Undercurrent surges, original intention is the anchor
In late autumn in Geneva, the lake shimmered with a cool gray-blue sheen. The atmosphere in Li Xiaoyu's hotel suite was a stark contrast to the tranquility outside. Confidential documents from various sources lay spread out on the coffee table, like red-hot irons, scorching the nerves of everyone present.
"Secretary-General Li, this is the latest letter of intent from the Global Development Fund," said Van de Velde, Chief Legal Counsel for Europe, pushing a beautifully bound document towards her, his brow furrowed. "The terms are incredibly generous—five years, €500 million, and unconditional support for our project expansion in Central Asia and the Caucasus."
Liu Jian picked up the document, glanced through it quickly, and gasped. "This...this is almost ten times our annual budget in Europe! What are they trying to achieve?"
"What's their goal?" Van der Velde sneered, pulling out another thin memo. "Take a look at their board of directors and the capital connections behind them. This so-called 'charitable' foundation has close ties with certain Western intelligence agencies and energy giants. Their goal in Central Asia has never been charity, but geopolitical influence."
Almost immediately, Li Xiaoyu's encrypted communication line lit up, and Zhang Wei's anxious voice rang out: "Sister Xiaoyu, we're also feeling pressure back home. Someone 'higher up' is hinting that they want us to stop our 'sensitive project' in X17 (a resource-rich but sensitive Central Asian country), saying it's for 'greater strategic cooperation'..."
When the purity of public welfare encounters the undercurrent of geopolitics, there may be invisible ropes hidden behind every piece of "goodwill".
Li Xiaoyu walked to the window and gazed at the distant silhouette of the United Nations Palais des Nations. Just yesterday, she had been there, enthusiastically introducing the foundation's philosophy of "borderless, non-judgmental" psychological assistance. Now, she felt a massive, invisible force pressing in from all sides, attempting to twist her and the cause she championed into another shape.
"And this," Liu Jian said grimly, turning his tablet toward her. On the screen was a recently published in-depth report from an influential international media outlet, with a glaring headline: "Charity or Infiltration? Analyzing China's Strategic Ambitions Behind 'Lighthouse of the Soul'." The article, seemingly objective, used innuendo and misdirection throughout, distorting the foundation's cultural adaptation efforts in Southeast and Central Asia into a carefully orchestrated campaign of "cultural soft power export" and "values penetration."
The comment section of the report has been flooded with offensive comments with various preconceived views. To make matters worse, two major European private foundations have officially notified that they will "re-evaluate" their cooperation with them.
"This is an organized smear!" Liu Jian punched the armrest of the sofa in anger.
"Anger won't solve the problem," Li Xiaoyu turned around, her voice unusually calm, but her eyes sharp as a knife. "We're now at a crossroads. On one side are huge sums of money with chains and the 'smoothness' that comes with compromise. On the other side is the lonely road of sticking to principles, but it can be difficult to move forward."
She picked up the €500 million letter of intent and weighed it carefully. "With €500 million, how many 'spiritual stations' could be built? How many 'lighthouses' could be trained? How many patches of darkness could be illuminated? The temptation is too great."
The room was completely silent, and everyone could hear their own heartbeats. This amount of money was enough to instantly expand the foundation's size and accomplish many of their dreams.
The heavier the weight of temptation, the higher the cost of sticking to your original intention.
That night, Li Xiaoyu lay awake. She sat alone in the living room, a thick, yellowed notebook before her—a manuscript in which Mo Xiaoyu had written about the foundation's original aspirations and core principles. She repeatedly read a passage circled in red:
"We help others because they need help, not because of who they are or what they can bring to us. Once our hands are stained with politics and our hearts stray from humanity, all the 'help' we provide will lose its most precious value - purity."
As dawn approached, she connected a video call with Cuttlefish. Cuttlefish, on the other side of the screen, seemed to have anticipated her predicament and was leisurely pruning a pot of asparagus fern in the morning light.
"Teacher, we encountered..."
"I know." Without even looking up, Cuttlefish carefully cut off a dead branch. "When branches grow too fast, it's easy to forget you're a bamboo and always want to cling to something. Remember, those who can be easily bound or defeated by interests are never truly strong."
She put down the scissors and looked at the camera with a deep gaze: "Xiaoyu, do you remember why we named our first project 'Lighthouse'?"
"Because the lighthouse illuminates the channel, regardless of the ship's nationality or direction."
"Then do what a lighthouse should do."
Moyu's words were like a breeze that cleared away the fog, and Li Xiaoyu's mind suddenly became clear.
The next day, she made a series of decisions that shocked both the team and the outside world:
First, she formally and publicly rejected the €500 million donation from the Global Development Foundation, citing "strategic inconsistencies." In her reply, she explicitly stated, "The Foundation's stance is always based on universal humanity and professional ethics, and is not affiliated with any particular political or geopolitical interest group."
Second, she immediately launched an independent international media communications plan. Instead of passively defending herself, she proactively invited several internationally recognized organizations, including the media outlet that published the allegations, to visit the foundation's project sites around the world (including in the X17 countries), shared all non-sensitive information, and used transparency to counter suspicion.
Third, the supplementary clauses of the "Foundation's Ethical Charter of Conduct" were issued internally, which clearly stipulate: it is prohibited to accept any donations with political purposes or that may affect professional independence; all project decisions must be based on needs assessment and professional judgment, and are strictly prohibited from being influenced by geopolitical factors.
These decisions caused a huge internal upheaval. A senior director flew to Geneva overnight and angrily addressed Li Xiaoyu, saying, "Xiaoyu! You're too impulsive! We'll lose so much! Survival in the international arena sometimes requires compromise!"
"Compromise?" Li Xiaoyu looked at him, her eyes clear and firm. "The first time we bowed our heads for the 'greater good,' we lost the most precious thing—our original intention. Without it, even if we owned the whole world, we would no longer be the 'beacon' that illuminates the darkness."
Once the boundaries of principles are breached, it will be like a dam with ants appearing, and it will eventually collapse before the torrent of interests.
Her resoluteness ultimately stabilized the team's morale. Even more unexpectedly, the foundation's unfashionable tenacity and near-paranoid purity have earned the respect of many international partners who truly respect professionalism and independence.
The media outlet that published the article, after sending reporters to conduct an on-site investigation, actually followed up with a relatively objective report. Although it still contained criticism, the title had changed to "Stick to Professionalism in the Political Vortex: The Lonely Perseverance of a Chinese Charity Organization."
The project in Country X17 successfully advanced despite pressure and interference, becoming a model for mental health services in the region. A local community elder receiving support told Li Xiaoyu through an interpreter, "We know who is truly helping us and who is exploiting us. You didn't come with a map telling us where the river should flow. Instead, you helped us clean up the river so that our own water can flow more freely."
The storm gradually subsided. At the subsequent debriefing meeting, Li Xiaoyu said the following to the global core team:
"This experience has taught us that the road to globalization is anything but smooth. We will always face various undercurrents, both visible and invisible. These undercurrents may disguise themselves as opportunities, packaged as goodwill, or even cloaked in the guise of prioritizing the greater good. However, the more we face these challenges, the more we must, like a beacon, firmly anchor our original aspirations—caring for people, upholding our expertise, and pursuing purity. This is the wick that will never go out for us."
She walked to the world map in the conference room, on which the foundation's project sites were scattered like stars.
"We want to let the world know that the light of the 'spiritual beacon' may be faint, but it is always pure. It is not meant to guide a specific direction, but to tell everyone sailing in the dark night: You are not alone, there is light."
The meeting ended and everyone left. Li Xiaoyu stood alone in front of the map, her gaze determined. She knew the challenges ahead would only grow more numerous and complex, but as long as the beacon of her original aspiration remained burning brightly in her heart, they would be able to find their way forward amidst any undercurrent.
“When we sacrifice principles in order to ‘do good,’ the ‘good’ itself has become tainted.”
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