Song Yuzhang: Chapter 73 - To Probe
Chapter 73: To Probe
“Left?”
“Yes, he left the city.”
“You saw it with your own eyes?”
“Not exactly. Our men outside the city saw him. We didn’t dare follow—afraid we’d be discovered.”
“Alright, I understand. You can go.”
Song Yuzhang waved his hand, and the newspaper in his hand slipped down onto his lap.
Nie Yinbing had left the city.
The reason was unknown, but it was certain he had gone. He left as early as 7 a.m.—he must have had something urgent to attend to.
Although Nie Yinbing came from a military academy background, his family couldn't bear the thought of him risking his life on the battlefield and forbade him from joining the army. Since he couldn’t serve on the front lines, he developed a new hobby—suppressing bandits.
Song Yuzhang glanced at the newspaper, wondering if Nie Yinbing had gone out to fight bandits.
Fighting bandits took time.
This was a good opportunity—he wouldn’t need to time his moves to avoid Nie Yinbing and could focus on strengthening his relationship with Nie Xueping.
Holding the newspaper in both hands, Song Yuzhang still felt a little unsettled.
The debate with Song Qiyuan from two days ago kept rippling through his mind.
He had had many lovers, and upon reflection, he was certain he had never looked down on any of them.
To be fair, they were all young lords of noble birth. Even Chen Hanmin, whose family had hit rock bottom, could still live in France. Realistically speaking, none of them were weak or pitiful—there was no room for him to look down on them.
If that’s the case—if he wasn’t looking down on them—why was he so unwilling?
Of course, Meng Tingjing had clearly humiliated him. Anyone willing to accept that was truly lacking in self-respect.
But what if it wasn’t Meng Tingjing?
Song Yuzhang gave the thought some room to grow.
That night under the flowering tree, when Nie Xueping had pushed him down, came vividly to mind again.
Nie Xueping’s scent and presence were entirely masculine. His arms were strong, and when he pulled Song Yuzhang down, it was as if he had wrapped him entirely in his embrace.
Song Yuzhang closed his eyes slightly, realizing that neither in the moment nor in hindsight did he feel repulsed.
Maybe it was because Nie Xueping’s actions weren’t about domination, but protection.
And somehow, Song Yuzhang never got the sense that Nie Xueping was treating him like a mere pretty boy.
Nie Xueping was half a head taller than him and twelve years older, with a handsome and composed appearance—it was honestly difficult to fit him into the role of a “kept man.”
And as for himself, he certainly wasn’t anyone’s pretty boy.
Maybe... Nie Xueping just liked him?
Song Yuzhang closed the newspaper. Whatever came his way, he’d deal with it as it came. Was he really going to back off from that path just because he suspected Nie Xueping might be a little into him?
Things hadn’t gotten that far. Not yet.
Nie Xueping hadn’t pulled a gun on him or barked at him to get on his knees. He had only offered faint, moonlight-like hints.
So, no—it wasn’t that bad.
In the end, it was still just his feeling.
Even seasoned veterans of love sometimes misinterpret things. Maybe Nie Xueping didn’t treat him any differently than he did Nie Bonian.
Honestly, if Song Yuzhang had a father like Nie Xueping, he wouldn't mind at all.
That evening, Song Yuzhang paid a visit to the Nie residence. Nie Yinbing hadn’t come home all day, and Song Yuzhang was fairly certain he wouldn’t be back anytime soon.
“You better not be here to play peacemaker—I’m not listening.”
As soon as she saw someone from the Song family, Nie Qingyun ran off. Song Yuzhang laughed and said, “Sister Qingyun, you misunderstood. I’m here to see Bonian.”
Nie Qingyun stopped in the hallway. She loved wearing Western-style dresses. Though it was already autumn, she still wore a long saffron dress that bloomed around her as she moved. Turning with a smile, she said, “Bonian’s at the hospital. You better not be lying to me. If you are, I won’t talk to you again.”
Ever since the Song brothers split the family, Song Yekang had been focused on two things: getting his share of the money and getting married—with the ideal being marriage right after getting his share.
He didn’t dare pressure Song Qiyuan for the money, fearing he'd get whipped, so he latched onto Nie Qingyun instead, subtly and not-so-subtly hinting that he’d be thrilled to be a live-in son-in-law.
Nie Qingyun got sick of him fast and dumped him without mercy.
Fiancé? So what if you’re a fiancé? She was Nie Qingyun—if she wanted to dump you, she would! Even if she got married, if her husband annoyed her, she’d kick him to the curb, too!
“I’m so sick of him,” Nie Qingyun said, taking a sip of coffee before complaining, “There was only one tin of Darjeeling left in the house, and now it’s completely gone. I don’t know who eldest brother gave it to.”
Song Yuzhang paused with his coffee. “Gone? Can’t you just buy more?”
“Yuzhang, are you joking with me? There’s none to be found in the entire market. Even the British Embassy can’t get any.”
Leaning back on the sofa with her cup, she sighed, “Ugh, war—I really hate war.”
Song Yuzhang took a sip and began calculating. He had thought to probe a little, but it was clear Nie Qingyun was no fool. Any probing might backfire, so he decided against it.
She seemed to like him, though, and even asked how Song Mingzhao was doing. “I heard he throws fits at school for no reason. The students are all scared of him.”
Song Mingzhao had stayed on at the university as a teaching assistant. Song Yuzhang thought it suited him—no need to socialize, and he had someone to guide him. Someone like Song Mingzhao would be a disaster without a mentor.
“Really? At home, Fourth Brother’s actually been doing quite well.”
“He’s very proud. Maybe he’s just too embarrassed to admit it to you,” Nie Qingyun said with a smile. “Honestly, I used to like him more than your second brother—but then I realized he’s too earnest. That’s no fun.”
While Song Yuzhang agreed, he also recognized in her carefree attitude something a little callous. Then again, when he was with his past lovers, he had never treated them as toys. So maybe he wasn’t quite as callous as he feared.
“Honestly, I really did like your second brother,” Nie Qingyun said, “but he’s just too clingy. Clingy people aren’t cute.”
As Song Yuzhang slowly set down his teacup, he was suddenly struck by a realization—a glimpse of his own femininity. And it truly left him shaken.
As Nie Qingyun watched Song Yuzhang, beautiful as a painting and equally quiet, she found herself quite willing to talk with him. The topics she raised were mostly philosophical—life, death, love, and hate. Having studied philosophy abroad, her views were wild and imaginative, opening Song Yuzhang’s eyes to new ways of thinking.
“Outstanding men can have many women, so why can’t outstanding women have many men? That’s simply unfair,” she said. Song Yuzhang suspected what she had in her cup wasn’t coffee but wine, though her face showed no sign of drunkenness. “Don’t you agree, Yuzhang?”
Song Yuzhang replied, “Nowadays, monogamy is the norm…”
“No,” Nie Qingyun waved a finger, “we ought to return to a matriarchal society.”
Song Yuzhang didn’t quite know what a matriarchal society was, but judging from her tone, he got the general idea. He smiled without agreeing or objecting.
Nie Qingyun began to extol the virtues of matriarchy. If society were matriarchal, she said, then all her ex-boyfriends wouldn’t have to be sad—they could all just marry her. Even if she no longer loved them romantically, she could still offer friendship, and who knows, old feelings might be rekindled.
While sipping his coffee, Song Yuzhang felt mentally shaken. Nie Qingyun was so different from any woman he had known. His thoughts drifted.
A servant came to announce that the master had returned. Nie Qingyun stopped her preaching and reminded him, “Don’t repeat a word of what I said to my elder brother.”
Song Yuzhang smiled faintly and nodded. “Of course.”
Nie Qingyun put down her coffee and slipped away. Although her brother had allowed her to break off her engagement, she knew that treating marriage like a joke wouldn't sit well with him a second time. It was best to lie low for now.
Nie Xueping had been held up at the mine. Upon hearing from a servant that his sister had been entertaining Song Yuzhang, he frowned slightly. “Send him to wait at Bonian’s place.”
Nie Bonian’s courtyard was beautifully decorated. Song Yuzhang stood alone at the gate, gazing up at the eaves. It was autumn, and the dusk carried the faint haze of rising mist.
From the turning corridor, Nie Xueping saw Song Yuzhang’s tall, slender figure in the distance and unconsciously slowed his steps.
Sensing something, Song Yuzhang turned his head toward Nie Xueping’s direction.
Though they were far apart, and Nie Xueping couldn’t see his face clearly, he guessed Song Yuzhang was smiling—and indeed, as he got closer, there was a faint smile on Song Yuzhang’s lips.
“Mr. Nie, is Bonian sick again?” Song Yuzhang asked first.
“The weather’s cooled. His lungs are acting up again. He was coughing all day yesterday.”
There was a trace of unhidden concern on Nie Xueping’s face. Song Yuzhang said, “Don’t worry too much. Bonian’s constitution is still fairly strong.”
Nie Xueping nodded. “You came to see Bonian?”
That was what he’d told Nie Qingyun. But now he only smiled at Nie Xueping. “No.”
He didn’t elaborate. He simply watched Nie Xueping’s expression. As expected, Nie Xueping remained impassive—he turned toward the courtyard. “The pomegranates have all borne fruit.”
Song Yuzhang looked into the courtyard. “Everywhere I go, I smell osmanthus, but here, it’s the scent of pomegranates. Quite unique.”
They stood in silence again. Lowering his gaze, Song Yuzhang noticed a smudge of dust on Nie Xueping’s sleeve. He reached out to brush it off, but before he could touch it, his hand was swiftly caught—so quickly it seemed purely instinctive.
Nie Xueping’s hand was warm. After grabbing Song Yuzhang’s wrist, he let go just as quickly. Glancing down at his sleeve, he noticed the dust and lightly brushed it away. “I just got back from the mine—picked up a bit of grime. Pardon the appearance.”
Song Yuzhang drew his hand back behind him. “That’s hardly impolite, Mr. Nie. You were simply hurrying to greet a guest.”
Nie Xueping’s brushing slowed, then stopped. His gaze lifted back to Song Yuzhang.
Now was the perfect moment for Song Yuzhang to test the waters. But under Nie Xueping’s gentle gaze, it felt as if his intentions had been seen through. Yet there was no hostility in that look—only softness, even a kind of tolerance, as though Nie Xueping saw his probing as the harmless teasing of a child and simply let it slide.
If it had been a child, such a look might cause embarrassment. But Song Yuzhang was no child. He met Nie Xueping’s gaze with a smile, the undertone of testing still present.
Nie Xueping didn’t look away. He simply stood there, quietly watching him.
The faint haze, the moonlight, drifted back into their eyes. That night, which ended so quickly, was still unresolved, and now the unspoken tension lingered between them like a scent in the air.
Mist beaded into droplets on the eaves, formed frost, gathered into pearls, and dropped from the tiles with a soft drip.
When Nie Xueping leaned in, his eyes never left Song Yuzhang’s. There was no pressure in them—just a pure, steady gaze, a warm gleam in his pupils. Song Yuzhang hesitated, but in the end, didn’t pull away.
Nie Xueping’s lips, like the rest of him, were gentle—just softly resting against Song Yuzhang’s. Song Yuzhang, once again, felt no resistance. Neither of them closed their eyes. They stayed close, watching each other with nothing else in their gaze.
Just this closeness—so close it was almost unbearable… Nie Xueping stared unwaveringly, and Song Yuzhang lowered his long lashes, shielding himself from that look.
He had never experienced a kiss like this before. No, it wasn’t even a kiss—it was merely a touch.
So… did Nie Xueping truly like him?
Something stirred in Song Yuzhang. His lips closed gently, the soft bead of his lower lip pressed to Nie Xueping’s, giving a slight suck.
That tender sensation contrasted starkly with Nie Xueping’s usual steadiness. As Song Yuzhang’s lips opened and closed again, Nie Xueping finally responded, lightly taking his lips in return.
From there, everything seemed to progress naturally.
The movement between their lips grew firmer, drawing out a dampness—gradually deepening, mutually opening. And just as they began to tangle, they pulled back slightly—reluctant to separate—then gravitated back together once more.
Little by little, Song Yuzhang forgot who he was kissing, or why he’d come. The wet sound of their kisses filled his ears. Lost in the moment, he placed a hand on Nie Xueping’s shoulder, only to feel Nie Xueping’s hand slide into his hair. He opened his eyes a little—so did Nie Xueping—and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met with a spark. No words were exchanged. Their gazes drifted apart—but their lips came together again, naturally, inevitably…
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