Song Yuzhang: Chapter 76 - Mastermind
Chapter 76: Mastermind
Twice now.
If the first time could be excused as a moment of confusion, the second time—there really wasn’t much room left for excuses.
Desire was desire—no need to pretend or dodge. Song Yuzhang had never been the kind to be coy or indecisive.
He should learn from Nie Qingyun. She didn’t even care about the engagement. He was a grown man—not like he had to marry someone and have kids. What was there to be afraid of?
Song Yuzhang’s hand was loosely held by Nie Xueping. Nie Xueping asked, “Were you waiting for me?”
“I came to see Bonian,” Song Yuzhang said. “And to try my luck.”
Nie Xueping raised his arm, draped it around Song Yuzhang’s shoulders, and slowly pulled him into an embrace. He turned his face and kissed Song Yuzhang on the temple. “How long have you been here?”
“Over half an hour.”
“Have you eaten?”
Song Yuzhang smiled. He had a teasing reply on the tip of his tongue, but it didn’t feel quite right to joke with Nie Xueping like that. As he was smiling, Nie Xueping caught the expression and gently caressed his cheek. “Let’s eat together.”
Nie Xueping took Song Yuzhang back to the Nie household.
They didn’t ride in the same car. Each handled their own. One after the other, they stepped out of their vehicles. Nie Xueping waited at the door. “Mr. Song, after you.”
Song Yuzhang smiled back. “After you, Mr. Nie.”
Like a courteous host and guest, they entered the hall with perfect manners, keeping an appropriate distance. Nie Xueping called over Nie Mao and whispered a few instructions. Nie Mao nodded as he listened, quickly tiptoeing away, but not before smiling at Song Yuzhang. Song Yuzhang returned the gesture.
After Nie Mao left, the hall fell silent with only the two of them remaining. Song Yuzhang rested his hand on the rosewood table, slowly sliding his fingertips across its surface to check for dust. Before long, another hand covered his moving one.
Song Yuzhang looked up. Nie Xueping was gazing at him with gentle eyes. His hand was warm and strong—the kind of grip that made people feel safe.
And then, another kiss.
Right there in the Nie family dining room, bold and unrestrained, their kiss lingered and deepened.
Song Yuzhang was pulled into Nie Xueping’s embrace.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, making the hug incomplete—Nie Xueping only loosely held him, just like his kiss: relaxed, not aggressive.
Was this simply Nie Xueping’s gentle nature, or a step-by-step approach? Song Yuzhang couldn’t quite tell yet. His past experiences seemed to have no effect here. This was someone new, a brand-new relationship. It carried its risks, but also a certain thrill.
The Nie family chef’s cooking surprised Song Yuzhang—it was only average, nothing exceptional.
Nie Xueping had taken off his jacket and neatly rolled up his shirt sleeves. “The head chef used to be in the military. His cooking isn’t delicate. I hope you don’t mind.”
Song Yuzhang nodded. “I’m not picky about food.”
Nie Xueping glanced at him with a faint, gentle smile. “That’s good.”
During the meal, they each focused on their own plates. Compared to the last time they dined together, there was less conversation. Gone were the flowery pleasantries, replaced by a casual kind of intimacy.
Their relationship had clearly deepened.
They’d kissed three times already, Song Yuzhang thought. Of course, they were close now. And Nie Xueping didn’t seem like the type to casually kiss other men.
After the meal, the servants came to clear the table. Song Yuzhang used a handkerchief handed to him to wipe his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked toward Nie Xueping. His expression was calm, unreadable.
Once the servants had all left, Nie Xueping looked at Song Yuzhang again.
Song Yuzhang thought, We just finished eating—surely he doesn’t want to kiss again?
Nie Xueping reached out his hand.
Song Yuzhang hesitated for a moment before offering his own.
Nie Xueping held his hand upright, inspecting it from fingertips to palm. His short, dense lashes drooped, making it hard for Song Yuzhang to read his expression. After a while, he smiled. “A simian line.”
Song Yuzhang smiled as well. “Yes, I’ve got a simian line. So what? Is that a bad thing?”
Nie Xueping lifted his hand, gently folding the fingers into a soft bud, and lightly kissed the tip. “There’s nothing bad about it.”
Song Yuzhang couldn’t quite figure out what exactly his relationship with Nie Xueping was now. Or rather, how Nie Xueping truly felt about him. He definitely liked him, but how much? That, Song Yuzhang couldn’t say. The same went for his own feelings—he didn’t even know what they were.
Bringing it up himself or asking outright seemed inappropriate, like he was demanding a label or some kind of commitment.
They were both men, after all. And besides, all they’d done was kiss. A few kisses—what kind of label did that warrant?
Even though Nie Xueping seemed to really like him, that was just Song Yuzhang’s impression. Nie Xueping hadn’t said anything, so it didn’t feel right for him to ask.
To be honest, Song Yuzhang was a bit uncomfortable with the situation.
When he was with those pretty boys in the past, he never once thought about things like “labels” or “status.” If it worked, it worked. If it didn’t, they parted ways. It was mutual and easy—he could walk away at any time. So why was it that with Nie Xueping, he found himself obsessing over something as silly as “what are we”?
Feeling uneasy, Song Yuzhang stood up and took his leave.
Nie Xueping didn’t try to keep him, only said, “I’ll have someone take you back.”
“Thank you, Mr. Nie.”
Song Yuzhang took the car home. On the way, he recalled everything that had happened between him and Nie Xueping, and it felt like the two of them were a pair of lovers who had hooked up in the wild, muddling their way into intimacy—it practically bordered on an affair.
Well, so be it. An affair it is.
In any case, Song Yuzhang had never intended to seek any sort of “status” from Nie Xueping.
A bit of affection was enough.
That would suffice.
Liao Tiandong finally agreed to go to Song Qiyuan’s other house to look at Xiao Yuxian’s opera costumes and headpieces. Unfortunately, his figure made it nearly impossible to wear them. He could only fondly admire the pieces in his hands. “If we’re talking about poise, I still think Xiao Yuxian’s is better. What do you think, Brother Qiyuan?”
“Xiao Yuxian is better suited for stillness; Xiao Fengxian is better suited for movement.”
“Right to the point. Insightful and profound!”
Song Qiyuan fanned himself while racking his brain, but no matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t figure out what use Liao Tiandong could possibly serve.
The two chatted by candlelight late into the night. Since Song Qiyuan himself didn’t even know what Song Yuzhang’s true intentions were, their conversation remained pure and straightforward. Liao Tiandong was a shrewd man, and at first suspected Song Qiyuan had an agenda and was deliberately trying to get close to him. A late-night meeting like this seemed like a perfect chance to reveal one’s true face. Yet all Song Qiyuan did was talk about opera—passionately and engagingly—so much so that even Liao Tiandong had to admit the two of them were simply opera fans who shared the same interests. His suspicions were finally and completely laid to rest.
Liao Tiandong’s shift in attitude didn’t escape Song Qiyuan’s notice. He was pleased, and also wondered if Song Yuzhang had anticipated this from the start—which would explain why he stubbornly refused to say what the purpose of befriending Liao Tiandong was.
Song Qiyuan couldn’t help but admire Song Yuzhang a little. His admiration was wholehearted and without any resentment. At the same time, he silently resolved—he wouldn’t touch a single cent of that thirty million. He decided to trust Song Yuzhang, to believe that he could save the bank.
“You found him?”
Song Yuzhang held a lit cigarette, slouched into the sofa, looking rather surprised.
“I did,” Shen Chengduo replied with a not-too-big, not-too-small yawn, then smiled. “When you see him, you might not believe it. I didn’t either at first. But I’ve interrogated him for two days—I’m sure it’s him.”
Song Yuzhang said, “If Brother Shen handled it, then I can rest easy.”
When Shen Chengduo’s men brought the person in, even Song Yuzhang was visibly shocked.
The person they brought was a little boy who looked only about seven or eight years old—skin and bones, with a pair of unusually large eyes that shone with hatred.
Shen Chengduo wasn’t exactly a kind soul. He’d caught the person, and regardless of the fact that it was a child, he’d had him beaten thoroughly. Seeing the child covered in wounds, Song Yuzhang asked, “You’re certain this is the one who made the fake notes?”
“I knew you’d doubt it. I didn’t believe it either when I saw the little bastard. But it’s him. Definitely him. Brother Song, you come from a good family background—you don’t know what these poor kids are like. They're sharp as knives from a young age, more cunning than you’d imagine.”
Song Yuzhang studied the boy, eyes circling. He raised a hand and motioned, and Shen Chengduo’s men pushed the boy in front of him.
“Careful, Fifth Young Master, don’t touch him. This little mutt bites.”
Song Yuzhang looked at the boy and asked, “What’s your name?”
“No name.”
The boy’s voice was unexpectedly rough, completely devoid of any childish cuteness. Compared to Nie Bonian, that boy as lovely as a rose, this one was more like a stray dog.
“How old are you?”
“Don’t know.”
Song Yuzhang smiled. “Don’t know your own age?”
The boy wavered a little upon seeing his smile. After a slight pause, he said, “Fifteen.”
Song Yuzhang laughed harder. “Fifteen? Little sweetheart, if you’re going to lie, at least consider your size.”
The boy blushed and gave him a vicious glare before spitting in his direction. The man holding him moved fast and shoved his head down before he could get the full spit out—what landed ended up near Song Yuzhang’s shoe.
“You little bastard, trying to get yourself killed?!”
Song Yuzhang raised his hand, stopping Shen Chengduo from beating the boy.
“Don’t hold him down. Let him raise his head and talk to me.”
The man reluctantly released his grip on the boy’s neck.
Even though he heard Song Yuzhang speak up for him, the first thing the boy did upon raising his head was spit again—this time hitting the leg of Song Yuzhang’s trousers directly.
Shen Chengduo lazily puffed on his cigar and chuckled to the side.
Watching someone like “Mr. Perfect” Song Yuzhang get embarrassed—it was oddly satisfying.
But Song Yuzhang looked completely unbothered. He glanced over the boy and said, “You look about seven or eight?”
The boy glared and stayed silent.
“No need to guess,” Shen Chengduo said, pointing with his finger. “I had a midwife take a look. Kid looks skinny, but he’s at least ten.”
Song Yuzhang nodded. “You can forge fake promissory notes, so you must’ve studied—can you read and write?”
The boy still didn’t say a word. A man behind him gave a low warning: “You little bastard, just because Fifth Young Master is being kind, you think you can walk all over him? Don’t make me beat you into submission!”
The boy trembled slightly—after all, he was just a child. With a face full of resentment, he finally spoke slowly: “I’ve been to school. I can write.”
“You’ve been to school, you can write—so why are you doing something like this?”
“......”
When he fell silent again, the men behind him, already annoyed by his stubbornness, looked like they were about to lose their patience. Only when Song Yuzhang gave them a warning glance did they hold back from striking him.
Song Yuzhang asked, “What about your parents?”
This time, the boy answered quickly. “Dead.”
Song Yuzhang nodded. “No father, no mother—it’s a hard world to live in. But there are many ways to survive through trickery or theft. Why did you choose forging documents?”
The boy was quiet for a moment before replying, “A piece of paper can turn into money. If it works, it’s better than anything else.”
Hearing that, Song Yuzhang no longer had doubts. He asked for paper and a pen, and told the boy to forge something on the spot. The moment he picked up the pen, Song Yuzhang knew they’d found the right person. He thanked Shen Chengduo and said he’d take the boy with him.
Shen Chengduo said, “He’s just a kid—too young. What use can he be?”
Song Yuzhang replied, “If a kid this small can already think of a way to turn paper into money, when he grows up, I’d say even you, Boss Shen, will have to make way for him.”
Shen Chengduo laughed heartily. “Well then, let’s wait till he grows up!”
Shen Chengduo’s men had the boy bound tightly as they dragged him to Song Yuzhang’s car. “Fifth Young Master, he’s filthy and stinks to high heaven. Let me throw him in the trunk.”
“It’s fine, just let him sit in the front…” Song Yuzhang bent slightly and looked at the boy. “You’ll sit up front. Be good and don’t cause trouble, alright?”
The boy glared at him with hatred in his eyes, saying neither yes nor no. But Song Yuzhang still waved his hand and had them place the boy in the back seat next to him—he was worried the boy might suddenly attack the driver, which would be serious.
Luckily, the boy was quiet in the car. He didn’t sit upright, just curled up in a corner.
When they arrived, and Song Yuzhang pulled him out of the car by the ropes, he noticed the boy looked pale. “You…”
Before he could finish, the boy squatted down and vomited violently.
Song Yuzhang couldn’t help laughing. He hadn’t expected this wild-dog-like kid to get carsick.
When the boy finished throwing up, Song Yuzhang said to the driver, “Please take care of the mess, or Old Liu will pass out every time he comes and goes.”
He pushed the boy into the courtyard, calling out as they walked: “Old Liu!”
Hearing the commotion, Liu Chuanzong came running out from inside with quick steps. He was still dressed in his work clothes from his shift, though he’d rolled up his sleeves and had wet hands—he must have been washing something. His expression was the same honest and dull puppet-like face as always. “Fifth Young Master.”
“Busy?”
“Washing vegetables.”
Song Yuzhang nodded, then gave the boy next to him a little push. “Wash him too.”
Liu Chuanzong grabbed the boy and gave him a glance. The boy had just thrown up his guts and was looking a bit weak, but still summoned all his strength to shoot Liu a vicious glare. Though to Liu Chuanzong, that look was no more threatening than a frog by a pond.
“This kid is the one behind the forged documents.”
“Him?”
Even Liu Chuanzong was surprised.
“Yes. Barely ten years old,” Song Yuzhang said with a laugh. “Pretty impressive, huh?”
Liu Chuanzong grunted in reply.
“Get him cleaned up first. Who knows how many days it’s been since he bathed. He stank up the whole car.”
“You’re the one who stinks!”
The boy finally spoke. Liu Chuanzong was holding him, and he began to struggle fiercely, flipping over and exposing his belly. “You stink! I wanna puke just from your smell!”
Song Yuzhang laughed and said to Liu Chuanzong, “Be careful. He bites—and spits.”
“Got it, Fifth Young Master.”
Liu Chuanzong dragged the boy, who was spouting filth nonstop, into the back kitchen.
“I’ll kill you! Let go of me, you bastards!”
“Sons of bitches, you animals that eat people and spit out the bones—!”
Liu Chuanzong covered the boy’s mouth and stared at him with dark, hollow eyes. The boy’s eyes were also black, and he glared back without fear.
Liu Chuanzong said calmly, “Falling into Fifth Young Master’s hands—he’ll keep you alive.”
The boy’s gaze flickered slightly, but still remained fierce.
Liu Chuanzong released his hand and gently patted the boy’s head. He said flatly, “Don’t be afraid.”
----------
If you like my translation, please support me by buying me a coffee:
0 comments: