Chapter 454: The Foundation

In the early summer afternoon in Shenzhen, the air was scented with the sweet, cloying fragrance of gardenias.

Lin Xueqing leaned over the spacious desk in the study, a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose.

The desk was covered with all kinds of documents, forms, and densely written draft sheets.

Beside her lay a cup of tea that had long since gone cold, its color dark and rich.

Sunlight filtered through the louvered windows, carving alternating light‑and‑shadow stripes across the side of her focused face.

Her brows furrowed at times and relaxed at others, while the steel pen in her hand glided over the paper, producing a soft rustling sound.

It was a stark contrast to the leisure of tending flowers, simmering soup, and strolling the streets.

At this moment, her gaze was sharp, her expression solemn, as if she had returned to the days in the field hospital, formulating surgical plans for complex injuries.

Li Ping'an gently pushed the door open, carrying a plate of sliced fruit.

He did not disturb her; he placed the fruit plate at the edge of the desk, then sat on the nearby sofa, quietly watching his wife work.

Dust motes in the sunlight drifted slowly around her.

She would pause her pen to contemplate, her fingers unconsciously tapping the desk.

At other times she wrote swiftly, her handwriting delicate yet forceful.

This wholly absorbed demeanor made him feel both familiar and strange.

What was familiar was that earnest vigor.

What was strange was that this seriousness now turned toward a brand‑new field, full of human warmth.

After a while, Lin Xueqing finally let out a long sigh, took off her glasses, and rubbed the aching corners of her eyes.

She looked up, saw Li Ping'an on the sofa, blinked slightly, then broke into a weary yet satisfied smile.

"When did you come in? Not a sound at all."

"Just came in," Li Ping'an said, standing, walking to her side, nudging the fruit plate toward her. "Take a break, have some fruit. We have to handle things one by one; no need to rush now."

Lin Xueqing speared a piece of apple with her fork, but did not eat it right away.

"Ping'an, I've been turning this over for days. How should our foundation help, so that we truly reach the point, touch people's hearts, and not wound their pride?"

She set the fork down and picked up a stack of manuscript sheets filled with writing.

"Just giving money is certainly the simplest. But 'Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime.' If we give a lump sum, what happens when it runs out? It may breed dependence. We need to find a way for them to stand on their own, with a lasting livelihood."

Li Ping'an sat in the chair opposite her, his body leaning slightly forward, assuming a listening posture.

"Hmm, tell me, what does the 'teach a man to fish' method look like?"

"I've preliminarily thought of a few directions."

Lin Xueqing turned the pages, speaking with clear logic, "Scoring the situation. For those living in the city, if they are only temporarily without income and their health permits, we can contact internal groups of the conglomerate, or other enterprises we invest in or cooperate with, to arrange suitable positions. Security, warehouse management, logistics, simple technical work—these roles have lower age and education requirements but can provide stable income."

She paused briefly.

"The key is that people must not feel it's charity. It must be a proper employment contract, paid for labor. We can offer pre‑job training so they can get up to speed quickly."

"What about those living in the countryside, especially remote villages?" Li Ping'an asked.

"The countryside is more complex, but there's also more to write about."

Lin Xueqing's eyes lit up, "Many military dependents and disabled veterans return home and tend a few thin plots of land, earning meager income. I'm thinking our foundation could step in, and in suitable towns set up an 'Honor Light Agricultural Product Purchase Station'."

"Purchase station?" Li Ping'an mused.

"Exactly!" Lin Xueqing grew more animated, "We'll buy their grain, vegetables, chickens and ducks at market price or slightly above. High‑quality produce can be supplied directly to our conglomerate's cafeterias, partner hotels, or the markets in Shenzhen and Hong Kong. That way, what they grow and raise has a guaranteed buyer, providing stable income."

"The purchase station itself also needs staff—sorting, packing, transport. Those jobs can be prioritized for local military dependents and veterans with family difficulties, solving part of the employment issue."

Li Ping'an nodded approvingly.

The idea was pragmatic and highly actionable.

Combining charitable assistance with a commercial chain creates a virtuous cycle.

"And also,"

Lin Xueqing continued, "Just planting traditional crops caps income. The foundation could hire agricultural technicians to guide and help them cultivate higher‑value crops or specialty livestock—herbs, mushrooms, fruit. We can provide seeds and techniques as initial support, even secure sales channels. Once they earn money, they can gradually repay the costs, allowing the foundation's fund to rotate and help more people."

She finished, looking at Li Ping'an with a hint of anticipation.

"Do you think... these methods will work?"

Li Ping'an did not answer immediately.

He carefully mulled over his wife's words.

After a while, he finally spoke slowly, his tone solemn.

"Xueqing, your ideas aren't just feasible; they're excellent. They solve immediate hardships while looking toward long‑term development; they provide a livelihood as well as dignity and hope. This is far more difficult and far more meaningful than simply handing out money."

He grasped his wife's hand.

"I'll leave this matter to you to lead; then I'm completely at ease. Follow this line of thought and draft detailed statutes and management measures. Whatever support you need, just ask."

Lin Xueqing felt warmth in her heart, squeezing her husband's hand firmly in return.

But immediately, she let out a soft sigh, a trace of heavy worry crossing her brows.

"The system is easy to set; the difficulty lies in how to start, and where to start."

She pulled out a separate document, pushed it toward Li Ping'an, and said, "This is what Political Commissar Zhou coordinated, the first batch of recommended priority names and brief details. Looking at it, I feel… especially uneasy."

Li Ping'an picked up the document.

The paper was plain, the text printed, with handwritten additions in some places.

His gaze fell on the first entry of the first page.

He glanced at it once, and his breath caught slightly.

"Jibei Province, Qingshan County, Hongqi Commune (now a township), Liushugou Village."

A brief note followed:

"During the Korean War, eighteen eligible young men from the village eagerly enlisted. After the war, three returned, one of whom was severely disabled. Two earned first‑class merit, five earned second‑class merit, and the village was hailed as an 'Honor Village.' Today the village still has seven households of direct relatives of fallen martyrs and one household of disabled veterans, with life generally difficult. The village's collective income is almost zero, and natural conditions are poor."

Behind the cold words lay blood and fire that almost overflowed, sacrifice and glory, and the heaviness and exhaustion accumulated over long years.

One village.

Eighteen went.

Three returned.

Li Ping'an seemed to see back then, under the old willow tree at the village entrance, eighteen youths in ill-fitting uniforms, red flowers on their chests, carrying the villagers' entreaties and youthful fervor, marching toward the battlefield to defend home and country.

He could also see later, only three figures remained, perhaps still bearing wounds, silently returning to this land where they could no longer wait for their fifteen fallen brothers.

The plaques for first-class and second-class merits might still be there.

But the heroes and their families led difficult lives.

The study grew quiet.

The faint sound of traffic from outside made this quiet feel even more oppressive.

"Willow Tree Gully..." Li Ping'an whispered the name, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the edge of the page.

"Commissioner Zhou deliberately placed this village first."

Lin Xueqing's voice was a little hoarse: "He said this village is a microcosm and a benchmark. Getting it right here would be of extraordinary significance, but the difficulty is also the greatest—it's remote, the foundation is weak, and just giving money won't solve the fundamental problem."

She looked at her husband.

"I think... the first stop after the foundation is established will be here. No grand ceremony—just you and me, with two reliable staff members, first to get a clear picture of the actual situation. See whether our 'teach a man to fish' methods can work there, and how."

Li Ping'an lifted his head, his gaze meeting his wife's.

From her eyes he saw determination, and also the medical professional's spirit of exploration that does not shy from difficult cases.

"Good." He had no hesitation: "We'll go to Willow Tree Gully. I'll arrange the time; we can leave next week. Light travel, simple arrangements—we'll go quietly."

He paused.

"But before we go, we need to prepare the 'fishing gear' more thoroughly. Contact the group's business unit near Hebei to see if any suitable positions can be reserved. Ask our cooperating agricultural academy experts what economic crops or livestock are suitable for northern Hebei. Also, the purchasing station idea—once we're on site, we must communicate with the local government and hear their opinions."

Lin Xueqing nodded repeatedly, immediately picking up a pen to record it.

"There's one more thing." Li Ping'an pondered: "Since it's an 'Honor Village,' those medals and plaques are their pride and spiritual mainstay. Our help must not be seen as pity. We must find a way to polish this 'glory' anew, so the younger generation knows and outsiders can see. The specifics... we'll figure out when we get there."

Over the next few days, Lin Xueqing became even busier.

Based on her initial thoughts, she drafted the "Iron Blood Honor Aid Foundation Charter (draft)," clarifying the foundation's purpose, aid principles, organizational structure, and fund management and usage procedures.

The emphasis highlighted four major directions: employment assistance, industry support, skills training, and dignity protection.

The draft detailed the selection criteria, application process, and evaluation methods for aid recipients.

It stressed the importance of follow-up visits and effectiveness evaluation.

She even designed several different "aid agreement" templates, distinguishing cases such as job placement, small-scale production assistance, and technical cooperation, to ensure clear responsibilities and standardized procedures.

Li Ping'an carefully reviewed the draft, making only minor revisions.

He felt genuine admiration for his wife's organizational ability and meticulous thinking displayed in such a short time.

This was not just sentiment; it was ability.

The night before departure.

Lin Xueqing packed simple luggage in the bedroom.

Her clothing mainly consisted of durable, plain dark colors.

She deliberately brought two pairs of sturdy flat cloth shoes.

Li Ping'an walked in, holding a small but heavy iron tin.

"What is this?" Lin Xueqing asked.

Li Ping'an opened the box.

Inside were not gold, silver, or jewels, but several stacks of various-denomination RMB, some national grain coupons, plus a few unopened packs of cigarettes and several boxes of matches.

"Poor home, rich road." Li Ping'an simply said: "It might come in handy when we get there. Especially when visiting relatives' homes, showing up empty-handed wouldn't do. Cigarettes and matches are useful for getting closer to the locals."

He then took out a kraft paper envelope and handed it to Lin Xueqing.

"This is an introduction letter issued by the group, plus a personal letter I wrote to a few old comrades-in-arms locally. If we run into any difficulties, it might help a bit. But unless absolutely necessary, don't use it."

Lin Xueqing took it, feeling much more at ease.

Her husband was always like this—thoroughly thoughtful, silently preparing everything.

The next morning, the sky was just beginning to lighten.

An inconspicuous black sedan drove away from the villa area beside Shenzhen Bay.

The driver was a man arranged by Wang Dahu—quiet but extremely reliable, also a veteran.

In the passenger seat sat a young assistant from the foundation's preparatory team, responsible for recording and liaison.

Li Ping'an and Lin Xueqing sat in the back seat.

The car sped toward Guangzhou Baiyun Airport.

Lin Xueqing watched the cityscape outside the window rush backward—gradually awakening, with high-rises, construction sites, and early pedestrians.

She lightly placed her hand on the file bag on her lap that held the draft charter and Willow Tree Gully materials.

Her palms slightly sweated.

This wasn't nervousness.

Rather, it was a solemn and excited feeling about confronting a heavy history and trying to do something about it.

Li Ping'an grasped her hand.

His palm was broad, warm, and steady.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked softly.

Lin Xueqing fell silent for a moment, then softly said: "I'm wondering whether that old willow tree at the entrance of Willow Tree Gully is still alive. How many of those who saw them off back then are still around? What condition are the three returning elders in now? How did the mothers and wives of those fallen soldiers endure these past decades?"

Her voice was very soft, yet it carried a tremendous weight.

Li Ping'an squeezed her hand tightly.

"So we went, not just to deliver money and goods. We also came to tell that old willow tree, to tell the living, to tell the heroic spirits buried underground."

He paused, then spoke word for word:

"Someone remembers. The nation remembers. The people remember. Their blood does not flow in vain. Their families will not be forever forgotten in hardship."

The car entered the airport expressway.

The sunrise leapt from the horizon, dyeing the sky a magnificent golden‑red.

A new day began.

A journey bearing past glory and future hope also officially set off.

Target: Northern Hebei.

The "Honor Village" hidden among the mountains, named Willow Gully.

There, it will be the first land illuminated by "Iron‑Blooded Glory."

It is also the first testing ground for their "teaching a man to fish" original intention.