Song Yuzhang: Chapter 79 - Unite
Chapter 79: Unite
The servants were methodically preparing the meal. From the kitchen came the sounds of bustling activity. As soon as a drawer was opened, the freshly steamed crab roe soup dumplings released an irresistibly mouthwatering aroma.
“Hurry, hurry, get them to the table—once cold, they’ll taste fishy.”
A servant brought the bamboo steamer to the table, accompanied by soybean milk and preserved plums.
“So greasy first thing in the morning,” Song Mingzhao came downstairs, wrinkling his nose despite the fragrance in the air.
The servant said, “We also have plain congee and fried dough sticks.”
Song Mingzhao asked, “Do we have pickled radish? Xiao Yu likes that in the morning.”
“We ran out yesterday. But we do have pickled cucumbers.”
“Then pickled cucumbers it is.”
Just as breakfast was laid out, Song Yuzhang came downstairs. Song Mingzhao personally pulled out a chair for him. “Come eat.”
Song Yuzhang smiled. “Fourth Brother, you’ve really become more and more domesticated lately.”
“You and that mouth of yours,” Song Mingzhao flushed as he sat down. “Do you have to act crazy in front of the servants?”
Song Yuzhang sat and replied, “What? Can’t I compliment you?”
He smiled at the servants as he spoke, and they smiled back. Everyone was already used to how close the two brothers were.
Song Mingzhao felt both happy and uneasy. Ever since that day, he could no longer interact with Song Yuzhang as freely and joyfully as before—there was always a faint distance between them.
A black Cadillac pulled up to the curb. The driver opened the door, and a pair of straight trouser legs stepped out. From there emerged a tall, elegant figure. Champagne-colored suits were hard to wear well, but on Song Yuzhang, it gave off a refined and carefree air of a noble young gentleman. A pale blue silk pocket square adorned his chest, and a diamond tie clip caught the light with a flash. Bank employees nearby had already begun greeting the striking young bank president in advance.
“Good morning, President.”
“Morning, sir.”
Song Yuzhang smiled and nodded as he replied, “Morning.”
Liu Chuanzong had already arrived and was waiting in the main hall. Seeing no new injuries on his face, Song Yuzhang smiled and said, “No beating this morning?”
Liu Chuanzong nodded.
“Not bad. Improvement.”
“There’s a large batch of funds maturing today, along with quarterly interest disbursements. I had Third Brother prepare the money in advance,” Song Yuzhang said breezily as he ascended the stairs. “If we make it through today, things won’t be as tight next month.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hearing the prompt reply, Song Yuzhang smiled, “Aren’t you curious what get-rich scheme I’ve thought up this time?”
“President makes the decisions. I just carry them out.”
Hands in his pockets, Song Yuzhang looked back with a grin. “You trust me that much?”
Liu Chuanzong lowered his head slightly without responding.
Song Yuzhang chuckled and shook his head. “Blind loyalty won’t do. You’d better start questioning me more, or I’ll get too full of myself.”
“Yes, sir.”
he office door opened. Sunlight poured in through the window, casting a vivid flash on the deep red pigeon-blood ruby paperweight on the desk. Song Yuzhang took his seat and said, “Market’s open.”
In the Liu residence, a boy lay bored at the window, looking outside. With nothing better to do, he rummaged around the room, found some tools, and carefully pried open the locked window. He climbed out, strolled leisurely around the courtyard, and eventually climbed onto the wall.
The boy had wanted to escape a few days ago, but now, not so much. Here, he had food and a place to stay. Liu Chuanzong didn’t hit or scold him—so what was there to run from?
He still shouted about escaping every day just to raise his own “value.” He was afraid that if he looked too obedient, Liu Chuanzong would suddenly turn cruel.
People were cheap that way—and needed to be treated with cheap tricks.
He’d stay for now. He was curious what they were planning for him. At worst, he figured, they’d sell him to an opium den as a servant boy, or to a brothel as a houseboy. Either way, it was just one life—what was there to be afraid of?
Perched on the wall, the boy pulled out half a steamed bun from his chest, lay down on the tiles, and chewed it lazily while gazing at the sky, waiting for someone to come out and gossip.
Liu Chuanzong had always been a loner, reclusive and unsociable. Add to that his cold, deadpan expression, and his neighbors had long regarded him as an oddball. Still, he’d always held a proper job at the bank, and there’d been nothing outwardly suspicious. But now that a strange boy had suddenly appeared in his home, the neighbors finally had something juicy to talk about.
The boy listened with relish from atop the wall for three days straight. He thought these neighborhood aunties were too kind—at most, they just speculated he was Liu Chuanzong’s illegitimate son.
Chewing his bun, the boy planned to call Liu Chuanzong something endearing tonight when he got back—just to give the neighbors something truly juicy to gossip about. Otherwise, it was getting boring.
Something like: a mild-mannered, forty-something bank employee secretly raping an innocent young boy.
The boy grinned smugly at the thought of the dirty water he was about to throw on Liu Chuanzong.
“Did you hear?”
“You heard too?”
“Could it be true?”
“No idea!”
“Damn, that creepy Old Liu next door doesn’t look any different. Can it really be?”
When he heard the words “Old Liu,” the boy’s ears twitched. He rolled over to listen more closely.
“Why would he tell you something like that? A guy like him—working at a bank is the only respectable thing he’s got. You think he’d admit the bank’s in trouble and there’s no money left?”
“Who knows if it’s true or not—but I’m taking my money out, just to be safe. Even if I lose a few hundred bucks in interest, better that than losing everything.”
“Exactly. Let everyone know—withdraw your money now, don’t throw away a lifetime’s hard-earned savings!”
The boy heard the hushed chatter, still holding the white steamed bun in his hand. That old geezer only knew how to steam buns—but even a plain bun made from white flour tasted amazing to him. The more he chewed, the better it tasted. He could eat them all day. There was a whole big bowl of them in the house. He could finish it in a day. And when that old man came home at night, he’d steam more for him, heat water for washing his hair, face, hands, and feet...
The steamed bun in his mouth hadn’t melted yet—it sat there sweetly, and each swallow brought a mouthful of sweetness. The boy glanced down at the half-eaten bun in his hand, hesitated for a moment, then climbed down from the wall. Behind the courtyard, he scooped a ladle of icy well water and drank it down. A shiver ran through his whole body. He tossed aside the ladle, stuffed the bun into his shirt, took a few steps back, and with a few agile moves, leapt back onto the wall. Then, through the misty morning fog, he bounded and jumped his way toward the bank at full speed.
Inside the bank, all was calm. Song Yuzhang had prepared in advance. The vault couldn’t be shown to the public, so the cash had been preemptively moved to the front room where legal tender was stored, to ensure the bank could last through the day. Even though this day would cost the bank a huge amount of money, it didn’t matter—Song Yuzhang had already swayed Liao Tiandong. A little more effort would do the trick. As for Nie Xueping, Song Yuzhang didn’t believe their relationship meant much to him, but it was still better than being completely irrelevant.
So, everything was going smoothly, heading in the direction he intended.
Song Yuzhang put down his pen and went upstairs to look down over the bank floor.
There were more people than usual—quarterly settlements, quite normal.
Amid the bustling crowd, someone suddenly burst in—running so fast he was like a bullet shot into the crowd.
A wave of exclamations rose.
“Who is that?”
“Running like that—what, is he in a rush to be reborn?”
The boy stopped in the middle of the grand banking hall, slightly dizzy. He looked up, his gaze sweeping across this golden, resplendent world, finally landing on the familiar figure on the second floor.
He had only seen this man once, but it was enough to remember his face.
The boy ran upstairs without hesitation. The bank’s security guards noticed the disturbance and pointed at him. “Hey, that kid…”
Song Yuzhang also noticed that the one causing a stir was the boy he had entrusted to Liu Chuanzong’s care. The boy was looking straight at him, his eyes dark and bright, fiercely animalistic.
“Stop!”
The boy ran up the stairs with a trail of guards behind him. Song Yuzhang waved them down as he saw them.
“Go get Old Liu.”
Song Yuzhang said to one of the guards, keeping his gaze on the boy’s face. He said with a faint smile, “All cleaned up now—you’re not bad to look at.”
The boy clenched his fists tightly, glaring at Song Yuzhang with intense fury.
Song Yuzhang didn’t panic. Just a kid—was he supposed to be afraid of being bitten? Or spat on?
With interest, he said, “I thought Old Liu had already locked you up. Have you eaten breakfast?”
The boy said slowly, “You brought me back because you want me to risk my life for you, right?”
Song Yuzhang turned slightly, one hand in his pocket, smiling. “What, you’re not willing?”
Seeing how thin and small the boy was, he couldn’t help thinking of Bonian. In the end, they were both just kids—just born into different lives. The disparity in fate was enormous. He dropped his smile and spoke gently, “I don’t want you to risk your life. I just think you’re smart and might be well-suited for working in a bank. You’re not interested?”
The boy’s clenched fists trembled. His face flushed red. “You’re finished.”
“What?”
“You’re finished,” the boy growled through gritted teeth. “Someone’s spreading rumors. Soon a huge number of people will come to withdraw money. Once there’s a run on the bank, this place will collapse.”
Song Yuzhang’s expression shifted. His gaze immediately darted downstairs.
In the crowd that had seemed calm, signs of unrest were beginning to stir. And at the entrance of the bank, an unusually large crowd was starting to surge in.
He turned around, grabbed the boy’s hand, and walked quickly while lowering his voice. “How do you know?”
“I heard it outside. They said your bank has no money left. Doesn’t matter if it’s true—no bank keeps too much cash on hand. Once there’s a run, even the biggest banks can’t handle it,” the boy said urgently as he tugged on Song Yuzhang’s hand.
Liu Chuanzong had arrived. Seeing Song Yuzhang holding the boy’s hand, he was momentarily stunned. Then he heard Song Yuzhang say, “Close the bank immediately!”
“What?”
“Close it!” Song Yuzhang’s face was grim. “Shut down all counters. Say we’re auditing the vault and closing early. Now!”
Liu Chuanzong didn’t hesitate—he turned and headed downstairs, summoned several staff members, gave short orders, and those staff quickly dispersed to the counters, forcing the crowd back and locking the counters shut.
“What’s going on?”
“What are you doing?”
“Hey, I was about to withdraw money—what are you guys doing?”
The crowd grew restless. The security guards were just as confused, but could only follow orders and start pushing people out.
“Everyone out! The bank is closed for today!”
“It’s still early!”
“Why aren’t we allowed to withdraw money?”
Outside, some people still tried to get in. Seeing this, they shouted, “That’s it! The rumors are true! The Song Bank has run out of money!”
A commotion broke out. The guards slammed the doors shut just in time. The people charging forward hit the doors in vain, shouting, “Open the door! Let us in!”
The guards were drenched in sweat. Hearing the pounding and yelling from outside, they exchanged frightened glances. Looking back, the bank hall was in chaos after the evacuation. The employees had all come out from behind the counters, exchanging bewildered and panicked looks.
Upstairs in the office, Song Yuzhang said to Liu Chuanzong, “You stay. Don’t let anyone leave. Everyone is to remain in the bank today!”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m going out the back door now. Make sure to calm everyone down. Wait for me to return—got it?”
“Got it.”
Song Yuzhang opened the office door to leave, only to be met by Song Qiyuan rushing in.
“Third Brother!”
“Fifth Brother!”
“There’s trouble at the bank,” Song Qiyuan said with a furrowed brow. “Rumors started spreading—I rushed here right away. Thankfully, I usually use the back door… What now?”
Song Yuzhang pressed a hand on his shoulder, eyes sharp. “Third Brother, stay here with Old Liu. Hold down the fort. I’ll go out and find a solution. This is the Song family’s bank. Everyone here is part of the Song family. You are the Song family’s third young master. You have to make them believe in you—believe the bank will survive.”
Song Qiyuan’s heart was pounding from the rush. He flung his sleeve and said, “Go—my car is out back, engine’s still running, keys are in it.”
Song Yuzhang let go and immediately rushed toward the back entrance.
Clearly, Meng Tingjing couldn’t wait even a single day longer. The Mid-Autumn Festival mooncakes and his meeting with Liao Tiandong had deeply provoked Meng Tingjing—so much that even while his father was critically ill, he still found time to strike back.
Good. If that’s how it is—then that’s just how Song Yuzhang wants it.
He jumped into Song Qiyuan’s car and sped off toward the Nie residence. Fortunately, Nie Xueping was home today.
Nie Mao, ever respectful toward the Fifth Young Master of the Song family, immediately showed him into the parlor when he said he needed to speak with Nie Xueping.
Song Yuzhang sat down. The coffee had just arrived when Nie Xueping entered.
Perhaps because he was at home, Nie Xueping was dressed in a rare dark robe. It made his already calm demeanor appear even more solemn and unreadable. When he saw Song Yuzhang, he gave a gentle smile. “Mr. Song.”
“Mr. Nie,” Song Yuzhang didn’t bother with formalities—there was no need between them now. He stood up and went straight to the point. “I want to propose an alliance between the Nie and Song families.”
Nie Xueping raised a hand to signal him to sit first.
Once Song Yuzhang sat, Nie Xueping took the seat opposite. Under Song Yuzhang’s intense gaze, he smiled with a touch of helplessness and calm. “Mr. Song, I’m very sorry. Before you arrived, I met with Meng Tingjing—and I’ve already agreed to an alliance with the Meng family.”
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