Song Yuzhang: Chapter 63 - Venomous Snake
Chapter 63: Venomous Snake
Day Four.
The bank finally closed, with only a small amount of legal tender left in the vault.
By tomorrow, all resources would be exhausted.
Song Yuzhang said, “Just leave the money here. I still have two checks on me.”
“Understood.”
Liu Chuanzong remained dutiful as always, never voicing a single objection to any of Song Yuzhang’s decisions or actions. Whether it was Song Yuzhang wanting to leave immediately in the beginning or now insisting on staying to the bitter end, his attitude remained the same—numb and indifferent.
After leaving the vault, Song Yuzhang took one last look at the bank's office and glanced at the fountain pen he usually used.
He remembered the day he’d gotten carried away and spilled ink all over himself while twirling that pen, and couldn’t help but smile slightly.
Might as well keep it—it would serve as a reminder to keep himself in check.
He took the pen with him, closed the door, and slowly went downstairs toward the bank’s side entrance. But as soon as he stepped out, he found someone already waiting.
The man wasn’t a stranger—it was the Meng family’s driver.
“Good afternoon, Fifth Young Master. Second Young Master would like to invite you to dinner. Would you be so kind as to honor him with your presence?”
Song Yuzhang felt somewhat puzzled and a little wary. For Meng Tingjing to suddenly invite him to dinner at a time like this—what did it mean?
He was leaving tomorrow…
“Oh, what a pity,” Song Yuzhang said with a smile. “I already have plans tonight. How about the day after tomorrow? I’ll host and invite Brother Meng to dinner then.”
Before he finished speaking, the driver clapped his hands. Suddenly, like a magic trick, several men in black cloth garments began approaching from the street.
Maintaining his smile, Song Yuzhang said, “Since Brother Meng is so sincere, I won’t refuse the invitation.”
“Please, Fifth Young Master.”
The Meng family’s driver remained polite, opening the car door for him and placing a hand on the top frame. “Mind your head, Fifth Young Master.”
Song Yuzhang stepped into the car, still smiling, then tilted his face slightly to glance at himself in the rearview mirror—a thoughtful expression in his eyes.
Meng Tingjing hadn’t contacted him in a long time. The last time they met was at a funeral, where Meng Tingjing treated him like he didn’t even exist. Song Yuzhang had thought it strange at the time, but he’d been too preoccupied with the bank to give it much thought. He figured once the bank was in his hands, he wouldn’t have to care about anyone else’s attitude.
Well, now the bank was in his hands—along with a debt of three hundred million.
But at least he truly didn’t have to care about anyone else’s attitude anymore.
What was there to fear? With a debt of three hundred million dollars on his back, what could possibly be worse?
Straightening his sleeves, Song Yuzhang asked with interest, “Where are we eating?”
“At home.”
“Oh,” Song Yuzhang replied, then after a pause added, “How’s the chef at your place?”
“Don’t worry, Fifth Young Master. We have four master chefs—Jiangnan cuisine, Shandong, Sichuan, Cantonese—they’re all top-tier. Whatever you’d like, we can serve it.”
“Our Second Young Master said we must treat you well tonight.”
The Meng residence at night was just as Song Yuzhang remembered—gloomy and eerie, like a haunted house. He followed the servant through a maze of twists and turns to the main hall.
“Please wait here. Second Young Master will be right out.”
Song Yuzhang sat down, thinking to himself that last time he came, he was taken to Meng Tingjing’s private courtyard. This time, he was in the main hall. Could Meng Tingjing actually have serious business to discuss?
Serious business... It would be pointless. Unless Meng was planning to—no, impossible. Meng Tingjing would never suddenly want to cooperate with the Song family, especially not now that the bank was in Song Yuzhang’s hands.
Their last meeting ended on bad terms. Meng Tingjing didn’t strike him as someone broad-minded—more like a petty man—he’d never willingly propose a partnership.
Lost in thought for a while, Song Yuzhang finally noticed how long he’d been kept waiting. He stood up and walked to the entrance of the hall, only to be stopped immediately. “Please wait, Fifth Young Master. Second Young Master will be right with you.”
Song Yuzhang’s eyes drifted between the two men blocking him. “I can wait,” he said, “but shouldn’t I at least be served a cup of tea first?”
“Please wait a moment, Fifth Young Master.”
Song Yuzhang smiled, understanding now that Meng Tingjing was deliberately making things difficult.
He returned to his seat, fingers tapping lightly on the table in rhythm—it was the beat of Yutangchun, a traditional opera tune.
He sat and waited another half hour before something finally stirred. Hearing footsteps in the distance, Song Yuzhang stayed rooted in his seat like a host awaiting guests. He didn’t move—not with a 300-million-dollar debt on his shoulders.
The footsteps entered the room. He still didn’t lift his eyes.
“Leave us,” said a voice.
It was Meng Tingjing.
Cool and distant.
Song Yuzhang heard the others leave. Only then did he slightly raise his head.
He had seen Meng Tingjing just a few days ago, so his face wasn’t surprising. But today’s outfit was new—grass-colored shirt and light trousers. Very clean and fresh, almost youthful.
Song Yuzhang took a few extra glances and caught Meng Tingjing’s gaze in return.
His look was cool and indifferent, like he didn’t know Song Yuzhang at all.
If Meng Tingjing could so easily pick things up and put them down, Song Yuzhang wondered, why bother going to such lengths to trouble him tonight?
“I was delayed by some matters,” Meng Tingjing said.
Song Yuzhang didn’t comment. “Seems like you didn’t really invite me here for dinner.”
“There will be dinner. We’ll eat after we talk.”
“Fine, let’s talk,” Song Yuzhang replied crisply. He was curious to know what kind of game Meng Tingjing was playing tonight.
“A while ago, Uncle Chen sold his factory. I’ve long wanted to get into manufacturing, so I bought it. Fortunately, things went well. The factory is now running again, and its output is more than double what it used to be. At this rate, in half a year at most, the factory’s losses will be fully recovered.”
Song Yuzhang turned his face slightly, listening quietly, and gave a faint smile. “Then congratulations, Brother Meng.”
“Thank you.” Meng Tingjing sat in the host’s seat, lightly rubbing his thumb and index finger together. His tone was indifferent. “But I wonder, how does Brother Song plan to fill the hole in the bank?”
For a moment, Song Yuzhang’s mind went completely blank.
“At this point, the deficit in the Song family’s bank must be over a hundred million dollars, right?”
Song Yuzhang remained silent, but his pupils contracted slightly—how did Meng Tingjing know about the bank’s deficit?!
Meng Tingjing spoke slowly and unhurriedly. “Right now, Brother Song must be wondering how I found out.”
“When Uncle Song brought Uncle Chen along to invest in American stocks and bonds, I’m sure he meant well. Who would’ve thought it would become the final straw that crushed the Chen family? Uncle Chen left behind many things in his office safe—whether he forgot to take them or deliberately left them for me, I don’t know. Either way, I should thank him. Those things ended up in my hands.”
“…Father truly couldn’t borrow any more money to plug the hole. Desperate, he took a risk and used the last of the funds to gamble on some stocks and bonds. But the losses only grew worse…”
Chen Hanmin’s bitterly smiling face surfaced in Song Yuzhang’s buzzing mind, and suddenly he felt numb all over—his hands, his feet.
That day, the very day he was officially introduced as a member of the Song family, the same day Chen Hanmin came to say goodbye to him, the same day Meng Tingjing broke off all ties with him.
Song Yuzhang slowly turned his gaze to Meng Tingjing. His lips trembled faintly. “…You knew all along?”
Meng Tingjing looked at him coldly, the corner of his lips curving slightly. He said softly, “Knew what?”
Song Yuzhang wanted to grab the teacup beside him and smash it, but his hand closed on nothing. Only then did he realize—there had been no tea served.
Even that, Meng Tingjing had calculated in advance?!
Song Yuzhang’s throat moved as he swallowed hard, staring at Meng Tingjing in disbelief.
Meng Tingjing gave him a slight smile. “Do you think those gifts from that useless drunkard Song Mingzhao were enough to bribe the police?”
Song Yuzhang almost gasped aloud. He stared at Meng Tingjing’s delicate face, suddenly unsure whether he even recognized the man before him anymore.
A cold gleam flashed in Meng Tingjing’s eyes, but his heart was gleeful.
He, Meng Tingjing, would never lose to anyone—never in this life.
“You really thought you were clever beyond measure, that everything was under your control?” Meng Tingjing leaned back slightly, smiling faintly. “Song Yuzhang, you’re far too arrogant.”
“Song Zhenqiao must have left you an escape route, right? Liu Chuanzong is a capable man, good at getting you out of trouble. Let me guess—he exchanged a lot of fiat currency for British pounds recently,” Meng Tingjing pointed at him, “he plans to send you to the England.”
“Not a bad idea. Song Yuzhang is a British citizen, after all. Once he escapes to the England, all his troubles vanish.” Meng Tingjing withdrew his hand and rubbed his knee with a slight smile. “But are you really British? Picked up a few foreign phrases from those people? ‘Counterfeit’?”
Song Yuzhang said nothing. He felt like he had come across a venomous snake, one whose dazzling scales looked beautiful from afar but hid in the grass, ready to strike with lethal precision from the shadows.
After a long silence, under Meng Tingjing’s mocking gaze, Song Yuzhang asked softly, “Tingjing, do you really hate me that much?”
“Hate you?” Meng Tingjing smiled coolly. “You’re not even worth that.”
“If not hate, then why go to such lengths to scheme against me?”
Another smile. “Scheme? How is this scheming? Haven’t I always been helping you?”
“You could still ask me for help now,” Meng Tingjing crossed his legs, smiling. “Song Zhenqiao is already dead. A father’s debt must be repaid by the son. The rest of the Song boys can’t run, and I’m sure someone’s already reminded you—I have proof that you’re not actually Song Yuzhang. If I submit all the transaction records Chen Song kept, you’ll be completely cleared of this debt scandal.”
It never occurred to Song Yuzhang that even the man who spoke to him on the mountain that day had been arranged by Meng Tingjing.
He had really miscalculated.
There truly were things more terrifying than owing three hundred million dollars.
“Tingjing,” Song Yuzhang said slowly, “You’re doing all this… just to make me beg you?”
Meng Tingjing replied, “Whether you choose to beg or not is up to you. I won’t force you.”
Song Yuzhang looked at him. Rumor had it this was a prodigy—brilliant and calculating. But the more he looked, the more he saw nothing but a petty, bitter pretty boy. So what if he’d provoked him? If there was a price to pay, he had paid it already.
Looking back, what had happened in bed wasn’t really that big a deal.
Song Yuzhang lowered his lashes. “Then… how should I beg?”
Meng Tingjing gave a cold laugh, full of scorn. “Quit pretending. Aren’t you supposed to be so capable? Get over here.”
Song Yuzhang stood up, head lowered, and slowly walked toward him.
Meng Tingjing sat upright, his eyes scanning Song Yuzhang from head to toe. He still had to admit—Song Yuzhang was stunning. But so what? No matter how stunning, he was still just a plaything in his hands.
His father, Meng Huanzhang, was clueless about most things, but he had the right idea about this.
Someone like Song Yuzhang—only fit to be toyed with. Even giving him a sliver of genuine emotion would end with getting played in return.
Better to play others than be played. If he couldn’t live a decent life, he’d choose the least pathetic version.
Meng Tingjing said coldly, “Why are you just standing there? Didn’t you say you liked the way I smell? Kneel.”
Song Yuzhang didn’t move.
Meng Tingjing waited patiently.
Because Song Yuzhang’s inner struggle and humiliation made him feel very pleased—almost euphoric.
After a long moment, Song Yuzhang slowly raised his face and locked eyes with Meng Tingjing. The fire in Meng Tingjing’s eyes was cold, but intense.
“Tingjing.”
Song Yuzhang called his name very gently.
Meng Tingjing’s gaze did not waver. He gave a cold, mocking smile.
Song Yuzhang smiled a little as well, still gentle. “You look like this…” He shook his head, voice growing calm, “You’re really not the least bit cute anymore.”
With that, he turned and strode away without the slightest hesitation.
Meng Tingjing watched his departing back with an icy gaze. His face and heart were steeped in cold water. Let him go. He would wait for the day Song Yuzhang came crawling back to beg.
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