Chapter 539: Grand Finale

September 18, 2019, Shenzhen.

When Li Ping'an opened his eyes, the sky outside the window was just faintly bright.

He lay on the bed he had slept on for twenty years, turned his head, and saw Lin Xueqing still asleep. Her breathing was light and even, her gray-white hair spread across the pillow like a thin layer of frost.

He gazed for a long time.

Then he gently got up, threw on the old coat he had worn for over ten years, and walked to the window.

Outside the window, Shenzhen's morning light was spreading. In the distance, the outline of Fenghuang Mountain was clear; the city at its base had already awakened, traffic on Shen Nan Avenue was bustling, and the buildings glittered in the sunlight.

The city he had helped build with his own hands was now ten times larger, ten times taller, and ten times livelier than when he first arrived.

He stood there for a while.

Lin Xueqing softly called from behind him.

"Ping'an."

He turned around.

Lin Xueqing had already sat up, looking at him.

"Today you are one hundred years old."

Li Ping'an smiled.

"Yeah, one hundred."

At ten in the morning, the banquet hall of Wanshang Hotel had fifty tables set up.

There were no outsiders, only members of the Li Family, and those old brothers who had followed Li Ping'an his whole life.

He Yuzhu was ninety-one, sitting in a wheelchair, his hair completely white, but his eyes still bright.

Chen Jianghe was ninety-two, his back already bent, but his voice remained as loud as ever.

Ma Dongmei was ninety, in good spirits, and was talking with Li PingLe.

Li PingLe was ninety-five, five years younger than his brother Li Ping'an, and wore a smile.

Li Ping'an sat in the seat of honor, wearing a dark gray Zhongshan suit, his hair still black, his back still straight.

Li Chengye walked over holding a cup of tea.

Twenty-six years old, a researcher at the Wanshang Research Institute, having just earned his PhD last year. He sat down beside Li Ping'an.

"Grandfather, I offer you a toast."

Li Ping'an looked at him.

This child, whom he had watched grow up. From a tiny infant in swaddling clothes to now a strapping young man 1.8 meters tall.

"Chengye, do you have a sweetheart?"

Li Chengye's face flushed.

"Grandfather, I'm busy. There's no time."

Li Ping'an smiled.

"Busy is busy, but you ought to look; you still need to look. I'm still waiting to hold a great-grandchild."

Li Chengye scratched his head.

"You'll surely be able to."

Li Ping'an nodded.

"That's good."

After three rounds of drinks, Li Yaozong stood up.

He held his wine cup and walked to Li Ping'an's front.

"Dad, today you turn one hundred. I offer you a cup."

Li Ping'an lifted his tea cup.

Li Yaozong did not drink right away.

He looked at his father.

"Dad, I remember everything you taught me over the years."

He paused.

"Keep a low profile in life, be bold in action. Hold compassion in your heart."

Li Ping'an nodded.

"Just remember that."

Li Yaozong drank that cup of wine.

Then he turned and faced everyone at the table.

"Everyone, today is my father's hundredth birthday. Let's all raise a cup to him."

Everyone stood up and raised their wine cups.

"Wishing Uncle Li (Grandfather) good health and a lifespan of a hundred years!"

Li Ping'an lifted his tea cup and looked at everyone in the room.

There were the children he had watched grow up.

There were the old brothers who had fought alongside him to build their empire.

There were the younger generation he had seen born, now parents themselves.

And there was his great-grandchild, a child not yet born.

He raised his tea cup.

"Thank you, everyone."

On the seventh day after his birthday, Li Ping'an passed away.

That morning, when Lin Xueqing woke up, she found his hand still holding hers, but it was already cold.

He was not sick, felt no pain, he had simply fallen asleep and never woke again.

When Li Yaozong arrived, Lin Xueqing was still sitting by the bedside, holding his hand.

She did not cry.

She merely gazed at that sleeping face, for a long, long time.

Then she lifted her head and looked at Li Yaozong.

"Your father said he wanted to go back to his hometown."

Li Yaozong nodded.

"I know."

Three days later, Li Ping'an's ashes were sent back to his hometown in Henan.

On the day of the burial, the sky was blue and the wind gentle; on that slope behind the hill stood a blue stone stele, on which two lines were carved:

The grave of the late Mr. Li, whose personal name was Lao Shi, and the late Mrs. Li, née Wang.

The unfilial son Ping'an and the unfilial daughter Ping Le respectfully erected.

That was thirty-five years ago, when Li Ping'an erected it himself.

Now he is returning to be beside his parents.

Li Yaozong held the ash box and dug a new pit beside that stele; he dug slowly and carefully, shovel by shovel, as if performing a ritual.

He Xia helped from the side. Chen Feng, Zhao Ming, Zhou Ye, Wang Bo, Liu Yang, Zhang Lei, Lin Jiawen, Fang Wenshan… those who had followed Wanshang their whole lives all came.

When the ash box was lowered, Li Pingle cried.

Standing before her brother's grave, she cried like a child.

Li Yaozong did not cry.

He simply knelt down and kowtowed three times.

Then he stood up and looked at that stele.

On the stele, another line had been added.

The grave of the late father Li, Li Ping'an.

That night, after returning from Henan, Lin Xueqing summoned Li Yaozong to the room.

She sat on the bedside, holding an old box in her hand.

That was Li Ping'an's box.

"Your father left a few things."

She opened the box.

The first item was a yellowed photograph. In the photo, a young man in his twenties stood at the gate of the Steel Rolling Mill, wearing clean work clothes and smiling.

"This was taken the year he entered the Steel Rolling Mill."

The second item was a handwritten proposal. The paper had become brittle, ready to tear at a touch. Written on it were several lines: minivan, pager, DVD, crystal element, mobile phone…

"This was written the year he started his business."

The third item was a slip of paper.

On the slip was only one line of text.

"Xueqing, I'm going ahead. Take your time, don't rush."

Lin Xueqing looked at that slip of paper and remained silent for a long time.

Then she slipped the paper back into the box and handed the box to Li Yaozong.

"Keep it."

Li Yaozong received the box.

"Mom, you…"

Lin Xueqing shook her head.

"I'm fine. I made this agreement with him."

Forty-nine days after Li Ping'an's passing, Lin Xueqing also left.

That evening, she ate dinner as usual, watched a bit of TV, then returned to her room and lay down.

The next morning, the nanny went to wake her and found she had already gone.

On the bedside table lay a slip of paper.

"Yaozong, I'm going to find your father. Don't be sad, this was our agreement. Bury me beside him."

Li Yaozong looked at that slip of paper and stood there for a long time.

Then he knelt down and kowtowed three times.

Lin Xueqing's ashes were also sent back to the hometown in Henan.

She was buried beside Li Ping'an.

The two graves stood side by side, separated by a width of one Chinese foot.

The inscription on the stele was written by Li Yaozong himself.

The grave of the late mother Li, née Lin, Xueqing.

He Xia stood beside them, looking at the two steles.

"Manager Li, Uncle Li and Auntie, this life was worth it."

Li Yaozong nodded.

"Worth it."

January 2020, Wuhan.

A new virus began to spread.

When the news came, Li Yaozong was holding the annual strategy meeting.

Fang Wenshan pushed the door open and entered, his face pale.

"Li Zong, Wuhan has been locked down."

The meeting room fell silent for a second.

Li Yaozong stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the window, Shenzhen's sky was dull and overcast.

He stood there for a few seconds.

Then he turned around.

"Notify everyone, we'll hold a meeting in ten minutes."

Ten minutes later, the meeting room was full of people.

Chen Feng, Zhao Ming, He Xia, Liu Yang, Zhou Ye, Wang Bo, Lin Jiawen, Fang Wenshan……the heads of all core departments had arrived.

Li Yaozong got straight to the point.

"Everyone knows about the Wuhan outbreak."

He looked at the people present.

"We need to do something."

He walked to the whiteboard and wrote a few words.

Donations. Supplies. Logistics. Technology.

"The first line: donations. In the group's name, donate one billion yuan. We'll transfer it today."

No one spoke.

One billion.

But no one thought it was too much.

"The second line: personal donations. Senior executives, give what you can. My personal contribution is one hundred million."

He paused.

"I've also notified my sister and my brother; they will each donate twenty million."

"The third line: supplies. All warehouses of Wanshang Supermarket, masks, protective suits, disinfectant—everything that can be mobilized will be sent directly to Wuhan."

He looked at Zhou Ye.

"Zhou Ye, you're in charge of coordinating with the Red Cross. Whatever they need, we'll provide."

Zhou Ye nodded.

"The fourth line: logistics. All vehicles of Wanshang Logistics are on standby. Whatever Wuhan needs to transport, we'll transport. Fuel, tolls, driver subsidies—the group will cover them."

He Xia nodded.

"The fifth line: technology. Fenghuang Chat, Wanshang Live, and Wanshang Video will all launch anti-epidemic specials, pushing authoritative information to users and suppressing rumors."

Wang Bo nodded.

The next day, supplies began to be shipped.

The first batch: five million masks, five hundred thousand sets of protective clothing, one thousand tons of disinfectant.

The second batch: three hundred ventilators, five hundred monitors, twenty ECMO machines.

The third batch: five hundred tons of vegetables, three hundred tons of fruit, one hundred thousand boxes of instant noodles.

Each time a batch of supplies set out, Li Yaozong stood at the door watching.

He said nothing.

He just watched those vehicles, one by one, drive out of the factory grounds and disappear at the end of Shen Nan Avenue.

One month later, the Wuhan outbreak began to improve.

Fang Wenshan sent over a report.

"Li Zong, everything we donated has been used."

Li Yaozong took it and looked.

Masks used: 4.2 million; protective clothing used: 430,000 sets; disinfectant used: 800 tons.

Ventilators saved over a thousand people; ECMO saved over thirty.

Vegetables and fruit were distributed to seventeen residential areas, feeding over 200,000 people.

He closed the report.

"Anything else?"

Fang Wenshan nodded.

"There's more. The Wuhan municipal government sent a thank-you letter."

He placed that letter on the table.

Li Yaozong glanced at it but didn't open it.

"Just keep it."

At the end of 2020, Wanshang's market capitalization was announced.

Fenghuang Chat: market value 800 billion.

Wanshang Live: market value 500 billion.

Wanshang Video: market value 300 billion.

Wanshang Auto: market value 2 trillion.

Wanshang Phone: market value 1.5 trillion.

Wanshang Bank, market value one trillion.

Wanshang Research Institute, valuation five hundred billion.

Twenty subsidiaries combined, total market value exceeds eight trillion.

World Top 500 ranking, Wanxiang Group fourth.

Only behind Apple, Microsoft, Amazon.

Fang Wenshan placed that ranking list on Li Yaozong's desk.

Li Yaozong glanced at it, said nothing.

He stood up, walked to the window.

Outside the window, Shenzhen's night was deepening.

In the distance, the Nanshan R&D Center was brightly lit. That six-story old building has now expanded into ten new buildings. In the underground workshop, that lithography machine was still running. In the new materials laboratory, those young people were still researching the next generation of things.

He recalled the words his father had said back then.

"Running a business is like planting a tree. When you plant it, you don't know if it will survive. If it survives, you don't know if it will grow big. If it grows big, you don't know if it will bear fruit."

Now the tree has grown big and borne fruit.

He stood for a long time.

Then he turned and walked back to his desk.

He opened the computer and began to look at the progress report of the graphene Phase III project.

Outside the window, the city's lights shone as bright as dawn.

Qingming 2021, Li Yaozong returned to his hometown in Henan.

On the slope behind the mountain, three steles stood side by side.

On the far left were Li Laoshi and Madame Wang.

In the middle was Li Ping'an.

On the far right was Lin Xueqing.

Before the steles lay several bouquets of flowers, and also a plate of apples.

Li Yaozong crouched down, pulling out the weeds before the steles one by one until clean.

Then he stood up, gazing at the three steles.

He looked for a while.

He recalled the words his father spoke on his hundredth birthday.

"Chengye, I'm still waiting to hold a great-grandchild."

He recalled the note his mother left before she passed.

"Yaozong, I've gone to find your father. Don't be sad, this was agreed upon."

The wind blew over, carrying the scent of earth.

He stood for a long time.

Then he turned and went down the mountain.

At the foot of the mountain, a car was waiting for him.

In the car, there was a report just received.

Graphene wafers, yield exceeded ninety percent.

Lithography machine, the 7-nanometer prototype test succeeded.

Intelligent driving, L4-level road test passed.

He glanced at it and set the report down.

The car started and drove off into the distance.

Outside the window, the fields receded, the villages receded, the sky receded.

That rear mountain grew ever more distant.

But he knew, it had always been there.

Just like those people, they had always been there.

He closed his eyes.

Sunlight streamed through the car window, falling on his face.

Warm.

Like his father's hand many years ago.

——End of text——