Chapter Thirty-Eight: It Is the Mountains and Rivers...

"Tiger Ye..."

The entire conference room fell into a profound silence. Every face was etched with a grave expression, their minds drifting back, recalling the sequence of events from those bygone days.

"To think that Tiger Ye is still alive..." someone murmured, their voice thick with nostalgia.

"Tiger Ye... back then, he even saved my life."

"Indeed. No wonder Old Li mentioned earlier that this veteran of the War of Resistance had fought in thousands of battles."

"Thousands? That’s an understatement! Just in Northwest Shanxi alone, he led his Independent Regiment to crack how many impossible nuts? Xinkou, Niangziguan... which one wasn't like pulling teeth from a tiger’s mouth?"

"True enough. Tiger Ye’s Independent Regiment specialized in the toughest, most perilous missions. They were often deep behind enemy lines, isolated and without support. Their record was glorious, yet the casualties were devastating. Much of their history remained classified and was never fully disclosed at the time..."

"I heard that once, when Tiger Ye led his team deep behind enemy lines, he turned the world upside down. The Japanese put a bounty on his head higher than that of several generals! I even heard a certain high-ranking official once jokingly remarked that he should hand Tiger Ye over just because the treasury was empty!"

Many spoke in hushed tones about Ye Yuan’s past exploits. As former subordinates of Ye Yuan, Sun Weiguo and the others sat with faces full of agitation. They had dedicated their entire lives to this nation, and a significant reason for their steadfastness was the influence of Ye Yuan. In his younger years, Ye Yuan was a man who carried the highest of ideals. It was because they followed him and learned from his example that these men were able to persevere through everything.

Just then, Zhang Qun spoke up, interrupting their reminiscence. "Old Li, tell us, how exactly should we confer the rank upon our old commander?"

The elderly man leaning on his cane, Old Li, clearly found himself in a predicament. In ancient times, such achievements would have been considered "merits so great they overshadow the sovereign." Although those days had long passed, deciding on Ye Yuan’s rank remained a daunting task. He looked up at Wu Shanhe. "Old Wu, why don't we go with your suggestion—confer the rank of General?"

"I’m just a retired old man; why ask me about these things?" Wu Shanhe waved his hand, declining to offer input.

Old Li, feeling helpless, looked to the others. However, they all acted as if they hadn't heard him. This matter was under Old Li’s purview, and the final decision rightfully rested with him. After hesitating for a long time, Old Li finally spoke in a low voice, "Then, General it is!"

"That’s more like it." Zhang Qun burst into laughter. "That Crippled Zhao actually wanted to confer the rank of Senior Colonel on our old commander—who is he trying to insult?"

Sun Weiguo couldn't help but chuckle as well. It was worth the trip he and Zhang Qun had made.

The matter had finally reached a satisfactory conclusion.

...

The next morning, Ye Yuan was in his small garden, tending to the flower seedlings he had planted. Ye Yan'an and Yanzi were sitting on a swing Ye Yuan had nailed together for them, swaying gently. Listening to the crisp laughter of the two little girls, Ye Yuan felt a deep sense of contentment.

The nation was not destroyed, the mountains and rivers remained, and the years were peaceful. He had once pondered how long it would take for this country to rise again and become prosperous. His estimate had been a hundred years. Yet, in reality, it had taken only fifty, and his country had already re-emerged, taking its seat at the table of world powers.

As Ye Yuan was lost in thought, a car pulled up outside. He turned to see Cong Gui hurrying toward him.

"Chief, are you that idle? Why do you keep coming here every day?" Ye Yuan teased with a smile.

But Cong Gui had no time for banter. He looked at Ye Yuan with excitement. "Old hero, that medallion you gave me yesterday—I took it to a local appraisal center. Do you know what it is?"

Ye Yuan was taken aback, only then realizing Cong Gui was referring to the token the village head had given him. Judging by Cong Gui’s demeanor, it seemed the item was no simple trinket.

"What is it?" Ye Yuan asked.

"Gold! It’s a gold medal!" Cong Gui exclaimed. He had been stunned when he first heard the news. He had suspected the item might be valuable, but he never imagined it was solid gold. Though the ancient casting process hadn't been perfect, resulting in a purity less than 99.9%, it was a genuine gold medal nonetheless. Most importantly, its historical significance far outweighed its material value.

"Isn't gold supposed to be golden? That medallion is black," Ye Yuan asked curiously.

"It was coated in a layer of refined ink, so even scrubbing it with a brush wouldn't reveal the truth, but the instrument analysis confirmed it is gold," Cong Gui continued. "The medal is quite old. The experts at the appraisal center weren't certain about its origins, so I’ve entrusted someone to send it to the provincial capital. It will probably take some time to get a final result."

"I see. Sorry for the trouble," Ye Yuan said with a light smile.

Cong Gui was stunned. Ye Yuan’s composure actually made him feel less agitated. "Old hero, how are you not excited at all? That’s a large piece of gold. Not just in the county, but even in the provincial capital, that could buy an entire house."

"If it truly has historical value, then it should go to a museum," Ye Yuan said softly. "Rather than selling it, it is better to let more people see it."

Cong Gui’s expression turned solemn; his reverence for Ye Yuan reached an even higher level. Previous notions of power, status, and fame were all superficial, and it was understandable that Ye Yuan cared nothing for them. But this—a piece of gold that was potentially an antique—could not move Ye Yuan, who even suggested donating it directly. He had never truly believed anyone could treat wealth like dirt, but Ye Yuan had done just that. He asked himself, and he knew he could not have made the same decision.

Suddenly, Ye Yuan heard the telephone ringing inside the house.

"Wait a moment," Ye Yuan said, turning to walk back inside to answer the phone.

"Hello, Old Commander, it’s me and Old Sun," came Zhang Qun’s excited voice.

Ye Yuan smiled. "It seems things went well?"

"Too well!" Zhang Qun replied without hesitation. "Do you know what rank they finally decided to confer upon you?"

"What is it?"

"General." Zhang Qun’s tone was filled with pride. "You are going to be a General!"

Ye Yuan fell silent. He had guessed as much. Yet, he felt he was unworthy of the honor. The victory in the War of Resistance was the result of countless comrades who had fallen one after another. Who was he, Ye Yuan, to step over the corpses of his brothers-in-arms to sit in such a position?

Zhang Qun sensed the shift in Ye Yuan’s mood and quickly added, "Old Commander, there is someone else who wants to speak with you."

A few seconds later, an aged, trembling voice came through the receiver. "Commander..."

Ye Yuan paused, then gave a gentle smile.

"Is that you, Shanhe..."