Song Yuzhang: Chapter 90 - At the Funeral 02
Chapter 90: At the Funeral 02
When Song Mingzhao shouted those words, he instantly regretted it—but there was no taking it back. Since it was already out in the open, he might as well shout it loud and clear. After all, he and Song Yuzhang were blood brothers—no matter how close or how far, that tie could never be severed. If he kept bottling it up, he would be driven mad!
Resigned to his fate, Song Mingzhao turned around and glared fiercely at Meng Tingjing. “You bastard! You bullied Xiao Yu—I'm going to fight you!”
Like a charging bull, Song Mingzhao lunged at Meng Tingjing. Song Yuzhang reacted quickly, putting down Nie Bonian and rushing forward. “Fourth Brother!”
Song Mingzhao lowered his head and rammed it into Meng Tingjing. Meng Tingjing, hands behind his back and expressionless, allowed himself to be hit without flinching. Song Yuzhang grabbed Mingzhao’s arm and hissed, “What nonsense are you yelling, Fourth Brother? Stop it!”
Song Mingzhao’s face burned with shame and anger. He knew he was making a scene, humiliating himself—but he didn’t care anymore. Everyone already thought he was a fool. What pride did he have left?
“Meng Tingjing, you coward! You don’t even have the guts to admit it! Your father’s body is lying outside, and you still won’t confess to bullying Xiao Yu!” Song Mingzhao shook off Song Yuzhang’s hand and used all his strength to grab Meng Tingjing’s robe and push him back.
Song Yuzhang stumbled backward a few steps, only to feel someone steady his waist. Turning around, he saw it was Nie Xueping. Nie Xueping frowned and asked, “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Song Yuzhang replied quickly.
Just then, Meng Tingjing suddenly grabbed the back of Song Mingzhao’s suit jacket, lifted him almost entirely off the ground, and slammed him heavily onto the floor.
With a muffled grunt, Song Mingzhao hit the ground hard. Song Yuzhang rushed forward again to help him up. “Fourth Brother!”
Lying dazed for a moment, Song Mingzhao suddenly remembered the senseless beating he’d taken from Meng Tingjing in the past. Back then, he hadn’t thought much of it—he’d only worried that Meng Tingjing might do the same to Song Yuzhang. But now, the more he thought about it, the clearer things became. He shoved Song Yuzhang’s hand away and cried out in despair, “You’ve been tangled up with him this whole time, haven’t you?! He beat me like that, and you still sided with him! You promised me you wouldn’t see him again! You lied to me!”
Song Mingzhao scrambled to his feet, covered in dirt and ash, his hand shaking as he pointed at Song Yuzhang. “If you still see me as your fourth brother, then say it clearly today—I’m asking you: the night before last, when you didn’t come home all night, were you messing around with him?!”
Song Yuzhang was speechless. He hadn’t expected the usually docile Song Mingzhao to explode like this, especially at such a time and place. Taking a deep breath, he tried to defuse the situation. “Fourth Brother, you’re mistaken. Calm down—we’ll talk inside.”
“I’m not going into his room!”
Song Mingzhao roared, “Who knows what filthy things you were doing in there just now?!”
“Song Mingzhao!”
That voice came from Nie Xueping. The sharpness of it startled Song Mingzhao, who instinctively turned and glared—this was the Song family’s business! What right did someone from the Nie family have to interfere?
Nie Xueping’s face was stern as he turned to his stunned younger sister. “Qingyun.”
Nie Qingyun snapped out of her daze, immediately picked up Nie Bonian, and covered his ears as she hurried out. Wan Lan also caught on and quickly signaled the other servants to leave as well.
“That’s a good question,” Meng Tingjing finally spoke. His voice was low and icy as he slowly turned to Song Yuzhang. “Who did you spend that night with?”
He had stopped keeping watch over Song Yuzhang after the bank reopened. There was no point—it had already been exposed. Better to withdraw completely.
And now it seemed that very withdrawal had led to something.
Barely containing his fury, Meng Tingjing repeated, “Song Yuzhang—who were you with the night before last?!”
Song Yuzhang’s head throbbed as he desperately tried to think of a way out. Technically, who he spent the night with was none of Meng Tingjing’s business—but if he confessed now, Meng Tingjing would very likely explode, and then things would spiral completely out of control.
Seeing Meng Tingjing’s reaction, Song Mingzhao shouted, “Don’t play dumb with me, Meng Tingjing! Fine, let’s go through it all, one by one! That time—when you barged into our home—Xiao Yu, tell me, didn’t he hurt you?!”
Meng Tingjing ignored him completely, eyes locked on the side of Song Yuzhang’s delicate, handsome face. “If you don’t want to die, get out of my sight.”
Song Mingzhao’s courage was like a match: hot, brief, and fading fast. He knew Meng Tingjing was dangerous. He had lost control and charged once already—but now, even as fear returned, he couldn’t stop. Even if Meng Tingjing beat him to death, he had to die with answers!
“What are you trying to pull now?!” Song Mingzhao charged forward again, grabbing Meng Tingjing by the collar. “That time when he didn’t come home, he was covered in marks—don’t you dare say that wasn’t you!”
Meng Tingjing suddenly shoved him hard, sending him crashing to the ground again. Then he strode toward Song Yuzhang, grabbed him by the collar. “...Tingjing,” Song Yuzhang muttered, turning his face slightly, helpless.
“Mr. Meng.”
Nie Xueping stepped between them, arm extended.
Meng Tingjing stared him down with an icy glare. “This has nothing to do with you. Get lost.”
Nie Xueping’s voice remained gentle. “Mr. Meng, please speak calmly. Don’t use violence.”
“I said—get lost! Nie Xueping, don’t think I’m afraid of you. I haven’t even begun to settle the score for going back on your word!”
Nie Xueping didn’t move, still calm. “This is your father’s funeral, Mr. Meng. Let’s settle this another day.”
“Don’t touch Xiao Yu!” Song Mingzhao had scrambled up again and rushed over to grab Meng Tingjing’s arm. “Let him go!”
Meng Tingjing had actually felt much calmer today. Even when he saw Song Yuzhang, he didn’t fly into a rage. He thought to himself: Meng Huanzhang had taken so many concubines—on the surface, he seemed to have possessed the prime years of these women, but in truth, he had never truly held on to a single one. If he and Song Yuzhang were destined to end up the same way, then what was the point of such a relationship?
To have neither love nor hate—was that not a blank slate, a new beginning?
In any case, they were both still alive. There was still time ahead of them—whether it would lead to love or to hatred, there was still a chance.
“Song Yuzhang,” Meng Tingjing’s voice cooled further as he spoke. He stared at Song Yuzhang’s lowered lashes across Nie Xueping’s arm. “Tell me—who did you spend the night with, the night before last? Or is it that he wronged you, and you merely stayed out all night, doing nothing?”
Song Yuzhang slightly lifted his lashes but looked to Song Mingzhao instead. “Fourth Brother, have you really lost your senses? The night before last, Old Master Meng passed away—how could I possibly have been with Meng Tingjing?”
Song Mingzhao was instantly struck by the realization. His mind buzzed, and his grip on Meng Tingjing’s arm loosened—then tightened again. He demanded, “Then why do you reek of incense ash? What were you two doing in that courtyard just now?”
“Fourth Brother,” Song Yuzhang’s tone sharpened, “think carefully—do you even realize where we are right now? What you’re saying—is it appropriate?”
Song Mingzhao had never seen Song Yuzhang this angry before. His mind was a mess again, and his hand dropped from Meng Tingjing’s arm.
“Even if you’re upset with me, this isn’t the time or place for it. That night, I was listening to Xiao Fengxian sing opera. It ended late, so I stayed out—hardly a big deal. I just didn’t expect you to be so suspicious. Tingjing and I have always been just friends. Don’t wrong him!”
“If you keep this up, we may as well not be brothers at all!”
Song Mingzhao trembled. His pupils quivered with disbelief as he stared at Song Yuzhang, as if he couldn’t believe he’d just said something so heartless.
Song Yuzhang turned to Meng Tingjing with calm eyes. “Tingjing, I’m truly sorry. Today is your father’s funeral. I’m sure your heart is already heavy with grief, and now to suffer this false accusation… please, don’t blame my fourth brother. He’s only acting out of concern for me.”
Song Mingzhao’s hand finally dropped completely.
His mind was a storm of confusion, haunted by the words “marks,” “incense ash,” and “we may as well not be brothers.” A small part of him still wanted to argue, but those few words had crushed the rest of him entirely.
Meng Tingjing still hadn’t let go, his eyes fixed on Song Yuzhang with a gaze that refused to yield.
But seeing that Song Mingzhao had been subdued, Song Yuzhang said calmly, “Fourth Brother, go find Third Brother.”
Song Mingzhao, wooden and dejected, turned and walked out as if pulled by invisible strings.
Only three people remained in the courtyard. Meng Tingjing’s voice turned utterly cold. “Don’t feed me that nonsense. The night before last—who were you with?”
Song Yuzhang replied evenly, “I already told the truth. If you don’t believe me, go ask Xiao Fengxian—ask if he sang for me that night. Don’t take it out on him; he was just doing someone a favor. Tingjing, my fourth brother’s immature—you of all people should keep your composure. I don’t need to remind you what day it is today, do I?”
Meng Tingjing studied Song Yuzhang carefully. Seeing no sign of a lie, he finally let go.
As soon as he released him, Song Yuzhang stepped back and turned to Nie Xueping. “Thank you, Mr. Nie.”
Nie Xueping lowered his arm and said to Meng Tingjing, “Mr. Meng, let’s save business matters for another day. There are still many guests in front. Miss Meng is waiting for you to help.”
Meng Tingjing said coldly, “There’s no need for Mr. Nie to concern himself.”
Nie Xueping smiled mildly. “Then I’ll go on ahead.” He looked over at Song Yuzhang. “What about you, Mr. Song?”
“I’ll head back, too. Who knows if Fourth Brother will make more trouble. Tingjing, you should compose yourself and come out later.”
Meng Tingjing watched the two of them walk away.
The distance between them was neither far nor close—just like the report from the person he’d once had watching them. Song Yuzhang and Nie Xueping interacted with perfect politeness. When they got out of the car, they even took turns letting the other go first.
Nie Xueping was a married man with a child. No matter how you looked at it, there shouldn’t be any ambiguity between him and Song Yuzhang.
Besides, Song Yuzhang had already denied it to his face—said it was only a joke.
There was no reason for him to lie about that. If it were true, Song Yuzhang would’ve known that line would sting—so why take it back and say it was a “joke”?
Even liars sometimes tell the truth. Meng Tingjing believed that part: that it was just a joke. And that kiss earlier… that was real, too.
After walking out of the courtyard, Song Yuzhang finally let out a small breath.
“Just now…” He hadn’t planned to explain, but since he’d lied in front of the person involved, he felt he should. “What I said—that was to spare Tingjing, for his grief. This wasn’t the time or place, so I had to brush it off.”
“I understand,” Nie Xueping replied gently. He turned his face slightly toward Song Yuzhang, his expression soft.
“You’re not mad?” Song Yuzhang asked with a smile.
“I’m not that petty,” Nie Xueping replied with a small laugh.
That made Song Yuzhang feel even more at ease. Seeing no one around, he reached out and took Nie Xueping’s hand. Nie Xueping let him, and even gave a firm squeeze in return.
When the two of them returned to the front hall, the Song brothers were nowhere to be seen. Meng Sushan said they were in the back, so Song Yuzhang went in.
Nie Qingyun was sitting with Nie Bonian in her arms. As soon as Nie Xueping sat down, he took Bonian from her. She fidgeted for a bit, then leaned in and whispered, “Eldest Brother, what happened just now?”
Nie Xueping gently smoothed Bonian’s hair and replied casually, “Just a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?” Nie Qingyun raised her voice but quieted immediately under her brother’s calm gaze. After a while, unable to hold it in, she leaned over while Bonian was off offering incense to Meng Huanzhang and whispered, “Just now I got lost and accidentally wandered into Meng Tingjing’s courtyard. Outside, I heard…”
Nie Bonian came back after offering incense, and Nie Qingyun had no choice but to shut her mouth.
He climbed onto Nie Xueping’s lap and asked her, “Auntie, what were you saying to Dad? I want to hear too.”
Nie Qingyun smiled, “Nothing important.”
At the table, the Song brothers all looked a bit dejected and embarrassed.
Song Yekang was seated between Song Jincheng and Song Qiyuan, who flanked him on either side like guards, watching him closely in case he tried to pull something disgraceful again. He’d already been scolded by the two of them earlier, and now sat with his head hung low, occasionally sneaking a glance at Nie Qingyun across the table—only to see that she wasn’t even looking at him. She was looking at… Song Yuzhang?
Song Yekang subtly glanced at Song Yuzhang.
He was good-looking. Stunning at first sight—and still stunning now.
Song Yekang looked away, heart starting to churn. But it was just churning, not yet turning into resentment. At a time like this, he couldn’t afford to embarrass himself again.
Song Mingzhao was still lost in turmoil. His eyes were fixed blankly ahead, his chopsticks idle in his hand, untouched food in front of him.
The one eating most comfortably was Song Yuzhang. The Meng family’s chefs were indeed extraordinary—every dish exquisitely crafted. If he could, he’d honestly wish for Old Master Meng to rise from the grave just to die again, so he could have another banquet.
The room was eerily quiet. Even the usually energetic Nie Bonian had quieted down. He was an extremely bright child. Though he only half-understood the earlier argument in the courtyard, he could tell the adults weren’t happy, so he obediently stayed silent.
Suddenly, Meng Tingjing motioned to the side. A servant stepped forward, received a few quiet instructions, and left. Not long after, a delicate crab dish was added to the table—placed directly in front of Song Yuzhang.
Nie Qingyun saw it and grew even more certain: the ones kissing in the courtyard earlier were Meng Tingjing and Song Yuzhang.
She now carried a secret in her belly so urgently that it felt like she was ten months pregnant and about to give birth—desperate to get it out.
She subtly observed the two—Meng Tingjing and Song Yuzhang—seated diagonally from one another, without exchanging a single glance.
The more that seemed to be the case, the more convinced Nie Qingyun became that something was up.
She held it in and held it in—until the meal finally ended—and then leaned close to Nie Xueping, whispering, “Eldest Brother, I need to tell you something.”
Nie Xueping picked up Nie Bonian with one arm and replied, “Wait till we get home.”
The Meng family’s funeral customs differed from the Song family’s. They first sent all outsiders away and only then proceeded to carry out the burial, with only blood relatives remaining for the coffin’s final send-off.
The Nie family had no direct relation to the Mengs, so naturally they were among those to leave first. Before leaving, Nie Xueping looked across the yard at Song Yuzhang.
He was standing with his brothers. Song Mingzhao, who had caused the earlier scene, now stood beside him looking utterly crestfallen and deflated.
Nie Xueping looked away and got into the car with Nie Bonian and Nie Qingyun.
Nie Qingyun hesitated, wanting to say something but holding back. It was, after all, someone else’s private matter, and with Nie Xueping’s personality, he’d only chide her for being nosy.
Once home and after Nie Bonian had returned to the courtyard, Nie Qingyun tentatively asked, “Eldest Brother, do you think Meng Tingjing and Song—”
“Don’t gossip about others.”
Nie Xueping cut her off before she could finish. As expected, Nie Qingyun sighed, “Alright then…” Forget it—she’d just keep the secret to herself.
Strangely—or perhaps fatefully—Meng Huanzhang was buried on the same hillside as Song Zhenqiao.
When Song Yuzhang went up the mountain, he briefly fantasized about digging up Song Zhenqiao’s already buried body just to flog the corpse. Of course, that wasn’t possible. So he settled for quietly stepping on the grave to vent.
As Meng Huanzhang’s coffin was lowered into the ground, Meng Tingjing led Meng Sushan and a few younger sisters to each take a turn with the shovel. Then they knelt, burned incense, and bowed. The entire ceremony was silent. Even at the end, it remained hushed. After inserting the incense sticks and kowtowing, Meng Tingjing rose, lifted his robe hem, and turned to bow in thanks to the relatives and guests. The uncles and cousins of the Meng family responded with polite indifference before departing one after another.
Having caused trouble earlier, Song Mingzhao now feared Song Yuzhang might truly ignore him for good. He quietly whispered that the Meng family didn’t get along well and that it was all because no one liked Meng Tingjing.
But Song Yuzhang didn’t think Meng Tingjing was necessarily disliked. Judging from the silent and numb expressions of those relatives, it looked more like they had been crushed under Meng Tingjing’s iron hand for far too long.
But wasn’t every large family like that? Power struggles—no real feelings. The Song family was no different. Maybe that’s why Song Mingzhao clung to him so desperately. He figured he ought to cool things down with him a bit—otherwise there’d be more trouble to come.
Meng Tingjing came to see the Song family off.
In front of Song Mingzhao, he maintained a calm and courteous expression, treating everyone equally as he offered thanks and farewells.
Everything on the surface was polite. Song Jincheng said, “Since we’re all family, let’s head down the mountain together.”
And so the two families descended the mountain side by side, in silence.
Cars were already waiting at the foot of the mountain. Song Jincheng was to accompany Meng Sushan back to the Meng residence, so he boarded a Meng family vehicle with her.
Song Qiyuan was leading Song Yekang away when Song Yuzhang called out, “Third Brother, have Fourth Brother stay with you tonight—you haven’t spent time together in a while.”
Song Mingzhao froze.
Song Yuzhang turned to him with a gentle expression. “Go on, Fourth Brother.”
Meng Tingjing watched as Song Mingzhao, looking hollow and defeated, was ushered into the car.
Once the Song and Meng families had mostly dispersed, Meng Tingjing walked over to Song Yuzhang. With his hands behind his back, he watched the Song family’s car pull away and said, “Was that your way of punishing him?”
“What kind of thing is that to say?”
“He likes you.”
Song Yuzhang turned his face toward Meng Tingjing and suddenly smiled. “I thought you’d be angry.”
“Angry about what? That someone likes you?”
Meng Tingjing had indeed lost quite a bit of weight lately, but his expression had become noticeably calmer. From Song Yuzhang’s perspective, it was like the madness had become less visible, less on the surface.
“What exactly did you promise the Nie family to make Nie Xueping switch sides to support you? Don’t give me those playful answers—I don’t care for them,” Meng Tingjing said coldly.
Song Yuzhang smiled lightly. “Why don’t you tell me first what you promised the Nie family?”
Meng Tingjing turned his head, tone icy. “The chairmanship of the Chamber of Commerce.”
Song Yuzhang’s expression shifted slightly, which Meng Tingjing immediately caught. “You…” he began, but before he could finish, the sound of an approaching car interrupted them.
A black vehicle drove steadily closer and parked near them. Nie Mao got out and quickly opened the back door. Nie Xueping stepped down from the car.
“Mr. Nie?” Song Yuzhang was slightly surprised.
“Mr. Song, Mr. Meng.”
Nie Xueping approached and greeted both of them politely, then turned to Song Yuzhang with a gentle tone. “I figured the timing should be about right, so I came to pick you up.”
Song Yuzhang paused for a moment. Meng Tingjing, more sensitive than most, furrowed his brow. He glanced at Nie Xueping, who was looking at Song Yuzhang with unmistakable softness in his gaze. Meng Tingjing felt something was wrong, but couldn’t put his finger on it—or maybe some part of his mind was forcibly holding him back from thinking too deeply.
Song Yuzhang nodded and said politely to Meng Tingjing, “Brother Meng, then I’ll be going now.”
He turned and began to walk toward Nie Xueping. Just as he took a step, his arm was pulled back.
Song Yuzhang turned his head. Meng Tingjing’s expression was calm, his gaze still placid, almost unreadable.
“Brother Meng, is there something else?”
Meng Tingjing himself didn’t know why he had reached out and grabbed Song Yuzhang’s arm. His hand moved before he could think, instinctively, almost involuntarily.
As he stood there stiffly gripping Song Yuzhang, the latter quietly sighed in his heart. Whether it was Song Mingzhao or Meng Tingjing, whoever needed cooling off needed to be cooled, and whatever needed saying had to be said. Keeping things entangled like this helped no one.
The funeral was over anyway—might as well say it all out in the open. He couldn’t possibly keep hiding this from Meng Tingjing for the rest of his life. A clean break was actually better.
So Song Yuzhang said bluntly, “The night before last, I was actually with Mr. Nie.”
Off to the side, Nie Xueping looked over calmly, without any change in expression.
Meng Tingjing stared at Song Yuzhang as if he were having an out-of-body experience. The face, the expression—everything was still the same charming, debonair man he knew. Even his voice carried that familiar gentle warmth, tinged with an effortless hint of amusement, like he was born to joke and cheer people up.
“Tingjing, this time… it’s not a joke.”
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