Great Power Reclamation

After quietly reviewing Yang Wei's proposal, she didn't rush to sign it. She closed the folder, leaned back in her chair, and looked out the window. The sky over Junken City was very blue, and sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a golden glow on her desk.

She recalled many years ago, when she was a little girl, learning about the military reclamation city with her father and visiting for the first time. Back then, there was nothing here, just a vast Gobi desert where the wind and sand made it impossible to open one's eyes.

Her father stood beside her, pointing to the desolate area in the distance, and said:
"There will be a city here someday."

She didn't believe it then, but now she does. The city exists, but it's old and needs a new look.

She made a phone call. "Director Sun, could you come over here?"

Director Sun arrived quickly, holding a copy of the plan. He thought Jingjing wanted to ask about money, but Jingjing wasn't asking about money.

"Director Sun, do you think this plan is sufficient?"

Director Sun was taken aback. "Is it enough or not?"

"Is it worthy of the current state of the military reclamation city?"

Director Sun thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Not enough."

She looked at him quietly. "Then what do you think would be enough?"

Director Sun stood in front of his desk, remained silent for a while, then turned to the last page of the plan and pointed to the renderings.

"Junken City is no longer just a small town in Northwest China. Large aircraft are manufactured here, engines are developed here, and airworthiness certificates are obtained here. The whole world knows about Junken City now."

"The people who come are not just investors and businessmen, but also journalists, scholars, and tourists. What are they here to see? The engines? The engines are in the research institute, and they can't go in. What they are here to see is the city itself. What they see on the streets is what the military reclamation city looks like in their minds."

Jingjing remained silent, gazing out the window. Sunlight shone on her face, highlighting the deep wrinkles around her eyes.

"Director Sun, take the plan back and redo it. Not modify it, but redo it. Make it bigger, extend it further, and make it worthy of the current reputation of the Military Reclamation City."

"What about the budget?"

“Budget is not a problem. I’ll figure out how to get the money.”

Director Sun took the proposal and left. Jingjing sat alone in her office, picked up the phone on her desk, and dialed a number. It rang three times before she answered.

"Fourth."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. "Jingjing, what made you decide to call me?"

"The military reclamation town needs to be renovated. I want to expand it, but I don't have enough money. Do you have any solutions?"

There was another pause on the other end of the phone. "How much?"

"The first phase of the project will cost approximately one billion yuan."

"A few billion, not much. I'll have William take it from the company's account. No need to pay it back."

He held his phone quietly, without saying a word.

"Jingjing, are you still there?"

"exist."

"You're in charge of things in Junken City. Don't worry about me."

The call ended. Quietly, she placed her phone on the table and looked out the window.

The discussion on the renovation and upgrade plan lasted all day. Director Sun, along with the planning bureau staff, held the meeting from nine in the morning until six in the afternoon, only eating a boxed lunch for twenty minutes while revising the blueprints.

Yang Wei also arrived, sitting in a corner, listening to the young people arguing:

Should the road be widened by two meters? Should the park be enlarged? Should we add another layer of solar panels?

He felt like an observer, watching a city slowly take shape on a piece of paper. It wasn't drawn by him; it was drawn by everyone together. He had only started.

By the time the final plan was finalized, it was already dark. The meeting room was brightly lit, and a huge planning map was spread out on the table.

The new town is almost twice the size of the original plan, the central park has doubled in size, and the underground reservoir capacity has increased from tens of thousands of cubic meters to hundreds of thousands of cubic meters.

The smart city control center has doubled in size, adding a data center and an emergency command center, and has also reserved space for expansion over the next ten years.

The renovation of the old town was not scaled back; the entire pipeline network was replaced, all exterior walls were insulated, all streetlights were replaced with smart poles, all garbage recycling stations were upgraded, and a new "pocket park" project was added.

Build a small park wherever possible near each old residential area. It has trees, benches, fitness equipment, and children's slides. It's not big, but it's enough.

Director Sun stood up and rubbed his sore eyes. "Yang Wei, take a look."

Yang Wei stood up, walked to the planning map, looked at it for a long time, and then said, "This is the military reclamation city."

Director Sun nodded. "This is the Military Reclamation City. The New Military Reclamation City."

The renovation project restarted just three days after the finalized plan. The renovation of the heating network continued, the installation of smart streetlights continued, and the energy-saving renovations of older residential areas continued.

Meanwhile, land leveling in the new city began. Bulldozers drove into the open space in the east of the city and leveled the uneven mounds.

A road roller followed behind, compacting the loose sand. Workers set up a perimeter cordon to prevent unauthorized personnel from entering.

But some people still came and stood outside the cordon, watching the machines move back and forth in the open space.

One of the elderly men stood at the front, wearing a faded military overcoat and a cotton hat, revealing a ring of gray hair.

He stood there for a long time, watching the bulldozers flatten the mounds, watching the road rollers compact the ground, and watching the surveyors drive wooden stakes into the ground.

He watched intently, as if he were watching a performance. Yang Wei came out of the construction site and walked over to him.

"Sir, what are you looking at?"

The old man turned his head, glanced at him, and smiled. When he smiled, he revealed a few teeth that were no longer quite straight.

“Look at the bulldozers. When I was young, I drove bulldozers too. Back then, there was no city yet, just a vast desert. We drove bulldozers, leveled the ground, and built the first row of houses. Now they're driving bulldozers again, leveling the ground, and building new houses. Same bulldozers, different people. The people have changed, but the city hasn't. As long as the city exists, the people will remain.”

Yang Wei stood beside him, also looking at the bulldozers. "Sir, what's your name?"

"His surname is Wang. Wang Fugui."

"Uncle Wang, don't worry, the new house is better than the old one. It's warm, bright, and draft-free."

"I know."

The old man patted his arm. "I know."

He turned and walked away, slowly but steadily. Yang Wei watched his retreating figure but did not chase after him.

When the news reached the Ye family's old residence, Ye Yuze was in the yard looking at the apricot tree. The buds had already split open, and the pink and white petals peeked out from the gaps, translucent like thin cicada wings in the sunlight.

In a few days, the flowers will be in full bloom. Yang Wei pushed open the door and came in, standing behind him.

"Uncle Ye, the renovation plan has been upgraded. The area of ​​the new city has doubled, the central park has also been enlarged, the scale of the smart city control center has doubled, and pocket parks have been added to the plan."

Ye Yuze didn't turn around. "Is the money enough?"

“That’s enough. Aunt Jingjing said she’ll let the fourth son’s money go through the company’s account, and he doesn’t need to pay it back.”

Ye Yuze paused for a moment. "It's only right that the fourth brother pays. He's in the US, but his heart is in the military reclamation city. It's his intention to pay. Let him pay."

He turned to look at Yang Wei. The man's face was covered in sand, and a distinct tan line ran down his forehead—from the helmet strap, like a thin river.

He's old, not in physical age, but in his heart. People who worry a lot age quickly.

"Wei Zi, does your dad know what you're doing?"

"I know." "What did he say?"

Yang Wei thought for a moment. "He said, if it works out, he'll drink. If it doesn't, he'll still drink. There's no way he won't drink. If it works out, he'll celebrate; if it doesn't, he'll drink in silence. Either way, he won't lose out."

Ye Yuze's lips curled up slightly. "Your dad's only achievement in his life. But that's enough. If he succeeds, he'll have wine to drink. If he fails, he'll still have wine to drink. It's not a loss. He'll have everything."

He turned around and continued looking at the apricot tree. The buds swayed gently in the wind, as if nodding or waving.

Yang Wei turned and walked away. After a few steps, he stopped but didn't look back. "Uncle Ye, the military reclamation city has improved. Are you happy?"

Ye Yuze didn't answer. But he stood in front of the apricot tree, looking at the buds that were about to bloom. A breeze blew by, and the branches of the apricot tree swayed gently.

The quiet signing ceremony wasn't held in the municipal government compound, nor at the new city construction site. She chose Xinhua Street, the oldest street in the old city.

This street has been there since the early days of the military reclamation city. The road surface is still the original cement road, which is now cracked beyond recognition.

The poplar trees along the roadside have grown thick, their canopies shading half the street. The old houses on the street have peeling paint, revealing the red bricks underneath, like an old newspaper torn into several layers.

Jingjing said, "Let's sign here. After we sign, the first hammer blow will be right here. We must start from the oldest place, tear down the old so that the new can be built."

Many people came that day. There were city officials, leaders of the Production and Construction Corps, residents who came after hearing the news, and several reporters carrying video cameras.

Yang Wei stood next to Jingjing, wearing a clean coat and with his hair neatly combed, but his shoes were still covered in mud from the construction site. Jingjing asked him:
Are you nervous?

Yang Wei said, "I'm nervous."

Jingjing said, "It's right to be nervous. If you're not nervous, it means you don't care. You'll only be nervous if you care."

Director Sun set up the signing table at the intersection of Xinhua Street—a wooden table covered with a red cloth, with folders and pens on it.

She walked over quietly, sat down, opened the folder, and signed the renovation agreement. She didn't use a calligraphy brush, but a regular ballpoint pen with black ink, writing slowly, stroke by stroke.

After finishing writing, he closed the folder, stood up, and took a large sledgehammer tied with a red ribbon from the staff member.

The hammerhead was new, shiny, and gleaming in the sunlight. She walked to the oldest wall on Xinhua Street, swung the hammer, and smashed it down.

With a loud crash, a large chunk of plaster fell off, revealing the red bricks underneath. The bricks were solid and fired very firmly; decades of wind and rain hadn't broken them.

But new things always replace old things, not because they are bad, but because they need a rest. The old bricks have completed their mission, and the new bricks are ready.

Applause erupted from the crowd. Someone shouted, "Bravo!"

Then the applause grew even louder.

Jingjing handed the hammer to Yang Wei, who took it and struck the wall again, then a third, a fourth, and a fifth. Pieces of plaster crumbled away, revealing more and more red bricks. The renovation of Xinhua Street began with that single hammer blow.

The international visitors arrived a week later. A private plane landed at the provincial capital's airport, and a dozen or so people disembarked, including businessmen, journalists, scholars, and several photographers with cameras.

They all came for the military reclamation city, or more accurately, for the large aircraft in the military reclamation city.

The airplane was built, and they wanted to see what the manufacturing facility looked like. A journalist from France rented a car at the provincial capital's airport and drove there, but the more he drove, the more uneasy he felt.

The houses on both sides of the road grew shorter, the Gobi Desert widened, and the sky seemed to hang lower. He muttered to himself:
Can a large aircraft really be built in a place like this?
But when the car drove into the military reclamation city, he was stunned.

Along Xinhua Road on the outskirts of the city, he saw a row of newly installed streetlights. The lampposts were octagonal, silver-white, and had sensors at the top that gleamed in the sunlight.

Scaffolding was erected outside the old houses by the roadside, and workers were adding insulation layers to the exterior walls. The warm yellow paint had only been applied halfway, half yellow and half gray, like a person changing into new clothes.

He stopped his car by the roadside, got out, and took a few photos. An elderly man passing by approached him and asked in heavily accented Mandarin:

"Young man, what are you filming?"

The French journalist replied in broken Chinese, "I filmed your city. It's very beautiful."

The old man smiled. "Beautiful? It wasn't beautiful before. It's beautiful now. It will be even more beautiful in the future."

After photographing the streetlights, the French journalist photographed the workers on the scaffolding, the smart garbage recycling station by the roadside, and an old lady squatting in the doorway sunbathing.

He took many photos, and finally took a picture of an old apricot tree—an apricot tree growing by the roadside with a thick trunk, branches that stretched far out, and flower buds that had already split open, revealing pink and white petals.

A worker walked up to him, glanced at his camera screen, and asked, "Why are you taking a picture of that?"

A French journalist said, "It looks good."

The worker smiled. "This tree is older than me. It's stood here for decades. It's watched this road change from a dirt road to a cement road, and from a cement road to an asphalt road. Now it's going to change again, and it can see what it will look like."

The French journalist returned to his hotel, imported the photos into his computer, and examined them one by one: streetlights, scaffolding, a garbage dump, an old woman, and an apricot tree.

He organized the photos, selected a few of the best ones, added text, and published a report titled "Military Reclamation City: More Than Just Large Airplanes."

The report was short, but the accompanying pictures were beautiful. After it was published, it received over a million views within half a day.

Comments in the comment section came from all over the world: "This place looks like a science fiction movie."

"Are all the cities in Northwest China this high-class now?"

"I want to go see that apricot tree."

When the news reached Yang Wei, he was at the construction site overseeing the pipeline installation. He took out his phone, glanced at the report, but neither forwarded nor commented. He put his phone back in his pocket and continued watching the workers.

The foreman asked him, "Boss Yang, someone praised us, aren't you happy?"

Yang Wei said, “I’m happy. But I can’t be happy for too long. If I’m happy for too long, I won’t want to work. If I don’t work, the roads won’t be finished. If the roads aren’t finished, the city will become worse. If the city becomes worse, nothing I say will matter.”

Ye Yuze saw the report under the apricot tree. Yu'e handed him her phone, and he put on his reading glasses and flipped through the photos one by one.

Streetlights, scaffolding, a garbage dump, an old woman, an apricot tree. He stopped at the last picture—

It's not a photo of an apricot tree, but a photo of the wall on Xinhua Street where a hammer smashed into it. A large section of the wall in the photo has been smashed away, revealing the red bricks underneath, with decades of mortar embedded in the brick joints.

He stared at it for a long time, then looked up at the apricot tree in the yard. It was also in bloom. It bloomed every year, regardless of whether anyone took pictures of it.

Ye Feng also saw the report in New York, through a link forwarded by Ye William.

After reading it, he put his phone on the table. The report didn't mention the airplane, but the tree, the lamp, and the wall. That tree was planted years ago and has now grown into a towering giant.

The lamp was newly installed, illuminating areas that hadn't been reached before. The wall had been smashed open, revealing decades-old red bricks underneath.

He sat for a while and sent Yang Wei a message: "The photos of the military reclamation city are very beautiful."

Yang Wei's reply was only two words: "Not bad."

Ye Feng looked at those two words but didn't reply. Yang Wei was just that kind of person—not much of a talker, but a man of action.

Yang Geyong also saw the report at the horse farm. He squatted by the horse pen, holding his phone in one hand and touching the foal with the other.

The foal has grown quite a bit; it's tall, its legs are strong, and it runs with a gust of wind.

He looked at his phone while petting it. When it got impatient, it snorted and buried its head in his chest.

Emily came over from the research institute, squatted down next to him, and also looked at her phone: "Grandpa Yang, Junken City is on the news."

Yang Geyong put his phone away. "Let it be. It deserves to be. They built a large aircraft, transformed the city, planted trees, and repaired roads. If it doesn't make the news, who will see it?"

Emily watched the little pony running happily in the sunset. "Grandpa Yang, what do you think the military reclamation city will become?"

"do not know."

Yang Geyong stood up. "But it won't be worse than it is now. As long as it's not worse, that's fine." (End of Chapter)