Song Yuzhang: Chapter 82 - Return to the Bank
Chapter 82: Return to the Bank
Nie Xueping brought Song Yuzhang back to his own residence.
Song Yuzhang found it rather odd. “Mr. Nie, I thought you wanted to keep our relationship a secret.”
Nie Xueping took his hand and said softly, “You're too young.”
Song Yuzhang didn’t quite understand and gave him a questioning look.
Nie Xueping smiled at him. “You're too young, and I’m too old. An old ox eating tender grass—it’s not exactly a respectable thing.”
Song Yuzhang was momentarily speechless. “Mr. Nie, you’re not old.”
Thirty-two wasn’t old at all—it was the prime of life. Granted, there was a twelve-year age difference between them, but with Nie Xueping’s status and position, even if he were with an eighteen-year-old girl, no one would criticize him for it.
“This year, perhaps not. But ten or eight years from now, I really will be a middle-aged man.”
Song Yuzhang thought Nie Xueping was planning too far ahead. Ten years from now, the chances of them still being together would be slim.
“Am I thinking too far ahead?”
Nie Xueping seemed to have read his thoughts.
Song Yuzhang felt slightly embarrassed. After all, they’d only just gotten together, and while Nie Xueping was thinking about the next decade, his own mind was on completely different matters. He felt awkward inside, but still smiled and said, “There’s no need to think so much. As long as we’re together now, that’s what matters.”
Nie Xueping said, “I don’t particularly care about what others think. It’s just that you’re still young, with a bright future ahead of you—you should have room to choose.”
Song Yuzhang was slightly stunned when he heard that. He looked at Nie Xueping. The side profile of Nie Xueping’s face was as handsome and refined as ever—truly beautiful. So Nie Xueping, in his heart, had already prepared for the possibility that they would part ways someday, and from now on, was already paving a way out for him.
Sensing his gaze, Nie Xueping turned to him and said gently, “Don’t look at me like that.”
“If I truly had your best interests at heart, I wouldn’t have crossed the line at all. But in the end…” Nie Xueping stopped at the bedroom door and pushed it open. “I was still selfish.”
Nie Xueping’s room, like the man himself, gave off a calm and gentle feeling. The furnishings were simple and elegant, mostly made of wood and jade. Song Yuzhang thought of the jade seal and boldly walked toward Nie Xueping’s desk. Sure enough, in a small box, he found several seals—though none were made of jade.
Nie Xueping told the housekeeper to have the kitchen prepare a simple lunch. When he turned back, he saw Song Yuzhang standing at the desk looking through the seal box. He walked over and said, “The one I use most isn’t here—it’s in my study.”
Song Yuzhang looked back.
“The one in the study is jade,” Nie Xueping added.
Song Yuzhang smiled at him.
For the first time, he felt a genuine sense of unspoken connection with someone.
“Go wash up. You’re drenched in sweat and caught a lot of wind on the way here.” Nie Xueping touched his hair, his fingers lightly brushing the roots. “As for clothes, you’ll have to make do with mine for now. You can’t return to the Song residence—it’s likely surrounded by now.”
Song Yuzhang nodded. “I’ll stay here tonight. Please have someone send me to the bank tomorrow.”
“Go on then,” Nie Xueping let go of his hand. “Don’t worry about anything else. You’ve done an excellent job.”
Song Yuzhang headed to the bathroom. He couldn’t quite tell whether Nie Xueping was naturally good with sweet words or just genuinely sincere. As he undressed, he thought how different the two Nie brothers’ ways of speaking were—night and day.
Truth be told, Song Yuzhang was utterly exhausted after the past few days. So many matters were weighing solely on his mind, and he couldn’t share the burden with anyone. The mental fatigue far outweighed the physical. Now that he could finally relax—especially after two rounds of comfort in the guest room—his body and mind both completely let go. He lay in the bathtub, drowsy and about to fall asleep.
“Yuzhang.”
The deep voice came through the bathroom door, startling Song Yuzhang in the tub.
“Don’t fall asleep.”
He sat up at once with a splash, shaking his dazed head.
“I left clothes outside. Don’t soak too long—come out soon.”
“Alright.”
Song Yuzhang raised his voice in reply to show he heard.
A moment later, he got out of the tub, dried off, opened the door, and took the clothes from the stool outside.
It was a robe—dark blue and very soft from wear. As he slipped it on, Song Yuzhang suddenly thought of Meng Tingjing.
He had once worn Meng Tingjing’s old clothes too, back when he’d narrowly escaped death and mistakenly believed Meng Tingjing was his former lover. They might’ve had old grievances, but at least they’d had something between them once—and Meng Tingjing had saved his life.
Who could’ve known that after everything changed, the fake lover became a true former one, and true resentment followed.
Life was unpredictable. Better to cherish the person in front of you.
The Nie family’s master chef had made his signature chicken broth wontons. Nie Xueping urged Song Yuzhang to eat a little. “Have something, then take a nap and rest well.”
Song Yuzhang sat down and picked up a spoon. “The bank must be in chaos by now.”
“No rush. The police have already gone over to maintain order.”
“Let them make a scene while they can. The messier it gets, the more thoroughly the problem will be solved.”
“Do you need money?”
Song Yuzhang scooped up a wonton. “Yes—cash. U.S. dollars or British pounds would be best. But I’m only borrowing it. I’ll pay it back immediately.”
“That’s no problem. Eat slowly.”
“I'm starving,” Song Yuzhang took a sip of the chicken soup and sighed. “These past days, I haven’t been eating or sleeping well.”
Nie Xueping gently touched the top of his head. “Sorry, I haven’t paid much attention to how others’ businesses are doing.”
Song Yuzhang could tell from Nie Xueping’s attitude toward Nie Qingyun and Song Yekang’s engagement that Nie Xueping had never taken the Song family seriously. He waved his hand again. “I know.”
Song Yuzhang finished a bowl of chicken soup wontons in one go. Nie Xueping handed him a handkerchief to wipe his mouth. “Get some sleep. I’ll go get the money.”
Song Yuzhang gave a small grunt in response, stood up, then changed his mind. “Mr. Nie, do you have any gold?”
“Gold?”
“You do business with those in the mining trade—you must have collected a fair amount of gold, right?”
Nie Xueping gave a slight smile. “Yes.”
“How much?”
Nie Xueping replied tactfully, “Quite a bit.”
From that, Song Yuzhang already understood.
“In that case, Mr. Nie, I’d like to borrow 30 million U.S. dollars for liquidity. The loan term…” Song Yuzhang paused to think, “Let’s say one year. I’ll return it with three percent interest. Also, I’d like to borrow as much gold from the Nie family as you’re willing to lend—however much you have. I only need it for one day. Mr. Nie, would you agree?”
Before Nie Xueping could answer, Song Yuzhang added, “Please consider it carefully. Don’t say yes too quickly. If you agree too readily, I’ll feel like maybe I’ve influenced your judgment.”
Nie Xueping smiled. “I don’t let feelings cloud my judgment on matters of right and wrong. I thought you already understood that from our earlier conversation.”
Song Yuzhang nodded. “I hope so. When it comes to money and emotion, I hope we can keep them separate.”
Nie Xueping looked at him with gentle eyes. “I understand.”
“Then please think it over seriously, Mr. Nie. I’ll take a nap for now.”
Bathing and eating together was truly enough to make one drowsy—especially when Song Yuzhang was already exhausted. With his mind still full of what needed to be done the next day, there was no space for anything romantic. He just wanted to rest properly, and so he fell asleep almost the moment he lay down, surrounded by Nie Xueping’s scent.
When he awoke, the room lights were already on. The wall lamps beside the bed cast a soft glow, but Nie Xueping was gone. Song Yuzhang got out of bed, and just as he stepped outside the courtyard, Nie Mao came up to him. “Fifth Young Master, you’re awake.”
Song Yuzhang held the doorframe. “Where’s Mr. Nie?”
“Mr. Nie is entertaining guests.”
Song Yuzhang gave an ‘oh.’
“Are you hungry, Fifth Young Master? Would you like something to eat?”
Song Yuzhang pressed his stomach. “Anything sweet? I feel like having something sweet.”
“Certainly. Please wait a moment—it’ll be ready right away.”
Nie Mao ran off on tiptoe, also instructing the servants to inform Nie Xueping that Song Yuzhang had woken up.
Nie Xueping was in the reception room. When a servant came in and whispered something in his ear, he slowly nodded and turned to his guest. “I’m terribly sorry—something urgent has come up at home.”
“Of course, Mr. Nie. Please, go ahead.”
Nie Xueping stood up and instructed the servant to see the guest out. He then returned to his courtyard. There, he found Song Yuzhang eating a bowl of rice wine glutinous rice balls. It was an ordinary scene, but the moment Nie Xueping saw it, a smile appeared on his face.
He liked watching Song Yuzhang eat—it made him feel at ease.
Song Yuzhang was eating with complete focus, paying no attention to Nie Xueping’s return. He finished two big bowls and drank down the soup as well, then contentedly shook his head and patted his belly. It was still flat, but his abs had disappeared—softened by the warm, sweet food.
To Nie Xueping, it was all beautiful.
Song Yuzhang spent a peaceful night at Nie Xueping’s place. With his mind consumed by the tasks ahead, there was no romantic distraction—only a focus on resting well. So he slept deeply and soundly.
When he woke up, his clothes were all prepared. This time, they weren’t Nie Xueping’s old clothes. Nie Xueping was reading the newspaper. “I had someone fetch a ready-made suit from your usual tailor. You can put it on.”
A ready-to-wear suit from the Parisian tailor was excellent quality. Song Yuzhang had the build of a natural clothes hanger. The black suit fit him perfectly, making him look like a modern gentleman straight out of a fashion magazine.
“You look great.”
Nie Xueping said with a smile.
Song Yuzhang pointed to the dark red silk handkerchief at his chest. “Is this yours?”
Nie Xueping smiled without answering. “The car is ready.”
Song Yuzhang walked over and gently kissed Nie Xueping’s forehead. “Wait for me to come back.”
A total of five cars rolled out of the Nie residence in grand fashion. Song Yuzhang directed them to head to the Shen residence first.
Shen Chengduo had barely slept all night. When he saw Song Yuzhang arrive, he leapt down with both feet off the ground. “What the hell is going on?!”
Song Yuzhang waved a hand. “I need people—the more the better.”
Shen Chengduo was about to start cursing, but then he noticed the Nie family’s cars behind Song Yuzhang. He immediately toned it down, his expression suspicious. “What are you up to? Hiding this from me for so long?”
Song Yuzhang smiled. “Let’s bring the men along first. Just in case—have them all bring guns.”
The bank was surrounded so tightly not even water could get through. Fortunately, the side entrance was well hidden—shared with the back door of the department store—so no one noticed, and Song Yuzhang was able to enter the bank without trouble.
It was still early. The bank interior was pitch dark. Song Yuzhang walked to the wall and flipped on the lights with a click.
The main hall of the bank was spotless, no trace of yesterday’s chaos. As soon as the lights came on, some employees sleeping behind the counters groggily sat up. Once they saw who it was, they cried out in surprise, “President!” and immediately began shouting, “The president is back!”
Upstairs, Song Qiyuan, who had been half-awake, immediately jumped to his feet. When he saw Song Yuzhang smiling at him from the floor below, the tension he had carried all night finally lifted. Song Qiyuan rushed down the stairs and pulled Song Yuzhang into a hug.
“I knew you’d come back!”
Song Yuzhang patted him on the shoulder and laughed. “What, Third Brother, did you think I’d run away?”
Song Qiyuan tightened his arms. “Bastard. Don’t joke like that.” He let go of Song Yuzhang, but worry had returned to his face. “The bank opens in two hours. You coming back alone isn’t enough!”
“What’s the rush? Shen Chengduo—move faster!”
At 8:20, the area outside the bank was packed with people. Liao Tiandong fumed, “Call the constables! Have them maintain order—get this crowd dispersed!”
“Yes, sir!”
Soon, men from the constabulary arrived, blowing whistles and waving batons, forcibly dividing the crowd into two lines.
Wearing a light-colored changpao, Meng Tingjing stepped out of his car. The autumn morning was crisp, and the breeze stirred his slightly overgrown hair. His beautiful face was expressionless. He looked up at the gilded dome of the bank and squinted slightly against the dazzling light.
Strangely, he should have felt happy at this moment—but for some reason, he felt absolutely nothing inside.
Not a single trace of emotion.
Just calm—so calm it bordered on numbness.
Soon, this place would collapse. Someone would fall into despair. And he was the one who had pushed him there. He had given him a chance—it was he who refused it. So now, he could blame no one but himself.
Meng Tingjing stood quietly outside the car, staring at the bank’s tightly closed doors.
He was waiting for those doors to open—waiting for them to be trampled to dust. Then he would save him, drag him out from inside, and hold him tight in his grasp. From his flesh and bones, he would squeeze out tears, squeeze out blood—and every drop of those tears and that blood would belong to him alone.
Some lovers are matched by fate. Others are forced together.
If fate hadn’t made them a pair, then he would force it to be so.
8:30.
The bank’s opening hour had arrived. The crowd was visibly agitated. Meng Tingjing stood not far from the throng, watching everything unfold with an unreadable expression.
The doors began to move.
Liao Tiandong, who had been waiting, was the first to surge forward, followed closely by several officials.
The constables blocked the crowd, barking, “What’s all this noise? Line up!”
“Why do they get to go in first?!”
“Move! We want our money!”
“We want our money!”
The furious chanting surged like waves through the gap in the door, spilling into the bank. Liao Tiandong and several others stood grim-faced at the front, waiting for the doors to open.
The two large doors were pulled fully inward. Just as Liao Tiandong and the others prepared to rush in, their feet froze. They couldn’t move an inch. Everyone stood there, stunned by the scene before them.
Inside the bank’s grand hall stood a towering pyramid.
At its base—blindingly bright—were solid gold bars, stacked layer upon gleaming layer, dazzling to the point of pain. Atop the gold were layer upon layer of U.S. dollars, stacked so high they nearly reached the crystal chandelier overhead.
Inside and outside the bank, silence fell. The overwhelming display of wealth stunned everyone to their core. In their eyes, there was only the golden mountain—and the man standing atop it.
Song Yuzhang stood alone on the second floor. He smiled faintly and spoke, his voice ringing clearly through the vast, empty bank: “Who said the bank was out of money?”
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