. He wants to get married. He doesn't know whether he should tell her about his background."

Ye Yuze's finger hovered over the screen. Han Ye. His son. The young man he had never been able to call "son."

Han Ye grew up in the Han family and called Ye Yuji "Mom" and Ye Yuji's husband "Dad".

He didn't know that his biological father was Ye Yuze, nor that his biological mother was Han Xiaojing.

He believed he was a child of the Han family, and that Ye Yuji was his biological mother. This secret had been hidden for over twenty years, and would continue to be hidden.

Although Han Ye later lived in Junken City for several years and learned the truth, and even ran away from home because of it, he eventually returned to the capital.

Because he's an adult now, and his nominal father is not only a descendant of the Han family but also a hero, he can't break all of this...

"What do you think?" Ye Yuze typed.

"Let's continue like this then. Actually, the child knows everything..."

Ye Yuze remained silent for a long time. Then he typed a line:

"You don't need to say anything. He'll handle it himself when the time is right..."

When will the time be right?

"He'll understand when he has children and becomes a father."

There was a moment of silence on the other end. Then came a single word: "Okay."

Ye Yuze put his phone on the table, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling. There was a part of his heart that had always been empty.

That space was reserved for Han Ye. But he never filled it. Not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't. Some things, you just can't.

He closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.

The next morning, Ye Yuze was awakened by noises coming from the courtyard.

He walked to the window, drew back the curtains, and saw Yang Geyong standing under the apricot tree, holding a large pair of pruning shears, trimming the dead branches of the old apricot tree.

Yang Geyong was wearing an old cotton-padded jacket, without a hat, and his gray hair was blown into a mess by the wind.

He cut very carefully, examining each hair for a long time as if he were making an extremely important decision.

Ye Yuze put on his coat and went out. "Why are you here? Why aren't you sleeping in so early in the morning?"

Yang Geyong didn't even look up. "I couldn't sleep. Zhao Ling'er said the trees needed pruning, so I came."

"Zhao Ling'er said the trees needed pruning, so you came to prune my trees?"

"Your tree is still a tree. Just because it's in your yard doesn't mean I can't trim it?"

Ye Yuze shook his head, walked to his side, and looked at the apricot tree.

The trunk was as thick as a bowl, and the branches were neatly pruned by Yang Geyong.

Sunlight shone on the branches, revealing fresh wood shavings where they had been pruned, gleaming with a pale yellow light.

"Old Yang," Ye Yuze said, "how much longer do you think this tree can live?"

Yang Geyong thought for a moment. "Apricot trees can live for decades. This tree is only a little over twenty years old, it's still too early."

"I mean, how many more times can it bloom?"

Yang Geyong stopped and looked at him. "What do you mean?"

Ye Yuze smiled. "It's nothing. I was just asking casually."

Yang Geyong put the scissors on the ground, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, took one out, and lit it.

"Old Ye, I have something to tell you."

"explain."

“I went to the nursing home yesterday to see your father.”

Ye Yuze was taken aback. "My dad? How is he?"

"He's doing well. He's in good spirits, it's just that his legs aren't working. He's in a wheelchair and can't stand up. But his mind is perfectly clear."

"He asked me if the 'Tianshan' engine had been installed on the aircraft yet. I said no, it was still undergoing testing. He asked how long the testing would take. I said about three years. He said, three years, I can wait."

Ye Yuze was silent for a while. "My dad has waited too many times in his life. Waiting for the trees to grow, waiting for the roads to be built, waiting for the engines to take to the sky. He waited his whole life."

Yang Geyong stubbed out his cigarette. "But he waited for it. The trees grew tall, the road was built, and the engine was about to take to the skies."

Ye Yuze nodded. The two stood under the apricot tree, neither speaking. The sunlight shone on them, warm and comforting. A breeze blew by, and the branches swayed gently, as if nodding.

London, East End docks, the same morning.

Ye Guigen sat in his office, a document spread out in front of him. It was the annual report of the "Cornerstone and Wings" fund. He turned to the last page and looked at the number—an annualized return of 14.5%. Two percentage points higher than last year.

The projects in North Africa were profitable, and the projects in Kenya were also profitable.

The two projects together earned him over $300,000 in a year. Not much, but enough. Enough for him to invest in two more new projects.

He picked up his phone and called Ye Yuze.

"grandfather."

"Ah."

"The fund's annual report is out. The return rate is 14.5%."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. "Not bad. Higher than last year."

"I'm planning to invest in a new project next year. In the Caspian Sea. To build a port."

Ye Yuze paused for a moment. "The Caspian Sea? How much would it cost to build a port there?"

“I don’t know. But it’s definitely a lot. I can’t afford to invest right now. But I can start planning. I can do a feasibility study, talk to the local government, and get the land first.”

Ye Yuze laughed. "You're more patient than your dad."

"It's not that I have patience. It's that I don't have money. If I had money, I would have done it long ago."

Ye Yuze laughed out loud. "Okay. You do the feasibility study first. Let me know if you need money."

"Grandpa, I didn't come here to ask for money."

“I know. You came to tell me. You’re all grown up now, you don’t need to ask me about everything. But now that you’ve asked, I feel at ease.”

Ye Guigen held his phone, unsure of what to say.

“Alright,” Ye Yuze said, “I’m hanging up. Tell Jackie Chan to come home for the New Year. He’s been away for a year, it’s time for him to come home.”

"it is good."

After hanging up the phone, Ye Guigen sat in a chair and looked out the window at the Thames River. The water was grayish and flowing very slowly.

He remembered what Ye Yuze had said: "You're all grown up now, you don't need to ask me about everything."

He has indeed grown up. But he knows that in his grandfather's eyes, he will always be that little boy who climbed the apricot tree to pick fruit.

He picked up his phone and sent a message to Yang Chenglong: "Grandpa wants you to come home for the New Year."

The reply came quickly: "Back where? To the military reclamation city?"

"Yes. He said you've been wandering around for a year, it's time to come home."

There was a moment of silence on the other end. Then a voice message came through. He listened to it; Yang Chenglong's voice sounded a little hoarse.

"Okay. I'll go back. I'll tell Wanwan."

Ye Guigen looked at the line of text and smiled. He put his phone on the table and continued reading the annual report.

Military reclamation city, sanatorium, the same afternoon.

Ye Wancheng sat in his wheelchair, looking at the sky outside the window. The sky was blue, the clouds were white, and sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the gray blanket on his lap.

Plum Blossom stood behind him, holding a comb in her hand, and was combing his hair.

His hair was completely white, but very thick, and the comb made a rustling sound as it slid from the top of his head to behind his ears.

“Wancheng,” Meihua said, “Yuping called. He said the engine’s second test run was successful.”

Ye Wancheng's eyes lit up. "Really?"

“Really. He said the data is even better than the first time. We're one step closer to loading it onto the plane.”

Ye Wancheng was silent for a moment. "Plum Blossom, do you think I can wait until that day?"

Meihua walked around to him, squatted down, and looked into his eyes. "You can. You definitely can."

Ye Wancheng smiled. It was a faint smile, but it was genuine. "You've spent your whole life trying to please me."

"I'm not trying to comfort you. I'm telling the truth."

Ye Wancheng didn't reply. He looked out the window, where the snow-capped peaks of the Tianshan Mountains shimmered white in the sunlight.

He recalled decades ago when he brought plum blossoms to XJ, taking a three-day train ride and a two-day bus ride to reach this Gobi Desert.

There was nothing there, only sand and stones. He stood there and said one sentence—

"I'll stay right here. I'm not leaving."

Meihua stood beside him, clutching her luggage, without saying a word. But she stayed with him. And stayed for the rest of her life.

“Plum blossom,” he said, “do you regret it?”

"No regrets."

"Not even once?"

Mei Hua thought for a moment. "Once upon a time."

"When?"

"The first time you hit me."

Ye Wancheng was taken aback. "I hit you?"

"I did. One slap. You've forgotten?"

Ye Wancheng thought for a long time, but couldn't remember. "Why did I hit you?"

"Because I said I wanted to go back to my hometown. You said, 'This is your home.' I said no. Then you hit me."

Ye Wancheng lowered his head and looked at his hands. His hands were rough, cracked, and his knuckles were swollen.

"Plum blossom, I'm sorry."

Meihua grasped his hand. "No need to apologize. You hit me, so I don't want to leave. You're right, this is my home."

Ye Wancheng's eyes reddened.

“Wancheng,” Meihua stood up, pushed the wheelchair, and walked to the window. “Look, the snow on Tianshan Mountain has melted. Spring is coming.”

Ye Wancheng looked out the window. The snow-capped peaks of the Tianshan Mountains shimmered in the sunlight, and the grasslands at the foot of the mountains were already showing a faint green hue.

"Spring is here, and the apricot blossoms will soon be in bloom," he said.

"Yes. The apricot blossoms are in bloom, and summer should be coming back."

Ye Wancheng nodded. The two stood by the window, gazing at the distant Tianshan Mountains. Sunlight shone on them, casting their shadows together, making them appear as one.

(To be continued) (End of this chapter)