Song Yuzhang: Chapter 74 - To Change the World
Chapter 74: To Change the World
The autumn wind gusted beneath the eaves, but the warmth between the two was intense. Their lips were locked in a kiss, and their hands had unknowingly found each other—lightly clasping just at the fingertips. Nie Xueping’s fingers, naturally, didn’t possess the slender elegance of long, tapering hands; in fact, they were a bit rough, with traces of dust or powder on the pads.
All of this information filtered into Song Yuzhang’s mind, making it unmistakably clear that the one he was kissing now was a tall, handsome widower—Nie Yinbing’s older brother, Nie Bonian’s father, the famously wealthy and enigmatic tycoon of Haizhou: Nie Xueping.
Not only did Song Yuzhang not feel repulsed by kissing Nie Xueping, he even felt a faint thrill—one that was tinged with excitement and different from kissing anyone before.
Nie Xueping was always so proper, so distant, that a kiss like this felt almost like sacrilege to him.
Even if there were no benefits to gain from it, Song Yuzhang was quite willing to kiss Nie Xueping.
The feeling was extraordinarily good—far better than he’d imagined. Maybe it was because he’d been holding back for too long, but just kissing Nie Xueping was enough to make his blood stir.
Song Yuzhang suddenly realized that even without a pretty face, someone could still make him feel something.
As for Nie Xueping, in fact, the night before Mid-Autumn Festival at the small residence, Song Yuzhang had already vaguely sensed something—but the surprise had been too much for him to be sure. Nie Xueping was Nie Bonian’s father, a man who already had a child—he just didn’t fit into the usual frame of romantic gossip.
To even associate him with that idea felt strangely taboo.
Song Yuzhang had never imagined he would become involved with someone who was already a father.
But it had indeed happened—and it was unexpectedly satisfying, without the slightest feeling of discomfort or aversion.
Nie Xueping’s kiss was just like the man himself—restrained yet tender, generous in its embrace.
Perhaps it was time for a change of taste?
Song Yuzhang was still holding Nie Xueping’s hand when he slowly drew back his lips. Nie Xueping didn’t lean in again. There was a mutual understanding between them—one that made Song Yuzhang feel that in this kiss, he still had room to breathe, that he wasn’t being forced.
This was the second man taller than him that Song Yuzhang had ever kissed. Compared to the first one, this felt far better. Kissing Meng Tingjing was like a fight; kissing Nie Xueping… that was just a kiss—deep, lingering, comfortable, and surprisingly unburdened.
“Mr. Nie.”
Song Yuzhang spoke first.
“It’s getting late. I’ll be heading back now.”
He began to slowly withdraw his fingers. Nie Xueping’s hand loosened, allowing Song Yuzhang to slip away and pass around him.
Nie Xueping stood quietly under the eaves. Only after Song Yuzhang had walked some distance did he turn and take a few steps, then instructed a servant to tell Nie Mao to escort Song Yuzhang home.
“Fifth Young Master—Fifth Young Master—”
Nie Mao rushed after Song Yuzhang, half-running and half-tripping with his long gown. Thankfully, the Nie estate was large enough—otherwise, he might not have caught up in time to fulfill Nie Xueping’s order.
Song Yuzhang stopped. “What is it?”
Panting, Nie Mao said, “I’ve come to see you off.”
Song Yuzhang laughed. “We’re practically at the gates already. No need to bother—you should go back.”
Nie Mao insisted, “No, I have to. The master told me to escort you home. Bandits’ve been prowling outside the city lately—it’s not safe.”
The Nie family’s car followed behind the Song family’s car. Sitting inside, Song Yuzhang rested his arm on his knee, gently rocking with the motion. He couldn’t help but touch his chin, thinking to himself—so Nie Xueping really does like him.
Now that the paper window had been pierced, everything that had previously happened between them took on a completely different hue.
Thinking back carefully, Song Yuzhang couldn’t quite tell when Nie Xueping had started developing feelings for him.
What happened during the Mid-Autumn Festival spoke for itself.
A bright moon rises above the sea; from afar, we share this moment.
Lovers resent the long night, and all night they think of each other.
Song Yuzhang’s cheeks grew a little hot and tingly.
It wasn’t his first time experiencing romance—but he’d previously always played the role of the one giving affection; rarely had he been receiving such doting care.
His thoughts paused.
Was Nie Xueping… doting on him?
Put that way—it didn’t sound too bad.
In all of Haizhou, there wasn’t a second tin of that tea, and yet Nie Xueping had given it to him so casually.
That lamp, that painting, that jade seal… jade seal. Song Yuzhang suddenly wondered—could it be that Nie Xueping had already taken a liking to him back then?
Thinking back to that night, he and Nie Bonian had been swinging in the garden—had Nie Xueping really come looking for Nie Bonian? When Nie Qingyun took Nie Bonian away, hadn’t he told Nie Xueping?
He couldn’t let himself keep thinking. Any further, and it would start sounding vain.
When Song Yuzhang returned home, Song Mingzhao was waiting to eat with him. Song Yuzhang waved his hand and said he wasn’t hungry, then went upstairs.
But Song Mingzhao wasn’t about to let him skip dinner. He chased after him, saying, “You’ve been so busy all day—how can you not eat? Even if you have no appetite, you still have to eat something. The kitchen made your favorite crab tofu tonight—the crabs were all fresh and lively.”
He rambled on for a bit, but noticed that Song Yuzhang seemed distracted, clearly not listening. Song Mingzhao grabbed his sleeve. “Xiao Yu! Did you hear what I said?”
Song Yuzhang paused, turned his head calmly and said, “I’m just going to change clothes first. I’ll come down to eat in a bit.” He patted Song Mingzhao’s cheek and smiled. “I heard you—crabs.”
Still, Song Mingzhao felt something was off. His gaze scanned Song Yuzhang’s face, then paused on his lips.
Today, Song Yuzhang’s lips seemed especially red, especially moist.
Song Mingzhao’s gaze was too obvious—Song Yuzhang noticed it. He let out a soft sigh and explained under Song Mingzhao’s worried expression, “Fourth Brother, don’t be upset. I was just thinking about the bank.”
“Oh,” Song Mingzhao replied, “I’m not upset. I’m just worried about you.”
“I know,” Song Yuzhang smiled. “I know you care about me the most.”
He went upstairs. As he took off his coat, he caught a faint scent of herbs and wood—and the image of kissing Nie Xueping floated once again to the front of his mind.
He wasn’t sure if it was because he’d been holding back for too long, or if it was the kiss with Nie Xueping itself that was so stimulating—either way, Song Yuzhang seemed especially excited today.
He turned and lay down on the bed.
With his eyes half-closed, his Adam’s apple bobbed slowly. He swallowed, savoring the taste in his mouth.
Downstairs, Song Mingzhao waited for a while, but Song Yuzhang still didn’t come down. He told the kitchen to reheat the dishes. He stood up, intending to go upstairs and call him, but hesitated—afraid Song Yuzhang would find him annoying. Sometimes, he himself felt that he was too controlling toward Song Yuzhang, possibly to the point of being irritating.
Song Mingzhao rested his chin on one hand, tracing circles with his finger on the table. One circle after another, each one reminded him of Song Yuzhang. The more circles he drew, the wider and larger they became. He forced himself to wait patiently, but when Song Yuzhang still didn’t come down, he couldn’t take it anymore. He decided to just go upstairs.
The door to Song Yuzhang’s room was never locked. It was just the two of them living in the house—two close brothers—there was no need to avoid each other, so there was never any reason to lock the door. Song Mingzhao always came and went freely.
When he pushed the door open, he didn’t call out. He figured maybe Song Yuzhang was just too tired and had fallen asleep. He’d come up to wake him, but his steps were light and cautious—he didn’t want to startle him. Quiet as a cat, he passed through the sitting area and approached the bedroom, but found the bed empty.
That struck him as odd. Where had Song Yuzhang gone?
After looking around the room briefly, he suddenly heard some movement from the bathroom.
So he was in the bathroom. A playful, mischievous impulse rose in Song Mingzhao’s heart. Still moving quietly, he tiptoed to the bathroom door, placed his hand on it, and leaned his ear close to listen. The moment he heard something, though, his hand recoiled like it had been burned.
His face turned red, and he turned to leave—but couldn’t seem to make himself move. Somehow, his hand drifted back to the doorknob.
He was actually having thoughts of peeking.
Peeking was wrong. But if it was Song Yuzhang he was peeking at… Song Mingzhao stubbornly believed, deep down, that Song Yuzhang belonged to him. Maybe not completely, but at least in large part. So—just one look wouldn’t hurt!
Thinking this, his hand tightened slightly, as if to turn the knob. But the moment he applied any pressure, he hesitated.
He stood motionless, not blinking, barely breathing.
His legs refused to move or turn away. He just stood there, frozen. Logically, there was nothing to see—it was just another man in there. And he himself was also a man...
Song Mingzhao bent slightly at the waist.
He told himself he had to leave. Now.
Any longer and it would be truly shameful.
He tried to crouch down slowly—but his feet wouldn’t listen. His hands clung to the doorframe like it was his only support. His mind drifted far away, and he didn’t come back to himself until the door suddenly opened. Startled, he cried out and fell back onto the floor.
Song Yuzhang stood with one hand on the door, looking down at him. Seeing how disheveled he looked, he chuckled. “Fourth Brother, what are you doing crouched here?”
Song Mingzhao stared up at him in a daze.
Song Yuzhang was always handsome, effortlessly so—but now, he looked even more beautiful than usual. A faint flush colored his face, and his eyes had a luminous glow.
Song Mingzhao knew exactly what that expression meant. His eyes dropped quickly, locking onto Song Yuzhang’s flawless hands hanging at his sides.
His fingernails were delicately pink, his skin pale and smooth.
Song Mingzhao stared fixedly, then suddenly curled in on himself like he’d been startled again.
Song Yuzhang said, “Couldn’t wait, so you came up to call me?”
He reached out to help Song Mingzhao up, but Song Mingzhao flinched and backed away. Scrambling to his feet, he mumbled, “Let’s go eat.”
“Alright. I’ll be right down.”
Song Mingzhao turned and practically fled down the stairs.
Only when he reached the next floor did he stop, breathing hard. In his mind, he couldn’t stop replaying the image of Song Yuzhang just now.
Who was it? Who had stirred up such feelings in Song Yuzhang?
And what exactly had he been doing in there?
Song Mingzhao felt weak in the knees. Holding onto the banister, he was dizzy and uncomfortable. He touched his own face—it was burning hot. Looking down at the stairs, layer upon layer, he felt like one misstep would send him tumbling into an abyss. He shivered and thought: “Starting today, I can’t sleep with Xiao Yu anymore.”
A sudden sadness crept into his heart—like a mountain collapsing or a flood overtaking him, an inescapable, suffocating grief. In his mind, he numbly repeated: “…I can’t sleep with Xiao Yu anymore.”
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