Song Yuzhang: Chapter 55 - Will
Chapter 55: Will
Song Zhenqiao was dead.
The great tycoon of Haizhou died in a hospital room.
News of Song Zhenqiao’s death caused a huge stir outside the Song family, but within the household, everything remained strangely calm.
Song Zhenqiao had been ill for over half a year—everyone had long since prepared themselves for this outcome.
As the eldest son, Song Jincheng naturally took over the funeral arrangements immediately.
The original funeral plan was incredibly lavish, but Song Qiyuan objected. “It’s too extravagant. With all the unrest outside, it’s not a good time to make such a big show of things.”
Song Jincheng had never heard this third brother voice an opinion about family matters before. He thought to himself that now that Song Zhenqiao was dead, Song Qiyuan could no longer hide his true ambitions. Gone was the calm, carefree facade. With a grief-stricken face, Song Jincheng said, “Father is gone. As his sons, shouldn’t we do everything we can to honor him one last time?”
Song Qiyuan glanced at him, then stood up and said, “Do as you wish.”
His tone was so cold and impatient that it made Song Jincheng feel like a child again, as if he were being scolded by a younger version of their father.
That tone, that expression—it was as if Song Zhenqiao had been reborn.
Song Jincheng was deeply displeased. I’m the eldest brother, damn it! That brat!
Before his death, Song Zhenqiao had told him to take good care of his younger brothers, and to treat Meng Sushan well. That clearly meant he was handing the Song family over to him.
Once the funeral ends and the will is read, let’s see if Song Qiyuan can still act so high and mighty!
After Song Qiyuan left the room, he spotted Song Yuzhang by the riverside feeding birds. He hesitated for a moment, then walked over. As soon as he approached, Song Yuzhang noticed him and turned with a faint smile. “Third Brother.”
Song Qiyuan gave a neutral grunt, glanced at his hands, and said the obvious, “Feeding birds?”
“Yes,” Song Yuzhang smiled. “I can’t really help with anything, so I came out to get some air.”
Song Qiyuan gave him a complicated look. “What did he say to you before he died?”
Song Yuzhang raised one brow slightly. “Nothing much. What did Father say to you?”
“You want to know?”
Song Yuzhang smiled again and turned back to feed the birds. “Not really.”
Song Qiyuan had no words for him. “Fine. Do what you like.”
As he left, Song Yuzhang watched his back. That back was practically steaming with fury.
A good sign.
Maybe Song Zhenqiao really hadn’t handed the bank to Song Qiyuan?
In that case… maybe there was still hope for him.
Although Song Yuzhang didn’t think many of the Song brothers were particularly clever, he had to admit Song Jincheng did a decent job with the funeral. It was a grand fusion of Eastern and Western customs—church ceremony followed by paper-burning at home. The whole affair was enormous, and everyone of significance in Haizhou was in attendance.
The last time such a grand ‘gathering’ happened, it had been to welcome Song Yuzhang.
From the indifferent expressions on the guests’ faces, he could tell their thoughts were just like those of the Song brothers—they were all curious who would take over the Song family bank.
There were five brothers in the Song family. On the surface, each one looked outstanding. No one could tell who the bank would ultimately go to.
The atmosphere of the funeral hardly felt like a funeral. The two elder brothers wept with great sorrow, while the three younger ones all wore identical expressions of calm detachment.
The five brothers were swarmed by guests, repeatedly offered condolences.
Standing at the end of the receiving line, Song Yuzhang watched one guest bow so many times that they nearly couldn't straighten their back. Eventually, people stopped even looking at who they were bowing to—they just kept going.
“My condolences.”
A faint voice passed by. Song Yuzhang looked up. Meng Tingjing had already walked past him.
He hadn’t seen Meng Tingjing in a long time and thought she looked a little thinner. But before he could dwell on it, the next guests were already in front of him.
Then came the Nie family. Little Nie Bonian clung pitifully to his leg and looked up. “Brother Yuzhang, don’t be sad.”
Song Yuzhang nodded to Nie Xueping and patted Nie Bonian’s head. “Thanks, I’m all right.”
“My condolences.”
Nie Xueping said it while locking eyes with him. As Song Yuzhang bent forward slightly to return the gesture, Nie Xueping’s hand landed gently on his shoulder. After a brief pat, he led Nie Bonian away.
After the guests were seen off, lunch was served. Haizhou customs called for burial in the afternoon. The five Song brothers sat at one table. The remaining seats were filled by the Meng siblings and the three members of the Nie family.
Nie Bonian sat beside Song Yuzhang, with Nie Xueping on the other side of the child. Nie Qingyun sat with Song Yekang. Meng Sushan sat with Song Jincheng, and Meng Tingjing was between Niew Xueping and Song Jincheng.
Being at a funeral, it wasn’t proper to speak loudly or laugh. The atmosphere was quiet. Niew Bonian, being a child, was less constrained. His arms were too short to reach the food, so Song Yuzhang asked him what he wanted and served him.
Seeing this, Song Yekang said, “Aren’t there servants for that? No need to trouble yourself, Fifth Brother.”
Song Yuzhang smiled. “It’s fine. Bonian’s next to me, I’ll take care of him.”
Nie Bonian, ever the considerate child, said, “Brother Yuzhang, if you do that, you won’t have time to eat.”
“That won't happen,” Song Yuzhang said as he placed a piece of crispy lotus root in Nie Bonian’s bowl, then did the same for himself. “See? I’m just doing it conveniently.”
Nie Bonian immediately grinned. He reached with his chopsticks to get more, but the piece in his bowl was snatched away by his father. He looked at him in confusion.
Nie Xueping said, “Didn't you say this morning you had a loose tooth? You probably can’t chew this right now.”
Nie Bonian replied, “Oh, I forgot.”
Hearing that, Song Yuzhang quickly said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
Nie Xueping glanced at him across Nie Bonian and said, “It’s nothing. Thank you for taking care of Bonian.”
“No need to thank me, it’s no trouble at all.”
They were speaking in low voices. Sitting between them, Nie Bonian couldn’t hear clearly and tugged at Nie Xueping’s sleeve. When Nie Xueping leaned down, he whispered in his ear, “Dad, don’t talk to Brother Yuzhang in whispers—I want to hear what you two are saying too.”
Nie Xueping straightened up and spooned some crab roe tofu into his bowl. “Eat up, careful, it’s hot.”
Nie Bonian thought, But I didn’t ask for tofu... Still, he wasn’t picky. He scooped up half a spoonful and puffed his cheeks to blow on the steaming tofu.
During the meal, Song Yuzhang barely noticed Meng Tingjing at all. Meng Tingjing said nothing and didn’t even look his way. That cold attitude actually made Song Yuzhang glance at him a few more times than usual.
He vaguely felt that Meng Tingjing had changed, though it was hard to say in what way—or whether it was for better or worse.
After the luncheon, it was time to escort the casket for burial.
The five Song brothers and the other guests rode in cars up the mountain and laid Song Zhenqiao to rest in the pre-selected cemetery.
After the burial, everyone lingered on the mountain for a while, chatting.
Song Yuzhang was never short on people to talk to. Song Mingzhao, in order to avoid suspicion, deliberately stayed some distance away to avoid giving the impression that the brothers were forming factions.
“Fifth Young Master, funny thing—it turns out those who died on the same ship you were on were also buried nearby.”
This came from one of the officers from the police bureau who had arranged the coffins and the funeral.
“Really?” Song Yuzhang replied casually.
The man sighed and said with emotion, “Life is unpredictable. Some people died without us even knowing their names. The leftover names on the passenger list were randomly assigned to them. We just had to make something up. Hopefully, they’ll be reincarnated into better lives…”
Song Yuzhang nodded and scraped the sole of his shoe against the lush grass—then suddenly stopped.
A flash of thought struck him like lightning. Certain buried doubts surged up, magnified to startling clarity. He opened his mouth, lips moving involuntarily. “That passenger list wasn’t complete, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t. The Peony docked at too many ports. Besides the original list from London, none of the other boarding points had records. We just had to make do.”
Song Yuzhang’s heart pounded violently. A ludicrous yet shockingly plausible idea swept through his mind—maybe the real Song Yuzhang had never boarded that ship at all.
Trying to sound casual, he said, “Second Young Master Meng was involved in that too, wasn’t he?”
“Yes! If it weren’t for Second Young Master Meng helping sort through the list, we’d still be looking for needles in a haystack. Both he and you, Fifth Young Master, have such kind hearts…”
Standing on the mountainside, Song Yuzhang fell into mechanical small talk.
When the man left, his brain slowly began to function again.
So that’s the leverage Meng Tingjing holds?
Song Yuzhang had considered many possibilities. He’d assumed Meng Tingjing was mostly guessing—he couldn’t possibly have hard evidence. It was too difficult to obtain, and now that Song Zhenqiao was dead, there was no way he’d rise from the grave to accompany him to Germany for any kind of verification.
He never imagined that Meng Tingjing’s leverage would be ironclad, black-and-white proof on paper.
Then… what about Song Qiyuan? Surely Song Qiyuan wouldn’t sit by and watch him seize the family fortune. So—
“Xiao Yu.”
Song Mingzhao couldn’t help but come to talk to him. When Song Yuzhang turned around, his expression startled Song Mingzhao. “Xiao Yu, what’s wrong?”
Song Yuzhang quickly recovered, masking his thoughts. “Nothing. Just thinking about tonight.”
All the Song brothers were, in truth, anxious—eager to finish the funeral and return home for the will reading. Song Mingzhao reassured him, “Don’t worry. No matter the result, we’ll still have a shot.”
Song Yuzhang nodded slowly. “Yes, you’re right.”
After a while, the group descended the mountain.
The setting sun bled across the sky, casting the heavens above Haizhou in shades of crimson. Inside the car, Song Yuzhang gazed out at the blood-red sky, feeling a strange sense of calm.
What was there to fear? He’d had nothing to begin with.
Just a penniless impostor—was there anything left to lose?
He brushed off his sleeve, his expression serene, unafraid.
By the time they returned to the Song residence, the sky had gone completely dark. The house glowed with lights inside and out, shining like a magnificent beacon. The five Song brothers sat in the living room, each with a heavy expression.
Ten minutes later, the lawyer arrived—right on schedule.
Three lawyers had arrived, one of whom was British. Apart from the lawyers, there was another person whose presence both surprised and made sense to Song Yuzhang.
“Gentlemen, Master Song placed his will in a bank safe deposit box six months ago. The password was split into parts, each held by one of the three lawyers. Today, the box has been retrieved, and now the will shall be opened and read aloud in front of all the young masters.”
Liu Chuanzong said in a formal tone. Then he turned to the three lawyers. “Gentlemen, please proceed.”
The five Song brothers all turned their eyes simultaneously to the small safe—except Song Qiyuan, who had one hand pressed against his temple.
Song Yuzhang no longer felt tense. Instead, a strange peace had settled over him, as if none of this truly concerned him.
It didn’t matter anymore.
He had learned how to conduct himself and picked up some foreign language skills while working at the bank—both valuable assets. He still had checks and some valuables in his hand. Over the past few months, he had also made a decent amount of money and broadened his horizons.
Even if he lost, there was no need to feel dejected.
He had already done all he could.
With each of the three lawyers entering a part of the password, the safe clicked open with a metallic clang.
Song Jincheng nearly stood up to peer inside but forced himself to stay seated, remembering he was the eldest—and the most likely candidate to inherit everything.
The lead lawyer took out an envelope, flipped it over to show the wax seal, and was about to break it open when Song Yekang interrupted, “Wait!”
The lawyer looked at him.
“How do we know you haven’t conspired to switch the will in advance?” Song Yekang asked.
The lawyer turned to Liu Chuanzong.
Liu Chuanzong responded, “Please rest assured, Second Young Master. These three gentlemen did not know of each other’s involvement until today. Furthermore, the will was written in the old master’s own hand. If you have any doubts, you may consult a calligraphy expert to authenticate it.”
The lawyer nodded and added, “This is the first time we three have met. Frankly speaking, I don’t get along particularly well with the other two.”
The remaining two lawyers nodded in agreement, and the British lawyer said in English, “Please trust in our professional integrity.”
In truth, Song Yekang was overwhelmed with anxiety. His outburst was instinctive, fueled by a strong premonition that the will would not favor him. Hearing their airtight responses, he could only sit down again and clench his hands in agitation.
Not just Song Yekang—Song Mingzhao was also nervous. He glanced at Song Yuzhang, and upon seeing the latter’s calm expression, his heart settled slightly.
The lawyer then opened the envelope in front of everyone and pulled out the will.
It was a long will—and coldly worded, with no unnecessary phrasing. It was purely about the distribution of assets, and very detailed: landholdings, houses, antiques… even the assignments of servants were carefully arranged.
From the very beginning, everyone could tell it was undoubtedly written by Song Zhenqiao himself. It was so in line with his habit of managing everything down to the last detail.
As the lawyer read, he continuously moved the will upward in his hands. That single sheet of paper, not particularly long or short, was read out like a lit fuse. The closer his hands came to the bottom of the page, the more the tension in the room built up like an impending explosion.
Finally, the lawyer clearly enunciated: “All deposits in Citibank shall be given to the third son, Song Qiyuan.”
Song Yekang immediately objected. “What’s the amount?”
The lawyer looked up at him and answered calmly, “Mr. Song did not specify.”
That… Song Yekang couldn’t hide the change in his expression. After all that reading, he had only been given three parcels of farmland, two apartments, a few antiques, and two servants. That was it?
It seemed the others had received about the same—until suddenly this unspecified deposit was given to Song Qiyuan. Song Yekang wanted to throw a fit, but he held back. Even Song Jincheng hadn’t exploded yet. Everyone was waiting for the biggest piece of the pie. He thought to himself, Song Yuzhang hasn’t received anything either, has he...?
Just as he thought that, the lawyer continued reading:
“Household servant Liu Chuanzong is to be assigned to the fifth son, Song Yuzhang.”
Everyone turned their heads in unison toward Liu Chuanzong, who was standing quietly to the side.
Song Jincheng, who had managed to stay composed the entire time, finally lifted himself slightly off his seat, feeling something ominous in the air. Before he could voice any objections, the lawyer calmly read out the final line of the will:
“…The Song family residence and Song family Bank shall be inherited by the fifth son, Song Yuzhang.”
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