Reborn To Dominate Technology

A black Audi A6 glided onto East Street, its four interlocked rings catching the afternoon sun. Tourists milling around the hutong district—only a few blocks from the Forbidden City—stopped, pointed, and murmured.

"Is that an A6?"

"Looks bigger than the A4 my cousin drives!"

"Yeah, I saw it on Weibo yesterday. It's way more imposing in person."

Heifeng eased the sedan up to an otherwise ordinary gray-brick courtyard. Two quick beeps, and the wooden gate swung inward. Inside, Grandma Ye was waiting, silver hair swept into a neat bun, eyes twinkling.

"Oh, my little darlings are finally here!" she sang. Behind Heifeng, Ye Lingzhi, and Bai Yue piled out of the back seat, their travel fatigue dissolving at the sight of her.

"Grandma!" the trio chorused.

"And you, young man," she scolded, giving Heifeng a playful glare, "took your sweet time visiting. Forgot you still have a grandma?"

Heifeng surrendered at once, looping an arm through hers. "Busy launching cars, Grandma. I bolted here the moment I could. Honest!"

Her expression softened. "Hmph. Still know how to sweet-talk. Come in, come in." She jerked a thumb toward the house. "Your grandpa uncorked that Shaoxing rice wine he's been hiding—says he won't drink it unless you're here to toast with him."

Right on cue, Grandpa Ye—straight-backed despite his years—stepped onto the stone path. "Bringing contraband again, kid?" he teased, noting the amber-sealed bottle in Heifeng's hand. "Nu'er Hong? You do remember what old men like!"

Heifeng grinned. "Only the best for you, Grandpa."

The living-room table was a battlefield of nostalgia: braised pork belly glossy with sauce, crispy Beijing duck, stir-fried river shrimp, even Grandma's legendary eight-treasure rice. More than twenty dishes filled the air with childhood aromas.

"Wash those hands first," Grandma ordered, but her smile betrayed delight when Heifeng inhaled exaggeratedly—"Grandma, I've missed this smell!"—and sprinted to the basin.

Dinner dissolved into laughter, clinking chopsticks, and Grandpa's booming toasts. Afterward, the women commandeered the kitchen, while Heifeng followed Grandpa outside to the moon-lit yard where the A6 waited.

"So this is the new model your company just unveiled?" Grandpa ran a weathered palm along the door, curiosity warming his tone. Cars had never interested him—Hongqi limousines were mere tools of protocol—yet the Audi's clean lines drew him in. He settled into the rear seat, sighing at the supple leather. "Comfort beats that Hongqi C-class by a mile."

The knowing glint in Heifeng's eyes didn't escape him. "Out with it," Grandpa said, arms crossed. "What favor are you angling for?"

"Heh… Grandpa is as sharp as ever." Heifeng cleared his throat and explained Audi's predicament: international prestige gained, but domestic cachet lagging. He wanted to donate ten flagship A8s to central government leaders—free of charge—so the nation could see it in luxury sedans ferrying the country's top decision-makers.

Grandpa's brows shot up. "Audacious, aren't you? Leaders aren't chess pieces you can place wherever convenient."

"That's why I'm here begging for help," Heifeng admitted. "Audi is a state enterprise—every bit of visibility convinces our people they don't have to look overseas for excellence."

Grandma shuffled over, wiping her hands on an apron. "Old man, the child's right. Patriotic, even. Lend him a hand."

Grandpa rubbed his temples, muttering that grandchildren were nothing but trouble. Finally, he exhaled. "Fine. I'll knock on a few doors. Success isn't mine to promise, but I'll try." He pocketed the dossier Heifeng had prepared, summoned his driver, and commandeered the A6—"Might as well give it a proper field test"—before roaring off toward Zhongnanhai.

The house fell quiet. With nothing to do but wait, Heifeng brewed tea for Grandma, listened to her recount stories of his mischievous childhood, and forced himself not to glance at his phone every two minutes.

Twilight deepened into night before headlights swept the courtyard again—but it wasn't Grandpa's. A government-issue Hongqi stopped outside, and Uncle Ye Guohua and Aunt Fang Peiru stepped out, fresh from a ministry reception.

There's an old saying that nephews resemble their uncles; side by side, the family likeness was uncanny. "Uncle, Aunt," Heifeng greeted, receiving fond pats on the shoulder.

Grandpa still hadn't returned, yet nerves yielded to quiet confidence. The old veteran's network ran deep; if anyone could secure an audience with the country's top brass on short notice, it was him. For now, Heifeng could only trust—and be ready with ten gleaming A8s the moment the phone rang.

The courtyard lanterns flickered, casting warm pools of light on ancient gray bricks, on a brand-new A6 gleaming black as obsidian, and on a young man poised between past and future, waiting for the doors of power and destiny to open.