Song Yuzhang: Chapter 30 - Trouble
Chapter 30: Trouble
At fourteen, Song Yuzhang got his first ‘girlfriend.’ At sixteen, he fell in love with a boy. At eighteen, he had his first taste of carnal pleasures. After that, he charged ahead without looking back, embarking on his debauched journey. He didn’t have an overwhelming number of lovers, but there were at least a dozen—each of them handsome young men. Some were gentle, others arrogant, but when it came to Song Yuzhang, they all, without exception, gradually became submissive.
Song Yuzhang knew he was beautiful. Though he didn’t flaunt it arrogantly, he had indeed grown used to being adored because of it.
He had never encountered someone like Meng Tingjing before—moody, hot-tempered, and quick to turn hostile.
Even someone as volatile as Nie Yinbing had treated him with nothing but gentleness and obedience before they fell out.
Song Yuzhang wasn’t exactly furious; he just found the situation rather laughable.
He had only wanted to try something new—how had it ended up like this? It was starting to feel like he was the one being sampled for a change.
Song Yuzhang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Still, he wasn’t particularly panicked. After all, he was a man, not some delicate maiden. The last time he’d fled in embarrassment was already shameful enough. Besides, Meng Tingjing seemed like a naive fledgling. If it came down to it, who would end up hurting whom wasn’t so certain. It wasn’t just about brute force—it took skill. Meng Tingjing was still far too inexperienced.
Song Yuzhang gave Meng Tingjing a faint smile. “If you care about me, why are you still tying me up?”
Meng Tingjing patted his cheek again. “That’s how I show I care.”
“Oh?” Song Yuzhang said leisurely. “Afraid that if you untie me…” His lashes lifted flirtatiously, eyes gleaming with amusement. “You won’t be able to keep me down?”
“You're trying to provoke me?” Meng Tingjing said calmly, then gave a cold laugh. “Fine, I'll take your provocation today.”
Song Yuzhang was the calmest person Meng Tingjing had ever seen in front of him. No matter what he did, Song Yuzhang always seemed to handle it with ease, keeping that casual and composed air about him.
Fine. Today he was going to make this man yield—whether it was through beating him into submission or screwing him into it, one way or another, Song Yuzhang would end up in tears, admitting defeat!
Just imagining that ever-smiling Song Yuzhang shedding twisted, tearful sobs made Meng Tingjing excited. He hadn’t felt this kind of thrill in a long time. Money? He had more than enough. Power? In the Meng family, if he so much as stomped a foot, everyone from the patriarch to the concubines would tremble. There really were no more challenges. At twenty-four, it was time to find some new amusement.
Meng Tingjing swiftly and roughly untied the necktie binding Song Yuzhang’s wrists and flung it aside. He took a step back, raised his fists in a boxer’s stance, and motioned enthusiastically, “Come on!”
Regaining his freedom, Song Yuzhang first adjusted his position from kneeling to half-reclining. His long legs stretched comfortably against the soft bed, giving a little bounce. He slowly rotated his wrists to relieve the pain from being tied too tightly.
That sight caused Meng Tingjing, who had been ready to go all out, to freeze in place. He assumed Song Yuzhang was just relaxing before making a sudden move.
Like last time at the villa, when he’d let his guard down and got ambushed.
But Song Yuzhang didn’t make a move. He just continued rolling his wrists, raised his face, and smiled lightly. “Didn’t you say you wanted to pamper me? What are you waiting for?”
Meng Tingjing didn’t budge. His entire body was burning—with rage, with lust—he wasn’t even sure anymore. Maybe it was both, charging toward this man in tandem.
Still, he didn’t pounce. Something about the scene felt wrong—very wrong.
Song Yuzhang's smirk deepened as he softly said, “What, scared now?”
Meng Tingjing remained frozen, tension stiffening every muscle.
This wasn't right.
Something was definitely off.
Song Yuzhang’s reaction was completely different from what he’d expected—calm, unruffled, and still utterly in control. Whereas he himself was on the verge of losing it, hyped up and barely keeping it together.
The contrast suddenly snapped something into place for Meng Tingjing. What the hell was he even doing?
He stood rigid, his mind spinning as memories from the past month flooded in—how he’d been entranced from the moment they met at sea, how he couldn't bring himself to make a move, and how just days ago he’d flown into a rage, setting up a massive net to trap this man.
So much rage, so much loss of control.
A giant trap just to catch a worthless con man and toy with him for a bit?
Meng Tingjing shivered violently.
He realized the way he looked right now—was downright unfamiliar and repulsive. But not completely unfamiliar—part of him looked like a smaller version of Old Master Meng, another part resembled the early mold of Meng Sushan.
This wasn’t someone looking for fun anymore.
This was a man about to fall into a trap—about to sink into ruin.
His eyes darkened as he stared at the smiling Song Yuzhang lying on the bed, and his earlier excitement slowly dissipated.
Pretty bones painted in rouge—flesh over white skeleton.
And what if he did do it? It could very well be the first step to being tamed into a slave.
For a fleeting moment, Meng Tingjing even had the urge to kill.
A disaster like this—killing it was the only right path.
But if he killed him… wasn’t that just another form of surrender? A coward’s way of erasing temptation?
Was he, Meng Tingjing, really incapable of even handling this?
Meng Tingjing slowly lowered his hands, then looked over Song Yuzhang from head to toe with a cold and discerning gaze—from that shameless smile to those long, elegant legs—and admitted to himself: Yes, Song Yuzhang really was breathtaking.
But no matter how beautiful, it was just a shell—maybe a bit craftier, a bit more exciting, but in essence, no different from the other temptations he had already refused.
He wouldn’t let anyone or anything lead him by the nose—neither external temptations nor his own desires could sway him or strip him of his identity.
He should be cut from a different cloth than his father or his sister—not swayed by lust, not trapped by emotion.
Meng Tingjing withdrew his gaze and said coldly, “You can go.”
Song Yuzhang was a bit surprised at that, but his smile didn’t falter. He quietly observed Meng Tingjing’s expression and realized that the man seemed to have genuinely lost interest in him.
Those eyes had gone from feverish to icy in just a few minutes.
It was strange, but on Meng Tingjing, it somehow didn’t seem out of place.
Because that’s exactly the kind of person Meng Tingjing seemed to be—moody and unpredictable.
Honestly, he really couldn’t figure this man out.
Maybe he was just a paper tiger—loud talk, no follow-through. Song Yuzhang shook his head inwardly. He didn’t have time to waste figuring out what was going through Meng Tingjing’s head. Without hesitation, he got off the bed, opened the door—and was blocked by someone standing outside. Song Yuzhang turned back and asked, “Second Young Master Meng, are you letting me go or not?”
Meng Tingjing waved a hand behind his back.
The person at the door stepped aside, and Song Yuzhang walked out.
He bolted from the hotel, initially planning to head straight for the checkpoint, but after a moment’s thought, he sprinted back to the place where he had arranged to meet Le Yao’er.
Le Yao’er was there, alone in a green cheongsam, face deathly pale, trembling.
Song Yuzhang rushed over and, without saying a word, grabbed her arm. “Let’s go.”
The moment he tugged her, she stumbled forward like a puppet. He caught her by the shoulders, and following the diamond clasp at her collar, he looked up to see a pair of dazed, lifeless eyes. His brows furrowed. “Miss Le?”
Being called snapped Le Yao’er back to reality. She stared fixedly at him, her lips trembling as she whispered, “I… I killed someone…”
Song Yuzhang’s pupils contracted. How many more disasters are coming my way today?!
No time to waste. He immediately pulled her into his arms and moved forward.
Le Yao’er was still in shock, trembling as she walked. “He—he found out I—I was going to leave… He wouldn’t let me go… I lost control… hit him with a vase… blood everywhere…”
They slipped through the crowd. Song Yuzhang asked in a low voice, “Zheng Kexian?”
Le Yao’er didn’t respond. Her eyes brimmed with fear, tears barely hanging on.
“I—I don’t know how he found out… I—I didn’t tell a—anyone…”
The more trouble that came, the calmer Song Yuzhang became. He thought to himself, It was Meng Tingjing.
“That’s enough,” he murmured near her ear, “Don’t talk anymore. We don’t have time.”
Le Yao’er wasn’t just some helpless girl. When the vase hit Zheng Kexian and he collapsed in a pool of blood, she didn’t waste a moment. Without worrying about the consequences, she hailed a taxi straight to the airport.
This was her only shot—her one chance at a better life.
Song Yuzhang could feel her breathing slowly steady in his arms. He tightened his hold. “Good girl.”
Fortunately, Meng Tingjing hadn’t detained him long. They were just in time.
The checkpoint was right in front of them when Song Yuzhang suddenly stopped.
Le Yao’er stopped too, disoriented. She looked up at this man she barely knew and asked, “W-what’s wrong?”
Song Yuzhang gave a short laugh, then looked down at her.
Maybe because she’d left in a rush, she wore no makeup—her bare face looked young and innocent. She reminded him of Chun Xing, and of Xiao Yingtao. All of them shared that same youth, beauty, and lack of agency.
“Here’s your passport, your plane ticket, and a check for five hundred thousand. Go through it on your own. Once you’re overseas, cash the check and move to a different place. Don’t stay in England. Remember that.”
Le Yao’er stared wide-eyed. “I… You…”
He shoved everything into her hands and gave her a push. “Go.”
She stumbled a step forward, then turned to look at him blankly, her pupils and lips trembling violently.
Song Yuzhang said calmly, “There’s no time. Go.”
She didn’t know what had changed, or what he meant, but there really wasn’t time. The door to that new world was about to close. Steeling herself, Le Yao’er turned and ran toward the checkpoint alone.
Song Yuzhang watched her disappear into the gate from the crowd, then quickly turned and rushed back to the hotel. He went straight up to the third floor. Seeing the Meng family men still there, he sighed in relief and headed directly to the door.
The moment he knocked, an angry voice roared from inside, “Get lost!”
Song Yuzhang, unusually impatient, took a step back and—under the watchful eyes of the Meng men—kicked the door open with a loud bang.
On the bed, Meng Tingjing, deep in self-reflection, spun around in fury. “You f—!”
Song Yuzhang casually raised a hand. “Don’t be mad, we’ve got business.”
Meng Tingjing was thrown off by his matter-of-fact tone. “What?”
Song Yuzhang walked quickly up to him and lowered his voice. “Le Yao’er hit Zheng Kexian with a vase—he’s lying in her little villa, not sure if he’s dead or alive. You need to get me there, now.”
Meng Tingjing was momentarily stunned, then suddenly said, “Why didn’t you leave?”
“You’re asking me that?” Song Yuzhang gave a bitter laugh and pointed toward the door. “There were seven or eight guys at the checkpoint, all dressed the same, waiting for me. How was I supposed to leave? If I forced my way out and caused a scene, no one would be able to leave. Tingjing, I get that you’re mad, but you can’t mess with me like this. You want to play ‘Seven Captures of Meng Huo’ with me?”
Meng Tingjing fell silent.
Right. He had sent people to guard the checkpoint… and then forgot to call them back.
Song Yuzhang said, “You’re not going to clean up the mess you made?”
Meng Tingjing gave him a sidelong glance. “Get lost.”
“This isn’t the time to throw a tantrum. If this blows up, not only will Le Yao’er be in trouble—what about Sister-in-law? Don’t you know what she’s like? She won’t blame Eldest Brother, she’ll just—she won’t be able to live with it.”
Hearing that, Meng Tingjing glanced at him again, and realized that Song Yuzhang actually looked… sincere.
Fake or not, Meng Tingjing could still tell the difference.
This man—he’d toyed with him with honeyed words and playful games, but toward his sister and a random actress, he actually had some real feelings?
Meng Tingjing wanted to get angry, but forcibly held it back. Why bother? It’s not like he actually cared.
When they arrived at the scene, Zheng Kexian was already dead cold. His face still bore an expression of furious shock, frozen as he lay in a pool of blood and broken glass, like something out of a surreal painting.
Meng Tingjing frowned slightly. What a useless rabbit, he thought. Getting beaten to death by a woman. He raised his hand to call someone to deal with it, but Song Yuzhang stopped him. “No. We need to notify my eldest brother first.”
Meng Tingjing looked at him. “Didn’t you just say we shouldn’t let this blow up?”
“Exactly. That’s why we have to call Eldest Brother.”
Song Yuzhang gave his hand a firm squeeze. “Don’t panic.”
His movements were so natural and unguarded that Meng Tingjing was caught off guard. Is this guy just that forgiving—or did he never take me seriously to begin with?
Song Yuzhang walked over and made a phone call right in front of Meng Tingjing—dialing Song Jincheng at the bank.
“Eldest Brother, something’s happened.”
Hearing Song Yuzhang’s voice—when he was supposed to be on a plane—Song Jincheng immediately stood up in his office. “Something’s happened? What is it?”
“I went to pick up Le Yao’er to take her to the airport, and out of nowhere, Zheng Kexian showed up. He was saying awful things—accusing her of… of possibly being pregnant with…” Song Yuzhang trailed off deliberately, then continued in a panicked tone, “He started grabbing at her and wouldn’t let go, and I shoved him… He was standing next to a cabinet, and there was a vase… Eldest Brother…” His voice trembled. “He looks dead. What do I do?”
Song Jincheng felt his scalp go numb. “Stay where you are. Don’t move—I’ll be there immediately!”
He rushed out of the bank, while Song Yekang happened to see him from his upstairs office. He closed his folder and smirked to himself. Chasing after his son? Too late now.
Song Yuzhang hung up and turned to meet Meng Tingjing’s contemplative gaze. He said, “When Eldest Brother gets here, I’ll tell him the truth—that you brought me back from the checkpoint. But I’ll need you to say that you originally went to arrest Le Yao’er, and that you brought me back to help handle this murder case.”
Meng Tingjing, after watching this entire masterful performance, said coolly, “Why should I follow your script?”
Song Yuzhang replied, “So we can cover this up. So, Song Jincheng will willingly promise never to cheat again and stop hurting your sister.”
Meng Tingjing was silent for a long moment. He stared at Song Yuzhang. “Why?”
“I told you. For my sister-in-law.”
“I’m asking why you care so much about my sister,” Meng Tingjing’s expression darkened. “And why are you helping Le Yao’er?”
Song Yuzhang gave a weary-looking smile, then let it fade. His face grew serious—except for the mischievous gleam still flickering in his eyes. “So I can be a good little treasure, and you’ll dote on me properly?”
Meng Tingjing’s face darkened. “You—”
Song Yuzhang raised a hand and said seriously, “Enough. Let’s not bring this up again. I know you don’t like me anymore, and that’s fine. Just hold it together today. If I so much as joke with you again after this, I’m not even human. Fair?”
Meng Tingjing glanced at him coldly—only to realize that, for once, there really was a rare seriousness in his expression. So he really never took me seriously after all.
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