Song Yuzhang: Chapter 16 - Widow
Chapter 16: Widow
The police rescue boat returned from the sea, bringing back many bodies. In no time, the police station was crowded with people coming to identify the deceased, and coffins lined up outside the entrance.
“Fifth Young Master, just give the word, and I'll go look for you. It's a mess inside right now.”
“No need, you wouldn't recognize anyone anyway. Just wait for me in the car.”
Song Yuzhang got out of the car, and the driver watched him longingly. Fifth Young Master was too good-looking—he had already become a star in the eyes of all the Song family's servants.
Wearing a hat and keeping his head down, Song Yuzhang entered the police station. The place was noisy and chaotic; the aftermath of the storm was still rippling through the world, bringing endless grief and wails.
He told the officers he had come to identify a body.
The patrolman asked, “What's the name?”
Song Yuzhang's hand pressed against the brim of his hat, momentarily at a loss for words. He had told the Song family he was coming to check on a few classmates who had returned to the country with him. Making up a name was easy, but it had to match the missing persons list. His gaze fell on the board in the officer's hands, and he said softly, “Surname Zhao.”
The patrolman flipped through two pages, scanned the list, and asked, “Zhao what?”
Zhao what...
Song Yuzhang hadn't expected the officer to be so thorough despite the chaos. Making up a full name that happened to match was pure fantasy. He simply lowered his hand, adjusted the brim of his hat, and revealed most of his face. “Sorry, I only know his English name—Stephen.” He gave the patrolman a sorrowful smile.
The patrolman felt a pang in his heart and quickly said, “My condolences.”
There were too many bodies; the morgue was full, and the hallways were lined with corpses covered in white sheets. The weather was getting warmer, and the stench was unbearable. Song Yuzhang covered his nose with the back of his hand and started inspecting the bodies one by one. The corpses recovered from the sea had bloated, disfigured faces. Song Yuzhang didn’t actually know what the real Young Master Song looked like, so he relied on their clothing, searching for someone dressed like a young master.
However, the unclaimed bodies were mostly dressed in tattered rags. Some were likely stowaways, while others were crew members. They might not even have been from Haizhou, and with no relatives in the city, there was no one to claim them.
If he had died at sea, he might have been among them.
After checking all the bodies, Song Yuzhang found no one resembling a young master. He suspected the officers had stripped valuable items from the bodies before bringing them back. But even so, they wouldn’t have taken the clothes. None of them looked like Young Master Song. Could someone have mistakenly claimed him?
The stench was overwhelming, so Song Yuzhang stepped outside to find the patrolman who had let him in.
“Are all the bodies here?”
“Yeah. Didn't find your friend?”
Song Yuzhang remained silent, grief-stricken.
“Ah, then he might have been lost to the sea.”
That was possible too… Song Yuzhang asked, “What happens to the unclaimed bodies?”
“They stay here for three days. If no one comes, they’ll be buried together in a mass grave.”
Song Yuzhang nodded, feeling an inexplicable shudder, as if he himself was lying among those nameless, abandoned corpses.
If he had died, that would have been his fate as well.
All the more reason to cherish this second life, a life with a name and identity.
“I’ll come back in three days,” he said. “For those who remain unclaimed, I’ll pay for coffins. Please make sure they are properly buried.”
The patrolman was stunned for a moment before asking, “You are?”
Song Yuzhang hesitated before saying, “Song Yuzhang.”
When he left, he carried some money with him. He gave the patrolman a portion as a ‘deposit.’
After finishing his business, he returned to the car. The driver quickly asked, “Fifth Young Master, heading back?”
“Mm, let's go back.”
A trace of the stench had clung to him, and worried it might bother the driver, he rolled down the window slightly to let the air clear it away.
It was the smell of death and decay. It reminded him of the day he went to the police station to identify Xiao Yingtao’s body. She had been shot in the chest, so she was still beautiful—her face pale, her lips bright red, slightly pouted. No matter how old Song Yuzhang had been, she always called him ‘baby’ whenever she spoke.
No one had ever called him ‘baby’ in that affectionate tone again.
Song Yuzhang’s expression remained indifferent, but a vague sense of unease crept over him.
That uneasy feeling had lingered since the police station. At first, he thought it was just his emotions responding to the dead, so he didn’t dwell on it. But the further he got from the station, the more a certain image kept flashing in his mind. That patrolman holding the board—there were two sheets of stark white paper clipped to it, filled with rows of names, the names of the missing.
The board had been held up at an angle before being placed down, and in that brief moment, Song Yuzhang had glanced at it, skimming the Zhao section to steal a name for himself.
What was so unusual about this image?
Why did it keep surfacing in his mind?
As always, Song Yuzhang tucked that instinctive warning into a corner of his mind.
Never overlooking a single detail—perhaps that was his occupational hazard.
He tilted his head back and smiled into the gradually freshening breeze, wondering whether he should change that habit or not.
The young masters of the Song family were all busy, having left early in the morning. Song Yuzhang had left last and returned first, finding the Song estate still quiet. He asked about Meng Sushan, and a maid told him she had gone out to have clothes made.
So, for now, the grand Song estate belonged to him alone.
Song Yuzhang enjoyed solitude, yet he couldn't stand loneliness. But now wasn’t the right time to seek company—he was supposed to be the respectable Fifth Young Master Song. After thinking it over, he finally came up with a suitable place to go.
Unfortunately, he arrived at a bad time—Song Zhenqiao had just finished lunch and gone to sleep.
“Then I'll wait here,” he said.
The nurse blushed and nodded.
Song Yuzhang sat down on the sofa in the hospital room. There were newspapers beside him, so he picked one up. The front-page headline covered the violent storm at sea.
As someone who had experienced it firsthand, Song Yuzhang skipped over the article entirely and flipped to the next page. The second page featured a serialized erotic novel. The author seemed to belong to the same school as those new poets, filling the page with red lips and thighs. However, this one was even bolder, even mentioning white bosoms.
Song Yuzhang had no interest in women in this regard, but that didn’t stop him from reading with great amusement, washing away all his morning’s melancholy.
The serialized story was as short as a mouse’s tail, and it ended right at a critical moment—the widow was about to invite the coachman upstairs!
And then what?
Song Yuzhang spread out the newspaper, his mind wandering. He had no interest in the coachman, as they were usually dark-skinned and rough, not fitting his aesthetic. The widow, though… He chuckled and shook his head. A young widow could certainly be cute, but his preferences lay only with men.
His thoughts drifted to Chen Hanmin. He had no regrets about rejecting him, as he had truly lost interest.
Song Yuzhang knew himself well—Chen Hanmin had only been a pastime for him. He had spent nearly half a year in Anjin, living as virtuously as a monk, and he was simply pent up, looking for someone to satisfy his craving. He had seen that Chen Hanmin was just as frivolous and wouldn't expect any talk of love.
It was just like that young widow—was she really looking for romance with the coachman? No, she simply found him convenient, someone she could dismiss with a single kick when she was done.
That was precisely how Song Yuzhang saw Chen Hanmin.
He didn't feel the least bit heartless or unfaithful—he had been upfront with Chen Hanmin from the start. He was only looking for amusement; he had never lied about love.
As the afternoon approached three o’clock, Song Zhenqiao woke up. He was surprised to find Song Yuzhang there. A few days ago, all his sons had visited together, making such a ruckus that he hadn’t had the chance to properly talk to Song Yuzhang. Now, with a full meal in his belly and his strength somewhat recovered, he leaned back against two soft pillows and began to converse with the son he hadn’t seen in over twenty years.
Before this, Song Yuzhang had already pried some information out of the nurses. They told him that Song Zhenqiao had suffered a stroke, accompanied by a series of minor but tormenting ailments. Although he seemed fine on the surface, his condition was worsening by the day—his time was running out.
At first, Song Yuzhang felt a surge of joy—once Song Zhenqiao died, he would undoubtedly inherit a large sum of money. With that fortune, he could start a new life abroad. Then, naturally, he felt sadness. After all, it was still a human life.
Song Zhenqiao spoke slowly, his words labored from illness. It was difficult for Song Yuzhang to understand him, but he listened patiently. He wanted to gather as much information as possible about the real ‘Song Yuzhang’—the more, the better.
However, to his disappointment, Song Zhenqiao didn’t know much more about ‘Song Yuzhang’ than he did himself.
The two of them had truly been estranged for twenty years. Song Zhenqiao had sent three telegrams before Song Yuzhang reluctantly agreed to return home to see him.
“Yuzhang…” Song Zhenqiao’s murky eyes welled up with tears. “Dad… owes you an apology…”
Song Yuzhang felt a twinge of sorrow.
Indeed, Song Zhenqiao had wronged this son.
If he hadn’t insisted that the young master return to China, perhaps the real Song Yuzhang wouldn’t have drowned in that cold sea.
When he left the hospital room, Song Yuzhang’s mood was still heavy. He let out a deep sigh and thought to himself. “I should burn more paper money for him.”
He stopped by the doctor’s office to ask about Song Zhenqiao’s condition but only received a vague response, which left him disappointed.
He had come to the hospital for two reasons—one, to fulfill his duty as the young master, and two, to gauge how long Song Zhenqiao had left to live. Unfortunately, he hadn’t done particularly well at either.
Feeling a sense of regret, Song Yuzhang stepped out of the hospital’s grand entrance and walked along the colorful cobblestone path.
“Dad, that big brother is really good-looking.”
A voice suddenly reached his ears from behind—it was a little boy’s voice, clear and bright. The boy must have been close by. At first, Song Yuzhang didn’t think much of it. He only took notice because the boy spoke so loudly and crisply.
“He’s wearing a hat, and I can still tell he’s good-looking.”
Hearing this, Song Yuzhang immediately chuckled. It seemed they were talking about him.
He hadn’t heard another voice, so the boy’s father had probably lowered his voice in response, while the boy, unaware of social norms, continued speaking loudly as if talking to himself. Though Song Yuzhang couldn’t hear what the father said, he could guess.
“Am I speaking too loud?”
The boy’s voice was childishly innocent and filled with confusion. Song Yuzhang couldn’t help but laugh. He turned around with a smile, just in time to see a tall, upright man holding a four- or five-year-old boy in his arms.
The man wore a perfectly tailored Chinese tunic suit, with a black fountain pen clipped to his chest. He had an overly formal and stern demeanor, and his face was the epitome of traditional handsomeness. The boy in his arms, who bore a resemblance to him, was lively and adorable, his eyes full of innocence. The contrast between the serious father and the bright-eyed child was strikingly amusing.
Seeing this, Song Yuzhang smiled again. From the moment he turned around, both father and son froze as if caught off guard. Suppressing his laughter, Song Yuzhang looked at the wide-eyed child. “You’re quite good-looking yourself.”
The little boy’s face turned red in an instant. Realizing what had happened, he blushed even more and buried his face against his father’s shoulder.
The man quickly regained his composure. “Apologies. My son is being rude.”
Song Yuzhang shook his head, then, having enjoyed his little moment of amusement, turned and walked away.
----------
If you like my translation, please support me by buying me a coffee:
Previous Chapter | Table of Content | Next Chapter
0 comments: