Song Yuzhang: Chapter 57 - Deceiving and Being Deceived
Chapter 57: Deceiving and Being Deceived
“Liu Chuanzong, I'm asking you a question.”
The man who had always answered questions precisely and mechanically unexpectedly gave an irrelevant answer: “Unless something unexpected happens, the legal tender outside can still support the bank's operations for five more days. Fifth Young Master, you have five days to escape back to England. You were born there and are an England citizen—returning will be easy.”
Song Yuzhang quietly stared at Liu Chuanzong. The warmth in his limbs slowly faded. His voice was calm and soft: “Liu Chuanzong, I’ll ask you one last time. Where did the money go?”
“Father left us thirty million U.S. dollars in Citibank.”
Upon hearing Song Qiyuan's words, Song Jincheng and Song Yekang exchanged another glance—this time with mutual surprise and doubt. The two, who were usually like fire and water, now seemed to feel a rare sense of camaraderie. Song Jincheng asked, “What do you mean by that?”
Song Qiyuan looked tiredly toward the distant mountains and slowly said, “Half a year ago, Father diverted funds from the bank to purchase American stocks and bonds. You both should know that was during a massive market crash.”
Although Song Qiyuan didn’t know why Song Zhenqiao had suddenly started looking for an illegitimate son, he had always resented his father’s domineering control and never believed it was out of genuine familial affection.
There had to be some interest involved.
As for what kind of interest, Song Qiyuan didn’t know—and didn’t care to know.
Song Zhenqiao used his sons as tools and rarely showed real love. Song Qiyuan had long seen through his father’s true face. Seeing all his brothers as mere puppets in their father's hands, he only wanted to get as far away as possible.
So when Song Zhenqiao was hospitalized and Song Qiyuan accidentally received a telegram from London on the fax machine in his father’s study—reporting that Song Yuzhang had fallen during an equestrian event and needed to stay in England for over a year to recover—he quietly hid the telegram. He planned to conceal it for as long as possible, fearing his father would bring back a crippled, pitiful man only to be used as yet another pawn.
What he hadn’t expected was the sudden appearance of a lively and striking Song Yuzhang.
This Song Yuzhang was incredibly handsome and socially adept—not a simple character.
Song Qiyuan had intended to expose him, but after calming down, he thought: a father who only wants to exploit his son and a greedy fraudster—they deserve each other. Why should he interfere? Real or fake, Song Zhenqiao wouldn’t care anyway, would he? Better to sit back and watch the drama unfold.
And so he watched coldly from the sidelines—until he was suddenly pulled into the game himself.
“I'm not sick.”
Lying in his hospital bed, Song Zhenqiao admitted it bluntly.
“The illness was just to throw people off. Staying in the hospital was to make everyone believe I was ill. Now, everyone in Haizhou knows that the Song family’s Fifth Young Master is favored by me and that I plan to hand over the bank to him.”
Song Qiyuan listened as Song Zhenqiao calmly explained his plan.
The cruelty and cunning within it made Song Qiyuan regard his father with a whole new level of wariness.
Staring intently at his father, Song Qiyuan said slowly, “Even a tiger won’t eat its own cubs.”
“You’re right. A tiger won’t eat its cubs. He’s British—once he goes back, no one here can touch him.”
“By then, you just have to pin everything on him. Say he embezzled the funds and ran. The thirty million in Citibank has been cleaned from the books—I had someone take care of it. There won’t be a trace. I’m handing the money to you. Once the dust settles, you can use it to rebuild the family. Don’t let this house fall apart…”
Song Qiyuan’s face went numb. “What makes you think I’ll do as you say? I’m not one of your obedient sons.”
Song Zhenqiao smiled faintly. His face, still ruddy, took on a distant look. “I’m not commanding you. I’m asking you to fulfill my last wish.”
“Last wish? You’re not even sick.”
“Fifth Young Master, you’re quite capable,” Liu Chuanzong said calmly. “You managed to persuade Shen Chengduo to inject capital into our bank. But once everything is finalized, the deficit in the vault will inevitably be exposed.”
“I’ll pay for it with my life.”
“The medicine’s already been added,” said Song Zhenqiao, pointing to the IV line in his arm. He looked at his shocked third son and smiled serenely. A pale bluish tint was already appearing on his face. “Qiyuan, just this once—can’t you do what I say?”
“The old master had no choice. He had to go first.”
Liu Chuanzong said slowly, “Fifth Young Master, you could say you drove him to death. He said this was his way of paying with his life for yours.”
Song Yuzhang, upon hearing this, was unmoved by the claim that he had driven Song Zhenqiao to suicide. “So where’s the money?!”
Liu Chuanzong looked at him, a hint of amusement flickering in his otherwise emotionless eyes. “Someone as clever as Fifth Young Master—how could you not already know where the money went?”
“...All the Citibank deposits are to be inherited by the third son, Song Qiyuan…”
The lawyer's words from last night suddenly echoed in his mind. Song Yuzhang snapped out of his daze—like being struck in the head with a blunt object, he almost couldn’t stay on his feet.
It’s fine. No problem. He’s been through so much in the underworld—he’s seen it all. No need to panic… Song Yuzhang braced himself against the wall, turned his back to Liu Chuanzong, and said quietly, “So this bank... it’s just an empty shell?”
“Not quite.”
“More accurately, this bank is an IOU—with your name already signed at the bottom. Now, you have only one path left: return to England within five days. After that, you don’t have to worry about anything else.”
Song Yuzhang remained silent. His mind was barely functioning anymore.
One greedy thought, followed by scheming and maneuvering of all kinds.
He was never fond of gambling, knowing full well that the more you want to win, the more likely you are to lose everything.
But he couldn’t truly quit gambling either.
Especially when the stakes were so high they blinded him—he was inevitably sucked in.
Well then. Over the years, he had deceived many, amassed quite a bit of wealth. This time, it was finally his turn to be played—completely and utterly.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t suspected. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been cautious. But greed and the desire to win had overwhelmed everything, leaving him focused on only one thing.
Only when it was finally in his hands did he see its true form—something rotten and poisoned.
“How much?”
“You mean?”
Song Yuzhang turned around, his expression calm. “How much is owed on this IOU? As the debtor, I should at least be aware of that, shouldn't I?”
At this point, Liu Chuanzong truly felt a bit of admiration for his composure—even now, he hadn't gone mad or lost his mind. “Three hundred million US dollars.”
Upon hearing this astronomical figure, Song Yuzhang surprisingly felt nothing. He even let out two short laughs, pushed off the wall to steady himself, and walked into the room filled with legal tender. The roomful of bills—who even knew how much they were worth in US dollars anymore... He grabbed a handful and flung them at Liu Chuanzong.
“Take them—buy yourself a good coffin!”
“I’m not planning to tell Fourth Brother about this. I’m afraid he’ll mess things up.” With his hands behind his back and a slight frown, Song Qiyuan said, “In the next few days, Liu Chuanzong will help Fifth Brother escape back to England. Eldest Brother, Second Brother—don’t go looking for trouble with him again. And don’t return to the Song residence either, to avoid stirring up unnecessary trouble. Understood?”
Song Qiyuan had concealed Song Yuzhang’s true identity, and now Song Jincheng and Song Yekang had no objections. Since there was no money left in the bank—only debt—what good was it to them? Let that bastard have it! Though he probably wouldn’t want it either. Let him flee!
“Once he leaves, I plan to leave half of the money in Citibank. The other half, we’ll split among the four of us. I don’t care how you use your share. Just one thing: we’re still a family. Let’s not do anything to tear it further apart.”
Though Song Jincheng was the eldest, after hearing Song Qiyuan’s plan, he wholeheartedly admired his younger brother's hidden depth and natural leadership. He clapped Song Yekang on the shoulder. “Second Brother, what a relief.”
Song Yekang gave him a glance and returned the gesture. “Eldest Brother.”
The two brothers who had clashed for over two decades had finally found peace—though that peace was built atop someone else’s suffering.
Song Yuzhang walked out of the bank.
He had initially thought of going to confront Song Qiyuan, but then realized Song Qiyuan surely already knew everything. If he were the real Song Yuzhang, maybe he’d have some standing to question him. But since Song Qiyuan had known all along that he wasn’t, and they weren’t true brothers, what did it matter if he was the one taking the fall?
A discarded piece.
A truly discarded piece.
The more Song Yuzhang thought about it, the more he felt a burning rage within.
He had always been the one tricking others—never the one being tricked.
Yet now he had fallen for it—completely!
He had only himself to blame. No matter how clever he was, he and those people were simply from different worlds.
For someone like Song Zhenqiao to scheme against him had been as easy as lifting a finger.
No—that wasn’t entirely fair. Even if the real Song Yuzhang had come, he would’ve been just as ensnared.
It was only that he had been too aggressive, forcing Song Zhenqiao to make his move and fake his death ahead of time.
Didn’t Liu Chuanzong say it? Song Zhenqiao gave up his life to settle the debt with him.
Damn it—what use was Song Zhenqiao’s life to him!
He wanted money! He wanted a respectable identity!
England… Was he really going to go to England?
Song Yuzhang wandered aimlessly through the streets, his thoughts just as scattered as his steps.
He didn’t know where he should go or what he should do next.
Was he really going to slink off to England with the label of embezzler stuck to his back…? What a bitter, silent humiliation… His chest tightened with a suffocating pressure. He came to a halt, swaying, nearly collapsing.
“Fifth Young Master Song?”
A stranger’s voice came from behind. Song Yuzhang slowly turned his head.
It was an unfamiliar face, though the man clearly recognized him. He looked surprised. “Fifth Young Master Song, what’s happened to you? You look terrible. Are you ill? Should I take you to the hospital?”
“…You are?”
“Oh, you don’t remember me?” the man replied with a polite and gentle smile. “I’m Nie Mao. That day when you visited, I escorted you out, and the Eldest Master asked me to deliver a gift to you.”
“I remember.”
Song Yuzhang’s mind was practically blank now. Everything before him felt like a fog, and he responded almost mechanically.
Nie Mao was holding several bundles of wrapped pastries and asked with concern, “Fifth Young Master Song, are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m glad to hear that. It’s such a shame the Old Master passed so young. You mustn’t grieve too much. Young Master still thinks fondly of you—he hopes you’ll visit often.”
Song Yuzhang nodded. He had no energy for polite conversation. As he turned to leave, he staggered. Nie Mao quickly caught him. “Whoa, Fifth Young Master Song, what’s wrong? Where’s your car?”
“Car…” Song Yuzhang shook his head weakly. “I don’t have a car.”
Nie Mao could tell something was wrong and coaxed him gently while helping him into the Nie family’s car by the roadside. He told the driver, “Head back home.”
“FIfth Young Master Song, sit and rest a while. I’ve got some errands to run. Once I’m done, I’ll either take you to the hospital or back home, whichever you prefer.”
Song Yuzhang didn’t respond.
Nie Mao peeked in with the box of pastries and saw that Song Yuzhang’s eyes were closed. It wasn’t clear whether he’d passed out or just fallen asleep.
Knowing the Young Master of the Nie family was quite fond of this guest, Nie Mao immediately urged the driver to go faster.
The Nie family’s drivers were all former military men—swift and decisive. In no time, they arrived. As soon as the car stopped, Nie Mao jumped out first. He glanced at the unconscious Song Yuzhang in the back seat, worried he’d drop the man, and instructed the driver: “Go inside and get two people to help carry him. And call that foreign doctor to come take a look.”
“Yes, right away.”
Nie Mao waited by the car with the pastries in his arms. As he paced, the sound of galloping hooves grew louder in his ears. He looked southeast in the direction of the noise—and saw a red blur charging straight toward the Nie residence. The horse’s mane flew like a banner, kicking up a thick trail of dust.
Before Nie Mao could even clearly see the rider, the magnificent steed was already upon him with a loud whinny. The rider tugged the reins one-handed and clamped the horse with powerful legs, bringing it to a forceful stop. The thundering hooves slammed down, startling Nie Mao into stepping back instinctively. He looked up, stunned. But when he recognized the person atop the horse, his expression shifted instantly from shock to joy. “Second Master, you’ve returned!”
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