Song Yuzhang: Chapter 49 - Difficult to Handle
Chapter 49: Difficult to Handle
There was actually something that had always puzzled Song Yuzhang a little.
Since the entire Song family bank was in Song Zhenqiao’s hands, and the eldest and second sons of the Song family were so eager to get their hands on it, why didn’t they go all out to curry favor with Song Zhenqiao? When a person is physically weak, their psychological defenses tend to be lower than usual. Wouldn’t putting on a show of being a devoted son or grandson in front of him now be more effective than anything else?
This question, Song Mingzhao answered for him.
Since Song Mingzhao had already made up his mind to advance and retreat together with Song Yuzhang, he naturally shared all the family secrets that might be useful to him.
According to Song Mingzhao, Song Zhenqiao was autocratic and deeply suspicious. Over the years, he had been harsh with his sons and lacking in affection. He often beat and scolded the children, even kept a thin whip at home—whenever one of them made a mistake, he’d lash them like a spinning top.
Half a year ago, Song Zhenqiao had a sudden illness at home. After being hospitalized, he never wanted to come back.
“He’s afraid that if he stays at home, someone will try to harm him.”
Song Mingzhao’s smile held a bitter edge, tinged with sorrow. Song Yuzhang reached out and gently squeezed his hand. “Fourth Brother, don’t be too upset.”
“I’m not upset,” Song Mingzhao muttered, almost to himself. “It’s not just that he looks down on me—he looks down on all of us. He treats his sons like enemies. As long as I know what kind of person I am, I don’t care what they think of me.”
Song Yuzhang understood this was just Song Mingzhao’s way of comforting himself, and he lightly stroked the back of his hand.
Song Mingzhao, consoled by the gesture, smiled faintly and composed himself before continuing.
Song Zhenqiao was so suspicious that he didn’t even want to see his sons anymore. He had forbidden them from visiting him at the hospital without prior notice. If anyone showed up unannounced, he would erupt in fury.
At this, Song Yuzhang looked at Song Mingzhao in mild surprise.
Song Mingzhao gave him a slightly doting smile. “You’re different. Every time Father sees you, he’s genuinely happy.”
Even Song Yuzhang was momentarily speechless.
Could it be that Song Zhenqiao really did hold some special affection for this youngest son?
“That’s why you have every right to fight for it,” Song Mingzhao interlaced his fingers with Song Yuzhang’s, his voice soft and resolute. “As long as Father is willing to hand over the bank to you, no one will be able to stop you.”
Song Yuzhang tightened his grip slightly and brought Song Mingzhao’s hand to his lips, planting a light kiss on the back. “Fourth Brother, stay with me.”
A spark seemed to travel through Song Mingzhao’s entire body from where Song Yuzhang had kissed his hand. Never in his life had he felt so clearly that he mattered this much to someone. He said firmly, “If I’m not with you, who will be?”
Gaining Song Mingzhao’s support was, for Song Yuzhang, just a small addition to his arsenal.
Song Mingzhao was a good-for-nothing young master; the help he could provide was minimal—but better than nothing.
As for the bank itself, it wasn’t actually that hard to learn the ropes. It really just came down to a few processes. In Song Yuzhang’s view, it wasn’t much different from running a loan shop—gather money, lend it out, collect interest, and then reinvest the idle capital and profits. The key to the whole operation was the first step: attracting funds.
He asked Liu Chuanzong for the ledgers from the bank. After flipping through them carefully, he found that the Song family bank indeed had an astonishing amount of capital. With something so massive in his hands, if he were Song Zhenqiao, he probably wouldn’t want to let go either.
It would take more than just average skill to make Song Zhenqiao willingly hand over the bank.
Song Yuzhang closed the ledger and said to Liu Chuanzong, “Put them away.”
As Liu Chuanzong turned to leave with the ledger, Song Yuzhang called out to him again, “Wait.”
He pulled out a sleek, elegant box from the drawer. “Your pen broke, didn’t it?”
Liu Chuanzong was silent for a moment, then accepted the pen from Song Yuzhang and murmured, “Thank you, Fifth Young Master.”
Song Yuzhang said, “No need to be so polite. Since I want to win you over, of course, I have to put in some effort.”
Liu Chuanzong’s puppet-like face showed a flash of surprise—it seemed he hadn’t expected Song Yuzhang to be so direct.
With one hand pressed lightly to the table, Song Yuzhang smiled brightly. “Since Father has placed someone as capable as you at my side, I can’t afford to waste talent. If you have any requests, just speak up. If I can make it happen, I will.”
Liu Chuanzong’s gaze flicked between Song Yuzhang’s smiling face and the dark, gold-embossed pen box in his hand. In the end, he still said softly, “Thank you, Fifth Young Master.”
After the door closed, Song Yuzhang’s smile faded slightly.
Liu Chuanzong was a strange one.
Whatever task Song Yuzhang gave him, he always completed it flawlessly. He was also incredibly forthcoming—almost too honest—which made Song Yuzhang feel an odd sense of unease.
That unease may have come from Liu Chuanzong’s own strange personality, or perhaps from the fact that it was Song Zhenqiao who had assigned him to Song Yuzhang’s side.
In any case, there was definitely something unsettling.
Song Yuzhang clenched his fist and tapped it lightly on the table.
So what if he was uneasy? Great endeavors aren’t achieved through small tricks. If you keep second-guessing everything, you’ll never get anything done.
He recalled the ledgers and, combining that with Song Mingzhao’s insights into the upper circles of Haizhou, came to a realization: though the Song family bank was powerful, the two most influential families in the city had no business dealings with it whatsoever.
The Nie family, and the Meng family.
Song Yuzhang rested his palm against his cheek, deep in thought.
Actually, this wasn’t so surprising.
The Nie family was an extremely low-profile clan in Haizhou. They dealt in mining and had connections with many key figures. It was natural for their finances to be kept secret. With the Song and Nie families now engaged in marriage negotiations, perhaps Song Yekang was aiming precisely for that angle.
As for the Meng family...
Meng Sushan had been married to Song Jincheng for over ten years now. It wasn’t likely that the relationship was strained. Song Yuzhang figured the problem might lie in Meng Tingjing’s way of doing things.
Meng Tingjing was too independent. Asking someone like him to hand over his wealth for the Song family to manage—seemed unlikely.
And then there was the Chen family. They had once had dealings with the Song family bank, but they’d gone bankrupt long ago, so there was nothing more to say there. Over the years, Song Zhenqiao must have made efforts to win over the Nie and Meng families. But clearly, he had failed.
The Nie and Meng families had long stood as equals with the Song family—perhaps deliberately, as a way to counterbalance each other.
But if someone could convince either of them to cooperate with the Song family bank, then even if Song Zhenqiao’s heart were made of stone, he would surely be moved.
Perhaps they wouldn’t even need to see any actual cash—if either family merely showed signs of willingness or openness to cooperate, that might be enough to make Song Zhenqiao ecstatic.
But if even Song Zhenqiao couldn’t manage to pull it off, how could he possibly hope to get what he wanted in such a short time?
Rubbing his fingers across his forehead, Song Yuzhang leaned back into the chair. His gaze landed on the fluorescent light next to the ceiling, and he slowly let out a breath.
These two matters were just too difficult to accomplish.
Using the Nie family for leverage—Song Yekang, his soon-to-be brother-in-law, couldn’t even manage that, let alone him. He had only seen Nie Xueping a handful of times, and from what little he knew, the man seemed gentle on the surface but was clearly very shrewd—not the type who could be easily persuaded.
As for the Meng family… there was no point in even bringing them up. Meng Tingjing’s personality was so wild that even a Bodhisattva descending from the heavens wouldn’t be able to reform him.
Song Yuzhang felt like a thief who had found the key, only to realize the lock had been sealed shut. The frustration was eating away at him, yet he had no way to act—he was anxious, under pressure, and irritated.
And when people are under pressure, they look for ways to let off steam.
And there are only a few ways to do that.
Song Yuzhang left the bank. Originally, he had thought about going to Vienna again. He hesitated, debated with himself, and finally didn’t go. He pulled over to the roadside, lit a cigarette, and smoked slowly. Feeling a bit stiff from sitting, he adjusted his posture—and the moment he twisted around, something felt off.
Some memories he thought he had long forgotten suddenly surged back to life in his mind—fragments, blurred and shameful, each one enough to make his face turn pale.
Frowning slightly, Song Yuzhang turned the car around and decisively headed back to Vienna.
Times had changed. The moment he re-entered Vienna, he received a very warm welcome—not just for his looks, but for his status. The manager greeted him enthusiastically, ushered him to a seat, and quickly slipped away. Moments later, he returned, trailing behind a string of clean-cut young men like a skewer of candied hawthorn.
Song Yuzhang hadn’t even settled in or finished straightening his jacket before he was met with the manager’s beaming face and the flushed boys at his side—and he nearly wanted to get up and bolt.
What the hell was this?!
He hadn’t come to solicit anyone!
“Fifth Young Master Song, these boys are all fresh arrivals. They might not match the level of those from the White Tower, but they’re brand new—none of them older than nineteen. Take a look,” the manager said, pulling forward a young man in a server’s uniform. “This one’s eighteen this year—real obedient. Not a single scar on him.”
Song Yuzhang didn’t look. He gave a slight wave of his hand.
The manager got the message, dismissed the group of boys dressed as servers, but held back the last one to whisper a few instructions.
“Fifth Young Master, my apologies—I misunderstood.” The manager offered a sheepish smile.
Song Yuzhang didn’t show any displeasure. He said quietly, “There’s no need for that kind of hospitality.”
“But that won’t do... Ah, here they come...”
Before the manager could finish, another batch of girls appeared.
Song Yuzhang’s face flushed and paled by turns—he truly wanted to leave now.
He might be flirtatious and indulgent, but he had never been a whoremonger in his life!
He stood up immediately.
“Hey, Fifth Young Master,” the manager called out. He’d heard about the legendary night where Song Yuzhang paid ten thousand for a night with Xiao Yuxian—how could he let such a golden goose go? He hurriedly added, “What kind of companion do you want? Just tell me—I swear I’ll find you someone perfect.”
Hearing that, Song Yuzhang almost couldn’t keep up the polite facade. His expression chilled, and just as he was about to speak, a loud, rough voice rang out behind him.
“Get the fuck out, Zhang Laosi! What kind of people are you bringing in, huh? Jesus Christ, look at them—who’s whoring whom here? Is Young Master Song here to sleep with them, or are they here to sleep with him?!”
The vulgar, unrestrained tone left no doubt in Song Yuzhang’s mind who it was—he turned his head and sure enough, there was Shen Chengduo with a cigar in his mouth, looking like a half-thug, half-ruffian, the smirk on his face brimming with the air of a street punk.
As soon as the manager saw his boss had spoken, he quickly herded the escorts away.
Shen Chengduo exhaled a puff of cigar smoke and greeted Song Yuzhang, “Young Master Song, long time no see. Here to support my little establishment?”
Song Yuzhang smiled. “Just came to drink and unwind—didn’t expect all that.”
Shen Chengduo waved a hand. “Those little sluts heard you paid ten grand for one night with Xiao Yuxian. The moment they saw you, they nearly started dripping. Good thing you’re the only spoiled rich kid in Haizhou who throws money around like it’s confetti—otherwise I wouldn’t be able to keep up with the damn rates.”
Song Yuzhang kept his smile mild. He’d dealt with scoundrels before and wasn’t the least bit fazed by Shen Chengduo’s crudeness. “You’re too kind, Boss Shen.”
In Shen Chengduo’s mind, Song Yuzhang had always been a man you admired from afar but couldn’t get close to—elegant, dignified, exuding a noble air. So whenever he was around Song Yuzhang, he’d deliberately act more uncouth, driven by a kind of twisted desire to taint something beautiful.
Yet Song Yuzhang remained poised and calm, showing no irritation or offense, politely bidding Shen Chengduo farewell.
As Shen watched him leave, he realized even the way Song Yuzhang turned to walk away was graceful—cultured to the core.
“Young Master Song,” Shen Chengduo called out. Song Yuzhang paused and looked back. Shen stared at that flawless face for a moment, momentarily forgetting what he meant to say. Only when he saw the faint puzzlement in Song Yuzhang’s eyes did he snap out of it and say, “There’s a game going upstairs. Come play a few rounds—win or lose, it’s on me.”
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