Song Yuzhang: Chapter 18 - Retrieving the Body
Chapter 18: Retrieving the Body
With the check in his pocket and the money in his hand, Song Yuzhang walked back slowly, soon sensing that something was off.
Sociology—indeed, he hadn’t studied it for a single day. His schooling had ended at fourteen. After Xiao Yingtao died, he never truly attended another day of school. The chaotic world became his classroom.
When it came to human weaknesses, Song Yuzhang possessed an extraordinary sensitivity. He could easily untangle complex and entangled relationships. It was both his talent and his weapon.
Surviving and making a living in turbulent times required more than just a handsome face. In fact, Song Yuzhang had rarely relied on his looks. He liked pretty boys, but he didn’t like being one himself.
“Heading straight back, or should I take you around for a bit?”
“Let's go back,” Song Yuzhang set the briefcase down at his feet. “I’m a little tired.”
Song Mingzhao let out an ‘oh.’ “Makes sense, you're still recovering.”
Song Yuzhang smiled slightly. “Fourth Brother, you don’t have to worry about me.”
“How can you say that? Eldest and Second Brother are always busy at the bank, and as for Third Brother, who knows where he’s off playing around. That leaves just us two younger ones—shouldn’t we look out for each other?”
Song Yuzhang didn’t answer, but the faint smile on his face clearly showed his agreement.
Looking out for each other, indeed. Not long after dropping Song Yuzhang home, Song Mingzhao drove off again. Standing by the window, Song Yuzhang watched as his car disappeared down the wide road, his deep gaze flickering. The restlessness he had barely managed to suppress with the thought of ‘settling down’ began to churn again.
The Song family was like a vast dynasty, governed by its own delicate balance.
With Song Zhenqiao gravely ill in the hospital, the eldest and second brothers showcased their skills at the bank. The third brother was an elusive figure, and the fourth was just an afterthought.
Each of them had their own place in the family. Though not equally powerful, the waters had remained calm.
But that peace had now been disrupted by an external force.
And that force was him—Song Yuzhang.
When he asked Song Jincheng for money, it was merely because he feared that the loose change in his drawer wouldn’t be enough for handling matters at the police station in a few days. He had only been struck by the immense wealth of the Song family; he never expected that a single thin check would set off such a chain reaction.
Within this chain of events, he keenly sensed that his position was shifting.
Certainly, as an outsider, he was their common enemy. But the moment one of them showed goodwill toward him—or if he himself favored a particular brother—the careful balance that had held everything together would instantly crumble.
He had become an extra weight on the Song family’s scale. Wherever he landed, that side would gain leverage.
Song Yuzhang let out a deep breath. From his blood to his flesh, from his tendons to his bones, tiny sparks ignited within him.
Temptation.
A strong temptation lay before him.
Wealth, power, sin…
He pressed his palm against his chest and stumbled back onto the large bed as if he were drunk. The crystal chandelier above still shimmered dazzlingly even in the daylight. Squinting, he raised his wrist to glance at the expensive watch—a watch worth more than an average person’s lifetime supply of food.
These things were never meant to belong to him.
One shouldn’t be too greedy, he told himself.
But… why shouldn’t one be greedy?
Was Xiao Yingtao destined to be a whore from birth? Was he, Song Yuzhang, destined to be the bastard child of a whore?
Who cared?
In this world, wasn’t everyone selling something to gain something else?
Damn it, they were all whores! No one had the right to act righteous!
But… having taken on someone else’s identity was already a windfall. Escaping death was a miracle. Shouldn’t he be grateful? Take the money he got and live a peaceful, comfortable life? Was it really so hard to suppress his scheming heart?
His chest tightened, rising and falling in waves. Finally, he let out a feeble laugh and muttered, “A dog can’t stop itself from eating shit.”
After nightfall, the four Song brothers gathered again, though one was missing—Song Qiyuan, who was originally part of this little faction.
The seating at the dinner table was arranged by seniority. Across from Song Yuzhang, with Song Jincheng and his wife between them, was Song Mingzhao.
Though he was usually talkative, Song Mingzhao barely spoke while eating. The eldest and second brothers carried the air of family heads—stern, silent, and full of authority. The only warm presence was Meng Sushan, but since she and Song Yuzhang were of opposite genders, she hesitated to engage him in conversation.
Thus, the dinner was quiet—not a comfortable silence, but one filled with undercurrents, a pretense of harmony masking hidden discord.
Song Yuzhang found himself surprisingly at ease within this falsehood. He almost enjoyed it.
After the meal, the atmosphere in the hall became more relaxed. The dishes were cleared away, tea was served, but the gathering still felt like a formal meeting. Song Jincheng and Song Yekang conversed in turn, every word polished and elegant, yet filled with unspoken implications. It was exhausting just to listen. At the same time, Song Yuzhang was itching to take part.
He took a sip of tea, suppressing his urge.
Just as he set his cup down, a maid stepped forward to refill it. He blocked her with the back of his hand and smiled gently, his eyes curving slightly.
Understanding his intent, the maid blushed and withdrew the teapot.
“Fifth Brother,” Song Jincheng called. Song Yuzhang had just taken ten thousand from him today, so he respectfully replied, “Eldest Brother, what is it?”
Holding a teacup in one hand and resting the other on his chair, Song Jincheng smiled. “I heard you went to see Father today.”
At his words, Song Yekang and Song Mingzhao both turned their eyes toward him.
Unfazed, Song Yuzhang nodded. “Things were too chaotic the other day, and I didn’t get to speak with Father properly. So, I made a special trip to see him today.”
Song Jincheng said, “Father's health is poor and he needs rest. The bank keeps me and the second brother too busy to spare time, and as for the fourth brother, he has his studies. The third brother—well, there's no need to mention him; no one knows what he’s busy with all day. Now that you're back, it's just as well. A father and son who haven’t seen each other in twenty years must have plenty to talk about. You can help us fulfill our filial duties too.”
Song Yuzhang replied, “We didn’t talk much. Father was asleep the whole time.”
Song Jincheng smiled slightly. “Yes, the hospital said he should rest as much as possible.”
“I’ll be mindful not to disturb Father’s rest in the future.”
“Don't misunderstand, that’s not what I meant.”
“I understand my eldest brother’s good intentions,” Song Yuzhang’s gaze slowly swept over the three of them. Though Song Yekang and Song Mingzhao hadn't spoken, he still made his stance clear and sincerely said, “I know to appreciate kindness when it’s shown to me.”
Hearing this, the three brothers each had their own thoughts.
Song Jincheng mused, This is a small but annoying problem. He’ll have to go back to England eventually. Before Father passes, we’ll find a way to give him some money and send him off.
Song Yekang thought, The eldest brother changes his stance quickly. He was the first to want to get rid of him, but now that he sees Father favoring the fifth brother, he wants to take advantage of the situation. He’s not the only smart one in this family.
Song Mingzhao, on the other hand, was just pleased—Haha, I chose the right watch!
The three elder brothers all looked at their beautiful little brother, each convinced that the ‘kindness’ he acknowledged referred to themselves, while the ‘harm’ referred to someone else.
The gathering was harmonious on the surface, each party harboring their own motives and getting what they wanted.
On the third day, as arranged with the police, Song Yuzhang woke up earlier than usual. Coincidentally, he missed running into his brothers and had breakfast alone in the dining hall. Just as he was about to leave, he bumped into Song Qiyuan, who had just returned.
Yawning, Song Qiyuan smelled of perfume and smoke, his hair a messy tousle. He looked like he had been up all night.
“Third Brother,” Song Yuzhang greeted him.
Without lowering his hand from his yawn, Song Qiyuan lazily responded with a nonchalant ‘Mm,’ pulled out a chair, and told a servant, “Get me a bowl of noodles from the kitchen.”
“Yes, Third Young Master.”
Song Yuzhang remained standing. “I’m heading out, Third Brother.”
Song Qiyuan finished yawning and lowered his hand, his drowsy eyes lifting slightly as he gave a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “I don’t make the rules in this house. You don’t need to inform me of anything. Just treat me as a useless idler.”
Song Yuzhang smiled. “Then rest well, Third Brother.”
Song Qiyuan looked him over again. Over the past couple of days, Song Yuzhang had noticeably recovered—his complexion glowing, his presence radiant. Running a hand through his messy hair, Song Qiyuan grinned. “You too. Don’t work yourself to exhaustion. You barely escaped death—be careful your body doesn’t give out.”
His words were hardly pleasant, but Song Yuzhang listened with a smile. “Thank you for your advice, Third Brother.”
Of all his brothers, the one who displayed his hostility most openly was Song Qiyuan, which made him the one Song Yuzhang was most wary of.
This was a truly intelligent man—one that wouldn’t be easy to deal with.
Suppressing his own eager ambitions, Song Yuzhang silently chanted ‘Amitabha’ during the carriage ride, thinking about the young Master Song who had given him a new lease on life…
He had experienced plenty of money and affection before, so they didn’t feel particularly rare to him. But life—this was different. Aside from Xiao Yingtao, it was Young Master Song who had given him a second chance at life. In a way, he supposed Young Master Song could be considered his second mother… Shaking his head at the absurdity of his own thoughts, he couldn’t help but chuckle.
By the time he reached the police station, it was much quieter than before. When he inquired about the officer he was supposed to meet, someone replied, “The owner from the Meng family is here. Brother Tian is inside talking with him.”
Something stirred in Song Yuzhang’s mind, and just as he was about to speak, two figures emerged from the hallway. The one in front was tall, dressed in a long tunic, with cropped hair, sharp brows, and an aloof demeanor. He looked more approachable without a smile than with one. “Then I'll leave this matter to you,” the man said.
“Of course, Mr. Meng, rest assured… Ah, Fifth Young Master! You’ve come at just the right time—”
Meng Tingjing paused mid-step, his sharp eyes lifting. His gaze swept through the dim, noisy room before landing precisely on Song Yuzhang.
Song Yuzhang was already smiling. Seeing Meng Tingjing’s gaze land on him, he smiled even wider.
“Fifth Young Master, what perfect timing. With both of you gentlemen here—both good men—I can’t possibly take payment twice for a burial. Between what you gave a few days ago and what Mr. Meng provided today, it’s just enough. Those poor souls are truly lucky to have met you both—getting a proper burial is a blessing in itself.”
Hearing this, Song Yuzhang understood immediately—Meng Tingjing had come today to do exactly what he had done.
“Alright, you handle it then,” Meng Tingjing said to the officer beside him. “We're only providing money. The real merit belongs to you, for taking care of everything firsthand.”
“Mr. Meng, you’re too kind…”
Meng Tingjing exchanged a few more polite words, and with both money and gratitude received, the officer went off to take care of the bodies.
Meng Tingjing kept his eyes on the hallway, ignoring Song Yuzhang, though he remained acutely aware of him in his peripheral vision. Strange, he thought. Why is this man so quiet today? Fine, let’s see what he’s up to. I’ll just wait and observe.
“Brother Meng.”
Meng Tingjing nearly laughed. Couldn’t hold out after all. Acting on impulse, he allowed a smirk to form as he glanced at Song Yuzhang. His expression carried disdain, curiosity, and a touch of scrutiny. Song Yuzhang’s face was breathtakingly beautiful, an ever-shifting mask of emotions. One couldn't help but try to decipher its meaning.
But today—at this moment—there was no mask. His expression was clear, soft, and unmistakably filled with gratitude. “Thank you,” Song Yuzhang said sincerely.
Meng Tingjing was caught off guard.
He wasn’t thanking him for the burial of others. He was thanking him for the burial of himself.
Since witnessing the aftermath of the tragedy at sea, Song Yuzhang had been haunted by the thought that, had he truly perished, his fate would have been the same as those lost souls—wrapped in a straw mat, discarded in an unmarked grave, forgotten.
How pitiful.
So pitiful that he often dreamed of it—of lying alone in a field, the earth his mattress, the sky his blanket, his body crawling with insects, devoured until nothing remained.
But now he knew: even if he had died, someone would have given him a proper burial, a coffin, a dignified resting place.
Meng Tingjing remained silent, a strange discomfort creeping over him under Song Yuzhang’s tender gaze. A heat spread across his back, an itch ran through his bones. He resisted the urge to shift his shoulders or roll his neck. Coldly, he said, “What are you thanking me for?”
Song Yuzhang smiled—a clean, unguarded smile. “For the coffin,” he said.
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