Song Yuzhang: Chapter 65 - Death Contract
Chapter 65: Death Contract
When Song Qiyuan entered the office, Song Yuzhang was hanging up a shirt.
It was a very ordinary white shirt—neither new nor old, nothing special about it.
Once he finished, Song Yuzhang turned around and saw him, offering a slight smile.
“Third Brother, have a seat.”
Song Yuzhang looked radiant, though he always had a certain glow. Song Qiyuan should’ve been used to it by now, yet today, he found Song Yuzhang unusually dazzling—every inch of him vibrant, carrying the poise of a true bank president.
Song Qiyuan stared directly at him as he sat down on the sofa. “I came today to have a proper talk with you.”
Song Yuzhang also sat down, crossed one leg casually, and smiled. “I’m all ears.”
“You want five million. Under what name? For what purpose? You said you wanted to save the bank—how? With what?”
“It’s true, maybe you aren’t really Song Yuzhang. But right now, you are Song Yuzhang. All of Haizhou only recognizes that face of yours. How are you going to shake off this identity? Even the old Song family residence belongs to you now. Aren’t you also—” Song Qiyuan looked weary. Ever since taking on this role, not a day passed without fatigue showing on his face. His voice was tired and full of resentment. “So stop threatening me with nonsense like ‘mutually assured destruction.’ It’s true I’m not capable. But you—show me what you’ve got. Let’s see your real skill.”
Song Yuzhang listened quietly, unmoved. Only after he finished did a smile appear on his face.Song Yuzhang listened quietly, unmoved. Only after he finished did a smile appear on his face.
“Third Brother, you’ve asked me so many questions. Can I ask you a few in return?”
“Go ahead.”
“If I were the real Song Yuzhang, what would you do?”
Song Qiyuan hadn’t expected that. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Sending him back to England would be the best choice.”
“Then shouldn’t he get a cut of the money?”
Song Qiyuan was momentarily speechless.
“He took the blame for the Song family and got nothing in return—just tucked his tail and ran back to England?”
“Twenty years of silence, then you call him back just to throw him under the bus for a crime he didn’t commit?”
“What a great father. What a great brother. What a great family.”
“Doesn’t even leave the bones after devouring someone.”
Though Song Yuzhang spoke softly and gently, Song Qiyuan’s face grew darker with every word.
Song Qiyuan had always resented the tyrannical and cold-hearted family, but in the end, he still became an accomplice. A lotus flower couldn’t grow clean in the muck. He hadn’t been able to cut ties completely and had become part of the filth.
Song Yuzhang was right—he was pretending to be a gentleman.
In the end, he was still a puppet in their father’s hands. No matter how unwilling he was, that was reality. Any further defense would be mere sophistry.
So be it—if he was a hypocrite, he might as well go all the way.
Song Qiyuan closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t trust you.”
“Then who do you trust, Third Brother?”
Song Qiyuan initially thought of Liu Chuanzong, but seeing how Liu Chuanzong had behaved lately, he wasn’t so sure anymore. After thinking it over, he realized—there was no one he could trust.
Sons deceiving fathers, fathers harming sons—there wasn’t a single decent thing in this family.
“I only trust myself,” Song Qiyuan said, looking at Song Yuzhang. “You’re not getting five million. I can give you three. But even that three million won’t be handed over all at once. If you need it, Liu Chuanzong can come to me bit by bit. I’ll give it out only after I see the accounts and fully understand the purpose and the procedures.”
Song Yuzhang frowned slightly. Song Qiyuan remained cold and resolute—he had made up his mind. No matter how much Song Yuzhang threatened or pleaded, he would not budge. Song Yuzhang was a fraud—a bold and capable one—and he had to stay on guard.
Taking on that thirty million had already become his shackle. If he got swindled again, he might as well be dead.
“Fine,” Song Yuzhang said with a reluctant look, “we’ll do it your way.”
Song Qiyuan breathed a small sigh of relief. Before leaving, he looked at Song Yuzhang one last time. “I still advise you not to act on impulse.”
Song Yuzhang lowered his face. “Thanks for the advice.”
After Song Qiyuan left, the heavy expression on Song Yuzhang’s face gradually faded, replaced by ease once again.
Five million?
Three million?
That wasn’t what he was after.
What kind of competent conman would expose his true goal so easily?
Yes, he wanted the money—but more than that, he wanted Song Qiyuan himself.
He was the only smart one left in the Song family. After that old bastard Song Zhenqiao left behind such a mess, how could he not expect his biological son to clean it up?
As long as Song Qiyuan showed the slightest sign of softening, it was only a matter of time before both he and the three million would be dragged into the game again.
As for the future—how to walk the path ahead? Song Qiyuan had asked a bunch of questions, but in Song Yuzhang’s heart, the answer was only three words: I don’t know.
He wasn’t a god. Song Zhenqiao couldn’t fix it and had to resort to death—how could he, overnight, come up with some miraculous solution?
All he knew was—besides this path, there was no other.
Even if it was a dead end, he would grit his teeth and walk it.
At least on this path, he didn’t have to crawl on his knees.
He, Song Yuzhang, was nothing more than the bastard of a prostitute and a client. He hadn’t had a proper education, had no grand ambitions, just a cheap life adrift in a chaotic world.
But cheap as it was, the life was his own—and not for sale.
Liu Chuanzong returned after handling business, bringing up a few craftsmen.
It was their first time doing such a bizarre task—embedding a priceless gemstone into a wooden desk.
Though the desk itself was made of fine wood, it still seemed baffling. A gemstone like that, whether turned into a ring or a necklace, would have been stunning. To inlay it in a desk—truly incomprehensible.
Outside, Song Yuzhang was speaking with Liu Chuanzong. “Song Qiyuan agreed to three million. Tonight, take the accounts to him and have him reimburse today’s withdrawals from the bank. Also, when you go see Song Qiyuan, don’t hide it from the other two—make sure they see you. But don't let them know what you say and what you do. Just tell them you’re dealing with Song Qiyuan for the bank’s business.”
“Understood.”
Song Yuzhang patted his shoulder, then turned his head and looked at him with a smile in his eyes. “Do you know what I mean by this?”
“I do.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“The eldest and second young masters are highly suspicious. They'll suspect that you're colluding with the third and fourth young masters to seize control of the bank and deceive them into backing down too easily.”
“Song Qiyuan is a smart man. Those two's suspicions probably won’t escape his notice either.”
“The smarter the third young master is, the more he’ll drift apart from the eldest and second young masters.”
Song Yuzhang patted Liu Chuanzong's shoulder again, then casually pulled a thin sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to him.
He handed it over so casually that Liu Chuanzong, unprepared, took it instinctively. One glance at the ink bleeding through the back of the page made him pause.
Song Yuzhang turned and walked back into the room. Seeing the craftsmen working carefully, he said, “It’s alright. A few knocks or chips won’t matter.”
The craftsmen looked puzzled, and Song Yuzhang added, “I meant the gemstone.”
“Something this valuable…”
“It’s alright,” Song Yuzhang said with a smile, “little trinkets like this—I’ve got plenty at home.”
The craftsmen were dumbfounded. Now they truly understood what it meant to be immensely wealthy. Since the employer himself said it was fine, they relaxed and got to work.
Song Yuzhang had, of course, considered selling the gem for cash. Along with the valuables from the Song residence, they could probably scrape together a decent amount—enough for the bank to drag on for a few more days.
But if word got out, the Song family’s paper tiger reputation would instantly collapse.
He wouldn’t claim expertise in many things, but when it came to bluffing and sleight of hand, he was indeed a master.
So he couldn’t show weakness. Right now, he was one of Haizhou’s three major tycoons—naturally, even gemstones were just decorations for a table.
After the craftsmen left, Liu Chuanzong re-entered the room. He asked, “Fifth Young Master, what does this mean?”
Song Yuzhang stroked the gemstone now firmly embedded in the table. He scratched at it lightly with his finger, but couldn’t move it—it was very secure. “What do you mean? Oh, you mean the death contract?” he said casually. “Take it. I promised you back then—if I took control of this bank, I’d set you free, no longer make you serve. So take it.” He kept stroking the table and looked back, tone light and carefree. “Burn it, tear it up, or keep it as a memento if you like.”
Liu Chuanzong was still holding the thin sheet of paper.
“What?” Song Yuzhang noticed something off in his expression. “Don’t think I’m trying to buy you off. There’s no more conflict of interest between us now. Keeping it does me no good. You do your job, and I’ll pay you what you’re owed…” He casually picked up a file from the table. “Director Liao of the Transport Bureau—his monthly salary is measly, yet he’s got a pile of money deposited here. He’s quite the hoarder. I ought to treat him to a meal and ask for tips. For now, get this month's accounts settled. Set up a meeting with Shen Chengduo for tonight—I want to talk to him. Also, since Song Zhenqiao had his eye on the Nie and Meng families early on, there must be plenty of records on them. Gather everything and let me have a look…”
Liu Chuanzong had near-perfect memory—what he saw and heard, he remembered. So Song Yuzhang didn’t hold back, speaking in long, flowing bursts. When he finally grew dry-mouthed from talking, he realized Liu Chuanzong, unusually, seemed to be daydreaming.
“Liu Chuanzong?”
Song Yuzhang called out to him.
Liu Chuanzong slowly raised his face. He showed no particular expression, the stiff lines of his puppet-like face barely moving. He simply raised the deed in his hand and repeated, “This… belongs to me?”
This was the second death contract Song Yuzhang had returned.
The first had been Chu Xing’s.
She hadn’t said much, just teared up and knelt to him with a head bow.
Song Yuzhang thought, Liu Chuanzong is already forty years old, surely he won’t cry and bow to me over this, too, right?
Liu Chuanzong had been sold into the Song household for twenty-five years. Judging from his appearance, though he was technically a servant, he must have had some dignity—he was, after all, Song Zhenqiao’s trusted man. Song Zhenqiao wouldn’t have treated him too poorly.
Song Yuzhang said, “Liu Chuanzong, I’m giving you this deed back. But don’t think you can shirk what’s coming. We’re in the same boat now…”
His voice trailed off.
Liu Chuanzong… ate the deed.
Song Yuzhang watched as he chewed it up, bit by bit, and swallowed it down. But his expression was still dull, unreadable—no telling if it hurt to eat it or not.
Song Yuzhang silently watched him finish. Holding the document in his hand, he pointed to the teacup on the table, “Have some water. Soften your throat.”
Liu Chuanzong stood silently, his throat visibly working, as if still trying to swallow.
He didn’t drink any water. His dark eyes simply stared at Song Yuzhang.
Song Qiyuan had said: This isn’t the real Song Yuzhang—not a true-blooded member of the Song family.
Fair enough. A true Song wouldn’t have let him go so easily. The Songs never let go until they’d wrung the last drop of blood from a man’s bones.
No wonder. No wonder so many things didn’t quite fit.
Liu Chuanzong gave a slight smile—just a skin-deep, mechanical smile. Not sarcastic, just the only kind he seemed capable of. He took a deep breath and said, “Actually…” He paused. Under Song Yuzhang’s probing gaze, he slowly continued, “The bank’s deficit… isn’t three hundred million.”
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