Song Yuzhang: Chapter 93 - Uncertainty
Chapter 93: Uncertainty
Liao Tiandong never dreamed such a good thing would happen. He had assumed he would have to choose between two sides—whichever side he picked, he’d inevitably offend the other. He had accepted that outcome: when the time comes to make a decision, you make it. He had already chosen to stand with the alliance of the Nie and Song families and was prepared to bear the brunt of the Meng family’s retaliation.
What he didn’t expect was that Meng Tingjing would suddenly change his stance and come knocking on his door—not to seek revenge, but to propose collaboration and investment in the railway construction.
“Building the railway is a good thing. As a Haizhou native, I should naturally contribute in whatever way I can.”
Meng Tingjing said it lightly, but it sent chills down Liao Tiandong’s spine.
“This…” Liao Tiandong reached out for his teacup and missed. Only then did he snap out of his daze. “Someone, bring tea.”
Liao Tiandong had been dealing with Meng Tingjing for over two years now and had seen firsthand how he disciplined his subordinates. Even though Liao Tiandong wasn’t under Meng Tingjing’s command, he still found his ruthless methods terrifying.
Once disloyal, forever discarded—that was Meng Tingjing’s creed. One could not make the slightest mistake under his leadership. And now, Liao Tiandong had silently shifted allegiance. If Meng Tingjing came to kill him, he wouldn’t even be surprised. These past few days, he’d been extra cautious, afraid he might end up dead in the street.
The Transport Bureau wasn’t like higher government offices—he didn’t have any real bodyguards around him. It was a weak position to hold.
Liao Tiandong suspected a trap. After the servant brought tea, he straightened his clothes, crossed one leg over the other, licked his dry lips, blinked rapidly, and gestured, “Let’s have some tea first.”
Meng Tingjing adjusted the hem of his long robe, held the cup in his hand, and said calmly, “Director Liao, there’s no need to worry. I’m entirely sincere. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have come in person.”
Liao Tiandong nodded, sweat forming on his forehead. “Yes, yes.”
After half an hour of discussion, Liao Tiandong was finally convinced that Meng Tingjing not only intended to let him off the hook but genuinely wanted to join the railway project as an investor.
Liao Tiandong, ever the tactful one, said, “Boss Meng, your noble character truly took me by surprise. Haha, a pleasant surprise.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Meng Tingjing said with a faint smile as he let his robe fall back in place. “It’s simply going with the tide. Railways and harbors should each serve their role. It’s not necessarily a life-or-death competition. Haizhou’s growing transportation network is something I’m genuinely pleased about. You, Director Liao, are acting for the greater good—I understand completely.”
Liao Tiandong could hardly believe these words were coming from Meng Tingjing. His scalp itched with disbelief, and he couldn’t resist scratching his head. “Yes, thank you, Boss Meng. It’s good to know we see eye to eye.”
At the racetrack, the sky was high, clouds sparse, and there wasn’t the slightest breeze. Song Yuzhang sat atop a horse, looking down from above, locking eyes with Meng Tingjing in the distance. After the initial shock, he quickly regained his composure and said to Liao Tiandong, “Director Liao, this is indeed a most unexpected delight.”
Liao Tiandong laughed heartily. “Isn’t it, though? President Song, slow down with the riding. Come down and join us for some tea.”
Song Yuzhang glanced at Nie Xueping, whose expression was calm as ever. Then he turned back to Liao Tiandong with a smile. “Then I shall gladly accept your invitation.”
He dismounted, and Nie Xueping followed suit.
Liao Tiandong said, “Boss Meng is very sincere—he’s willing to put up fifty million USD.”
Song Yuzhang patted the horse’s flank lightly. “Oh?”
“Yes, and that’s not all. He also has capable people under him—someone who studied in Germany and has deep knowledge about railway construction.”
“I see.”
Song Yuzhang turned to Nie Xueping again, who said, “Then let’s sit and talk.”
The two handed their horses to the stableboys and, chatting and smiling with Liao Tiandong, made their way toward Meng Tingjing, who was waiting by the fence.
“Brother Meng.”
Song Yuzhang greeted him first.
“President Song.”
Meng Tingjing gave a slight nod and then looked at Nie Xueping. “Mr. Nie.”
“Boss Meng.”
The expressions on all their faces remained composed, but Liao Tiandong knew well there was an undercurrent beneath it all. He wasn’t stupid—he could see there were tensions between the Nie-Song alliance and the Meng family. Who had leaked the news about the Song Bank’s deficit? And who stood to lose the most from the railway proposal? Some things are best understood without being said aloud. Business is war—there are no permanent friends or enemies.
From his perspective, it was best if the three families could maintain a surface-level peace. If they eventually couldn't help but clash, he could simply sit back and enjoy the show. That way, whether advancing or retreating, he’d always come out on top.
Liao Tiandong was keenly aware that with him present, even if the three men secretly wanted to shoot each other in the head, they’d have to pretend nothing was wrong. And he was happy to pretend right along with them.
“Come, sit. There’s no great tea here at the racetrack, but the old tea master here has a real touch. Quite flavorful.”
The four sat under a large parasol while an elderly man in his fifties brewed tea nearby. The slow drifting of tea aroma made the atmosphere feel calm and relaxed.
At least, Liao Tiandong was truly relaxed. What the other three felt, he couldn’t say.
“Haizhou’s commerce is booming these days. Maritime transport alone can no longer meet the demand. Building a railway benefits everyone. Boss Meng has long contributed to Haizhou’s maritime trade,” he turned to Nie Xueping and Song Yuzhang, “and you two gentlemen are also visionary leaders dedicated to Haizhou’s development. Boss Meng has also supported Haizhou’s growth all along—just look at how well his textile factory is doing. Output’s even higher than the foreign yarn mills. The three of you working together would be…” Liao Tiandong brought his hands together in a dramatic gesture, “a union of strength—twice the results for half the effort!”
He beamed, but Meng Tingjing and Nie Xueping both remained composed. Only Song Yuzhang had the courtesy to offer a faint smile. “Director Liao flatters me. I’m the least capable here—can’t compare to these two gentlemen.”
“Eh—”
Liao Tiandong exaggeratedly waved his hands. “President Song, I’ve seen your boldness and charisma firsthand. I truly admire it.” He turned to Meng Tingjing. “Boss Meng, President Song even knows how to wield a sword! His swordplay is no less impressive than Xiao Fengxian’s…” Then he turned back to Song with a chuckle. “Say, President Song, you’re British, aren’t you? The British love opera too. I’d say your skills are fit for a true performer!”
“My late mother loved opera,” Song Yuzhang answered simply.
Suddenly, Meng Tingjing—who had remained silent all this time—turned to face him. “You know how to wield a sword?”
Song Yuzhang smiled and gave a slight nod.
“Why haven’t I ever seen it?” Meng Tingjing said calmly.
The moment he spoke, even the usually talkative and easygoing Liao Tiandong felt the strangeness in the air. Meng Tingjing’s question was far too natural, with an odd kind of intimacy to it—like the two of them were very familiar, as if he ought to know everything about Song Yuzhang. Liao Tiandong had always pegged these two as enemies who smiled on the surface but were digging traps for each other underneath. So why did this sound so… off?
Song Yuzhang replied obliquely, “I haven’t used a sword in a long time—my skills are rusty. Thanks to Director Liao for giving me some face and not minding. Compared to Xiao Fengxian, I’m still far inferior.”
Liao Tiandong gave an awkward laugh—then realized that he’d just casually compared Song Yuzhang to an opera singer. But seeing that Song Yuzhang didn’t look offended, he relaxed a little. Considering Song Yuzhang loved opera, he probably wouldn’t take offense.
The tea was ready. Cups were filled, and the rich fragrance lingered like mist around the group. Liao Tiandong picked up his tea first. “Today’s a good day. Let me raise this cup in place of wine to thank the three of you for supporting Haizhou’s railway project.”
Meng Tingjing had already lifted his cup.
But Song Yuzhang and Nie Xueping hadn’t moved.
Nie Xueping’s thoughts were unreadable, but Song Yuzhang was clearly surprised by Meng Tingjing’s move. He had thought that with Meng Tingjing’s personality, there was no way he would take such a gentle, compromising route. Surely, it would have been a head-on clash. But on second thought, Song Yuzhang couldn’t help but admire the precision of Meng Tingjing’s decision.
The railway was a matter of inevitability. No matter how much Meng Tingjing opposed it, he could at best delay it—not stop the combined efforts of the Nie and Song families.
In that case, it was wiser to go with the flow—retreat to advance—and get involved in the construction. The Meng family already controlled Haizhou’s maritime transport. Who’s to say they couldn’t one day control the railway as well?
And to make such a clear-headed and accurate judgment in such a short time, all while mourning his father—Song had to admit, Meng Tingjing was not to be underestimated.
Perhaps he wasn’t a good lover, but he was undoubtedly a shrewd businessman—and a formidable rival.
The steam from the tea curled in the air. Song Yuzhang leaned lazily against his chair, reached out slowly, and picked up his cup, eyes landing on Meng Tingjing. “Boss Meng, let me also raise this cup in place of wine. I hope we can work well together in the future.”
“Gladly.”
Meng Tingjing hadn’t yet replied, but Liao Tiandong answered for him, eager to smooth things over. Then he turned expectantly toward Nie Xueping. Under Liao Tiandong’s gaze, Nie Xueping also reached for his cup.
Liao Tiandong was overjoyed, blurted out without thinking, “Cheers! Cheers!”
Their cups raised but did not touch—only distant toasts with glances exchanged like silent blows. Each drank, the plain tea entering their mouths—bitter or sweet, the taste was theirs alone to savor.
The discussion was effectively wrapped up. Liao Tiandong stood up, shook out his arms and stomped his feet. “It’s going to get cold soon. These good days won’t last. Haizhou winters are brutal. I need to enjoy this good weather while I can. President Song, Boss Nie—weren’t you two racing when you arrived earlier?”
“Racing? Hardly. Just a casual ride,” Song Yuzhang said as he also stood, tugging on his gloves with a faint smile. “Mr. Nie wouldn’t humor me. Director Liao, why don’t you and I have a little match instead?”
“Sounds great!”
Liao Tiandong waved excitedly. “Let me change into riding gear first.” Humming an opera tune, he swaggered off to change clothes.
Of the four present, only Liao Tiandong was genuinely cheerful. Song Yuzhang watched his retreating figure, feeling strangely calm. In the end, it’s the fence-sitters who remain standing. Old fox.
Just as Song Yuzhang was about to take a step, a long leg suddenly stretched out and blocked his path.
He looked down, then slowly turned his gaze to the right, smiling faintly. “Boss Meng, what’s the meaning of this?”
“I want to race you,” Meng Tingjing said.
“A horse race?”
“That’s right.”
Song Yuzhang gave a small chuckle.
“What,” Meng Tingjing said coolly, “don’t tell me you’re afraid?”
“Afraid? Hardly. If Boss Meng wants a match, I’m game.”
“A wager makes a race more fun, no?”
“What would Boss Meng like to bet?”
Meng Tingjing lowered his leg and stared at Song Yuzhang’s smiling face. The corner of his lips curved slightly—not warmly, but sharply. His gaze was locked onto Song Yuzhang. “Come here, and I’ll tell you.”
Song Yuzhang didn’t move. His gloved fingers laced together, the black leather creaking with a soft “squeak-squeak” as if he were weighing the decision—or perhaps preparing to remove his gloves. Just then, a calm voice came from behind.
“Boss Meng, how about I race with you instead?” said Nie Xueping.
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