In Hong Kong, we build a global business empire

Chapter 1017 Arrival in the Capital

Beijing Capital International Airport.

Lin Haoran was unaware of the commotion caused by his purchase of 45 commercial buildings in New York.

As Lin Haoran led Guo Xiaohan and the others down the gangway, the scene before them was just as grand as the last time.

In March, the air in Beijing still carried the chill of winter, a stark contrast to the warm and humid climate of Hong Kong.

Guo Xiaohan instinctively hugged Lin Yaoguang tightly in her arms. The little guy was wrapped in thick swaddling clothes, with only his rosy little face showing, looking around curiously.

After the grand ceremony, Lin Haoran and his entourage left Beijing Capital International Airport in a reception vehicle.

Guo Xiaohan was extremely excited throughout the journey.

The grand welcoming ceremony she had just witnessed left her feeling unsettled for a long time.

After all, Lin Haoran was her husband, and as his wife, she naturally shared in his honors.

The car drove out of the airport and headed towards the city along an ordinary national highway.

At that time, there wasn't a single true highway in the entire capital city.

According to the original historical development, the first true expressway in Beijing was not officially opened to traffic until 1993, which was the Capital Airport Expressway.

This shows that the infrastructure of that era was indeed very backward.

However, Lin Haoran was already used to it.

When he first came to the capital, this road was just like this: full of potholes and dust, with vast stretches of farmland and low-lying villages along the way. Occasionally, a few tractors would chug by, kicking up clouds of yellow smoke.

Guo Xiaohan didn't care about any of that; her attention was entirely focused on the novel things outside the window.

The donkey carts by the roadside, the oxen plowing in the fields, and the smoke rising from the village chimneys—everything about them seemed new and exciting to her.

"Brother Haoran, look, there are people herding sheep over there!" she exclaimed excitedly, pointing out the window like a child who had never seen the world before.

Lin Haoran looked in the direction she was pointing and sure enough, there was a flock of sheep grazing on the edge of the field. The shepherd, wrapped in a military overcoat, followed lazily behind with a whip in his hand.

"Why are you making such a fuss? Haven't you ever seen sheep in Southeast Asia?" Lin Haoran teased with a smile.

“That’s different,” Guo Xiaohan said earnestly. “The sheep in Southeast Asia are different from the sheep here. The sheep here feel more down-to-earth.”

Lin Haoran couldn't help but laugh.

"Down-to-earth" is a good word to use.

From rubber plantations in Southeast Asia to rice paddies in Beijing, from skyscrapers in Hong Kong to factories in the Pearl River Delta, Guo Xiaohan has seen and experienced a great deal over the years following him.

But her inherent simplicity and curiosity have not changed at all.

This is what makes her so endearing, and it's also what Lin Haoran cherishes most about her.

The car continued forward, and the scenery outside the window gradually changed from farmland to low-rise buildings, with more pedestrians and bicycles on the road.

Occasionally, a bus would drive by, its body painted with red and white stripes, and two large gas tanks on its roof, a sign that it used natural gas as fuel.

"Brother Haoran, what's that?" Guo Xiaohan asked, pointing to the air vent on the roof of the bus.

"It's a gas storage tank, used to burn natural gas," Lin Haoran explained. "Gas was expensive back then, so many buses switched to natural gas. It's economical, but the power is a bit weak; it's not as fast as a bicycle when climbing hills."

Guo Xiaohan nodded as if she understood, then looked at it curiously a few more times before looking away.

After about forty minutes, the car finally entered the city.

Guo Xiaohan leaned against the car window, looking at the ancient city with eyes full of wonder.

This was her first time in the capital, and everything was so unfamiliar.

She saw the low-rise buildings on both sides of Chang'an Avenue, the red lanterns hanging on Tiananmen Gate, and the occasional pedestrians walking across the wide square.

"Brother Haoran, Beijing is bigger than I imagined," she said softly.

“Of course, this is the capital of a country!” Lin Haoran said with a smile.

"Look, that's Tiananmen!" Guo Xiaohan exclaimed excitedly, pointing to the Tiananmen Gate Tower outside.

Lin Haoran looked in the direction she was pointing, and there stood the world-famous city gate tower on the north side of Chang'an Avenue, with its red walls and yellow tiles, solemn and majestic.

The huge portrait hanging in the center of the city gate tower was particularly eye-catching in the afternoon sunlight.

"You're from Southeast Asia, so are you familiar with Tiananmen Square?" Lin Haoran asked curiously.

“That’s natural. We Chinese in Southeast Asia all attend Chinese schools, and pictures of Tiananmen Square appear most often in textbooks and picture books.”

Guo Xiaohan's gaze remained fixed on the city gate tower, her voice carrying an indescribable emotion, "When I was little, I often thought that I would like to see Tiananmen Square with my own eyes someday, and today I finally saw it."

Lin Haoran's heart stirred slightly upon hearing her words.

Although the Chinese in Southeast Asia live in foreign lands, their hearts are always with their homeland.

They run Chinese schools, publish Chinese newspapers, and celebrate traditional Chinese festivals, preserving their cultural roots generation after generation.

For them, Tiananmen Square is not just a city gate, but also a spiritual sustenance and a sense of identity.

"Would you like to stop and take a look?" Lin Haoran asked with a smile.

"Yes, yes, I want to!" Guo Xiaohan said excitedly.

"Stop the car," Lin Haoran said to the driver.

The entire convoy slowly pulled over to the side of the road. Although the police cars leading the way were unaware of what had happened, they had clearly received the news and therefore all stopped.

Guards were deployed around the area, and martial law was imposed.

A guard opened the car door for Lin Haoran and saluted him.

Lin Haoran got out of the car first, then reached out and took Lin Yaoguang from Guo Xiaohan's arms. The family of three stood by the roadside, looking up at the city gate that had witnessed countless historical moments.

In March, the wind in Beijing still carried a chill, but the sun shone brightly.

Tiananmen Square was empty and quiet, with only a few pedestrians hurrying by occasionally, and cyclists ringing their bells as they passed by, leaving a series of crisp sounds.

Guo Xiaohan looked at it very carefully, her gaze moving from the red lanterns on the city gate tower to the portrait in the center, and then to the slogans on both sides of the city gate tower.

Her lips moved slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she didn't make a sound.

"What are you thinking about?" Lin Haoran asked.

"It's nothing," Guo Xiaohan shook her head, her voice very soft. "It's just that standing here, I feel a sense of peace that I can't describe, like I've found my roots."

Upon hearing this, Lin Haoran couldn't help but recall a movie from his previous life, "Letters to Grandma." This movie tells the story of Chinese people migrating to Southeast Asia. They left their homes and crossed oceans to settle down and multiply in foreign lands, upholding their language, culture, and traditions generation after generation.

In the film, Xie Nanzhi, an illiterate woman from Southeast Asia, gradually learns to read and write under the guidance of Zheng Musheng, and eventually becomes able to write letters in neat handwriting.

When she taught the children in the private school to recite "I raise my head to gaze at the bright moon, and lower my head to think of my hometown," the most touching legacy was hidden in their tender voices.

Even when living in foreign lands, overseas Chinese have never forgotten that "one must be able to read and write, and one's roots must not be severed," which is also the original aspiration of overseas Chinese language education.

Southeast Asia may be wonderful, but my roots are never there.

For millions of Chinese who left their homes to go to Southeast Asia, their roots are in this land, in the earthen buildings of southern Fujian, in the old houses of Chaoshan, in the ancestral halls of Guangzhou, and in the Hakka walled villages.

Generation after generation, they have passed on this sense of nostalgia through Chinese-language schools, Chinese-language newspapers, and traditional festivals.

Lin Haoran's generation lived in Hong Kong. Although it was during the colonial era, Hong Kong was right next to the mainland, so he could hardly understand the sense of displacement and helplessness that the Chinese in Southeast Asia felt, separated by the sea and unable to return home.

You can take a train from Hong Kong back to the mainland; if you want to go back for a visit, you can go back anytime.

But Southeast Asia is different. It's separated by a vast ocean, and a ship ticket means a journey of ten days to half a month. You can't just go back whenever you want.

Therefore, he understood Guo Xiaohan's feelings at that moment.

This land is where her ancestors left, and it is also the source of her bloodline. Standing here, she feels a sense of coming home. Although she has never lived here, that deep-seated sense of familiarity cannot be erased by time or distance.

After a moment of silence, Lin Haoran said with a smile, "Although you were born in Southeast Asia, your roots are here. This is the land where your ancestors lived, the source of your bloodline. No matter how far you go, you will feel at ease when you return here."

Guo Xiaohan nodded, her eyes slightly red.

She looked down at Lin Yaoguang in Lin Haoran's arms. The little guy was staring at Tiananmen Square with his big, bright eyes, not crying or making a fuss, as if he was also attracted by this solemn building.

“Yaoguang too.” Guo Xiaohan reached out and touched her son’s little face, her voice soft but firm. “No matter where he grows up, he must know that his roots are here.”

Lin Haoran didn't reply, but simply hugged his son even tighter.

The family of three stood by the roadside for a while. Guo Xiaohan took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, turned to Lin Haoran and smiled, "Let's go, we've seen enough."

"Have you really seen enough?" Lin Haoran asked with a smile.

“I’ve seen enough. There’s plenty of time. We can come back another day after we get off the bus.” Guo Xiaohan took his arm.

"Okay, I'll take you up to the city wall when I have time. We just got off the plane, let's go to our accommodations first. Everything has been arranged for us in the capital," Lin Haoran said with a smile.

Going up to the Tiananmen Rostrum was an easy thing for him; after all, given his contributions to the mainland, he certainly had that much face to show for it.

However, today is not the right time. The family of three has been traveling a long way, and the child is still young, so we can't afford to go through all that trouble.

Guo Xiaohan nodded understandingly, took Lin Haoran's arm, and turned back to the car.

The car restarted and continued westward along Chang'an Avenue.

Through the car window, Tiananmen Gate gradually receded from view, but Guo Xiaohan's gaze remained fixed in that direction until the gate completely disappeared from sight before she looked away and leaned on Lin Haoran's shoulder.

"Brother Haoran, do you think I'm being too dramatic?" she asked softly. "I almost cried just from seeing a city gate."

Lin Haoran shook his head and smiled, "It's not being sentimental, it's genuine. When you're far from home, you miss your family even more during festivals."

You grew up in Southeast Asia, listening to your elders tell stories of your homeland since childhood. It's only natural that you have feelings for this land.

Guo Xiaohan didn't say anything more, but buried her face in Lin Haoran's shoulder and rubbed against him.

After about twenty more minutes, the car turned onto a quiet street.

The street is not wide, but the trees on both sides are dense, like two rows of sentries, silently guarding this area.

Through the shadows of the trees, one can see some buildings with blue bricks and gray tiles, nestled among the pines and cypresses, exuding a solemn and mysterious atmosphere.

We've arrived at Diaoyutai State Guesthouse.

The car stopped in front of Fangfei Garden.

This is a three-story building with blue bricks and gray tiles, and upturned eaves, a typical Chinese classical architectural style.

In front of the building is a small stone arch bridge, and under the bridge is a pool of clear water where several koi carp swim leisurely.

On the other side of the bridge, several uniformed staff members were already lined up and waiting.

"Mr. Lin, Madam, welcome to Fangfei Garden." A middle-aged man in a Zhongshan suit stepped forward and said respectfully, "I am the person in charge here, my surname is Zhou. Please feel free to let me know if you need anything."

Lin Haoran nodded. "Thank you for your help."

"No trouble at all, it's my pleasure." Manager Zhou stepped aside to lead the way. "Mr. Lin, Madam, this way please."

Stepping into the small building, you'll find a spacious living room.

Rosewood furniture, carpets, calligraphy and paintings—everywhere exudes the charm of classical China.

A guzheng (Chinese zither) sits in one corner of the living room, and the bookshelf next to it is filled with various books, some in Chinese and some in English.

Fresh fruit and flowers were laid out on the coffee table, and a faint floral fragrance filled the air.

"Mr. Lin, your room is on the second floor. Please follow me." Manager Zhou led Lin Haoran and his family upstairs.

The room was a spacious suite, complete with a living room, bedroom, and study.

The furnishings are the same as downstairs, simple yet elegant.

The most eye-catching feature is the large bed in the bedroom, with exquisite floral and bird patterns carved on the headboard, and the bedding made of fine silk that feels smooth and soft to the touch.

Guo Xiaohan put Lin Yaoguang on the bed, and the little guy immediately rolled over and rolled around on the bed, giggling. He was obviously very satisfied with the soft bed.

"It seems he really likes it here," Guo Xiaohan said with a smile, her fatigue completely gone.

Lin Haoran walked to the window, pushed it open, and a refreshing spring breeze rushed in.

Outside the window is a delicate little garden, where several magnolia trees are already in bud, their white petals glistening in the sunlight.

A few magpies chirped on the branches, adding a touch of life to the tranquil courtyard.

He took a deep breath. The air in Beijing was dry and crisp, with a hint of northern chill, completely different from the warm and humid feeling of Hong Kong.

The last time he came to Beijing, he also stayed at the Diaoyutai State Guesthouse.

After a year and a half, I stayed here again, and the experience was quite good.

While the level of luxury here cannot compare with those international luxury hotels, it possesses a unique charm: the solemn elegance of classical Chinese architecture, the exquisite tranquility of the garden landscape, and a profound sense of history that can only be felt, not described.

Staying here is not just about accommodation; it's also about experiencing a culture and feeling a sense of honor.

Before we knew it, it was evening.

The welcome banquet prepared for him in Beijing was held in a small building specifically for banquets within the Diaoyutai State Guesthouse.

This small building is a bit larger than Fangfei Garden. In front of the gate is a small stone arch bridge, and under the bridge is a pool of clear, flowing water, where several koi carp swim leisurely.

The afterglow of the setting sun spilled onto the water, shimmering with golden light, a breathtaking sight.

On the other side of the bridge, several leaders came out to greet them.

"Mr. Lin, Madam, this way please."

Lin Haoran bowed slightly, took Guo Xiaohan's hand, and walked onto the stone arch bridge.

Guo Xiaohan glanced down at the koi in the pond, then looked up at the upturned eaves of the small building, and was secretly amazed.

The banquet hall is on the first floor. It is not large, but it is decorated very elegantly.

A white tablecloth was laid out on the round table, which was set with exquisite porcelain and tableware.

In the center of the table is a flower arrangement, mainly plum blossoms, with a few branches of red berries from Nandina domestica, arranged in a pleasingly sparse and dense manner, creating a refined and elegant atmosphere.

The leaders have already taken their seats.

Guo Xiaohan sat down with Lin Yaoguang in her arms. The little guy looked around curiously, neither crying nor fussing, appearing very well-behaved.

"This child is so well-behaved," a leader said with a smile. "My grandson, at this age, is never still for a moment."

“Like his mother, quiet.” Lin Haoran smiled and glanced at Guo Xiaohan.

Guo Xiaohan blushed slightly, looked down at her son, and tried to hide her embarrassment.

The dinner party began.

The dishes weren't lavish, but each one was carefully prepared.

Light, refined, and authentic; not extravagant or wasteful.

During the meal, several leaders took turns toasting each other, and Lin Haoran responded to each one, creating a harmonious atmosphere.

The conversation started with the Daya Bay Nuclear Power Plant, then moved on to the power shortage in Guangdong Province, the achievements of the national economic reform and opening up last year, and finally settled on Lin Haoran's investments in the mainland.

More than an hour later, everyone reluctantly left. (End of Chapter)