Song Yuzhang: Chapter 94 - Rivalry in Love
Chapter 94: Rivalry in Love
Song Yuzhang turned his face.
From the moment Liao Tiandong brought Meng Tingjing over, Nie Xueping had been uncharacteristically quiet. Song Yuzhang understood how he felt—Meng Tingjing investing in the railway didn’t really matter much to him; as long as the railway got built, he would profit regardless. But for Nie Xueping, Meng Tingjing’s sudden involvement meant an unpredictable new variable in the railway’s control. If it were him, he’d probably be in a foul mood too.
Nie Xueping put down his teacup and leaned slightly forward. His gaze rested gently on Song Yuzhang’s face—calm and serene, carrying a quiet sense of reassurance.
“Very well,” Meng Tingjing stood up crisply, “I’ve long heard that Mr. Nie’s riding skills are exceptional. Perfect opportunity today for a little match.”
“I wouldn’t dare claim that,” Nie Xueping replied with a faint smile, “I can only barely manage a horse.”
When Liao Tiandong returned in his riding clothes, he saw that Nie Xueping and Meng Tingjing were already mounted at the starting point of the track, side by side. He pointed at them, surprised: “What… Mr. Nie and Mr. Meng are racing already? And Mr. Meng didn’t even change clothes?”
Meng Tingjing was still dressed in a long black robe, the hem lifted to the right side, revealing snowy-white trousers beneath, which only made his figure on horseback seem even more elegant and strikingly cold.
Nie Xueping wore a dark riding outfit, poised and composed, exuding calm nobility.
The two sat astride their horses side by side, but each looked straight ahead without glancing at the other.
Song Yuzhang had returned to his seat under the parasol and ordered another pot of tea. He sat cross-legged, slowly removing his gloves one finger at a time. To a baffled Liao Tiandong, he said unhurriedly, “Director Liao, come sit and watch the show.”
Liao Tiandong wasn’t in the mood for a “show.” In fact, he felt vaguely uneasy.
If it were Song Yuzhang racing, he wouldn’t have thought much of it—Song Yuzhang always had that dandyish charm, someone who enjoyed fun and played well. Watching a race or a performance with him would feel perfectly natural.
But Nie Xueping and Meng Tingjing were clearly not that kind of person.
Liao Tiandong knew Meng Tingjing fairly well—aside from slapping people, the man had no other lively or healthy hobbies. He was stern and strict, not one for pleasantries. Every meeting with him had Liao Tiandong bored to death.
As for Nie Xueping, Liao Tiandong didn’t know him well—he kept to himself in Haizhou, rarely giving others the chance to know him. But judging from recent interactions, Liao Tiandong had gathered that Nie Xueping was a deeply reserved man, not one to wear his emotions on his sleeve.
The sight of these two racing didn’t feel like sport—it felt more like a duel.
Liao Tiandong cautiously sat down and edged a little closer to Song Yuzhang. “Why are Mr. Nie and Mr. Meng suddenly so spirited today?”
Song Yuzhang had taken off his gloves and placed them on the table. “Hot-blooded youth.”
“Hot-blooded?” Liao echoed. “Mr. Meng’s idea?”
Song Yuzhang smiled slightly. “Who do you think will win, Director Liao?”
Liao Tiandong looked toward the two figures. Both were riding tall, magnificent horses, posture upright and commanding. The horses snorted and pawed the ground, ready to explode forward. The stablehands pulled back the barriers.
“I’ve never seen Mr. Nie ride, but Mr. Meng…” Liao paused, then admitted sincerely, “I’ve never seen Mr. Meng fail at anything.”
“Is that so?” Song Yuzhang rested a finger beneath his lip. “Then I’ll be watching with great interest.”
The race began silently.
The black horse and red horse sprang out almost at the same instant. The pounding hooves echoed like war drums, yet the race itself was eerily silent and tense. Neither rider spoke a word, each bent low over the saddle, urging their horse forward.
Liao Tiandong unconsciously put down his crossed leg.
Nie Xueping clearly had impressive riding skill—steady as a rock on the horse, with only his reins-bearing arms swinging powerfully in rhythm with the galloping red horse. His muscles were taut with control and strength, the speed giving the impression of slicing through the wind.
Meng Tingjing, not in riding gear, wore a long black robe that whipped in the wind, making him look like he had fused with his sleek black steed. His white trousers clung tightly to his muscular legs with the gusts, the contrast of black and white dramatically striking.
As the horses tore past the field of view, Liao Tiandong couldn’t help but gape.
“This…”
He turned to see Song Yuzhang half-reclined under the parasol, smiling faintly, eyes bright and focused on the two racing figures. Yet it was impossible to tell which of them he was watching more closely.
Liao Tiandong quickly looked back at the track. The red and black horses were neck and neck, practically brushing against each other, neither giving an inch as they surged forward. Liao Tiandong clenched his fists in excitement and stood up.
The thunderous hooves kicked up clouds of dust. Amidst the silence broken only by the sound of hooves and wind, the two riders finished the third lap almost simultaneously and reined in their horses at the starting point.
Liao Tiandong, both nervous and disappointed, slapped his thigh. “What a shame! No winner!”
Song Yuzhang smiled, “It was just for fun. No need to be so fixated on winning or losing.”
“Whoa—”
Meng Tingjing yanked the reins, leaning back slightly as he turned his horse toward Nie Xueping. His tone was cool: “Mr. Nie, age hasn’t slowed you down at all.”
Nie Xueping was stroking his red horse’s ear. He smiled faintly, “Mr. Meng, clearly you’re a youthful prodigy. The outfit held you back.”
Meng Tingjing looked down at his robe. “A loss is a loss. I don’t make excuses.”
“No win, no loss. Peace brings fortune. Isn’t that better?”
“That may be true in business. But in some matters, unless there’s a clear win or loss, I can’t rest.”
“Is that so? I tend to think some things aren’t so easily settled by winning or losing…”
“A true master hides his skills well—”
Liao Tiandong walked over, clapping enthusiastically. “Mr. Nie!” He gave a thumbs-up. “Mr. Meng!” Another thumbs-up. “Incredible, both of you. Absolutely evenly matched. You two really are the pillars of Haizhou!”
Meng Tingjing, still on horseback, looked into the distance at Song Yuzhang, who sat under the parasol, head bowed, sipping tea.
Nie Xueping had dismounted and walked toward the parasol while removing his gloves. He said something quietly to Song Yuzhang, who pointed at a teacup on the table. Nie Xueping sat beside him, picked up the cup, and took a sip. Song Yuzhang reached out and gently brushed a hand across the side of his temple.
Liao Tiandong didn’t know why Meng Tingjing’s face suddenly darkened. He flung the reins aside and leapt down from his horse.
“Mr. Meng?”
“There’s something I must attend to at the port. I’ll be going ahead.”
Back under the parasol, Liao Tiandong said to the two seated men, “Mr. Meng had something urgent and left.”
Song Yuzhang nodded. Nie Xueping made no reply. Liao Tiandong said, “Mr. Nie, your riding skill is really impressive. Did you train somewhere?”
“I rode more often during my school days.”
“Ohh,” Liao Tiandong drew out the syllable. “Oxford has a riding club, I’ve heard it’s excellent.”
Nie Xueping smiled. “They’re all about the same.”
Liao Tiandong sighed, “President Song must be your junior, then?”
“We were likely in different departments,” Nie Xueping glanced at Song Yuzhang. “Same school—more or less.”
Song Yuzhang laughed and said, “It counts.” He reached out and pinched Nie Xueping’s arm. Nie Xueping’s shirt was clinging slightly to his skin—he’d clearly been sweating. “I’ll have to rely on Senior Brother’s guidance in the future.”
The three of them chatted a while longer. Liao Tiandong asked Song Yuzhang if he wanted to ride, but he declined. “I came the earliest—already tired. Director Liao, Mr. Nie, you two chat a bit more. I’ll go change clothes.”
As Song Yuzhang walked toward the changing room, he couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle to himself.
He hadn’t expected that one day, men would fight over him out of jealousy.
The feeling... was truly a bit strange.
Not that he found it particularly glorious—just unfamiliar, like he had somehow become a beautiful woman.
It was a bit absurd.
In the past, whenever his lovers got jealous, it was always directed at him—complaining that he shouldn’t be eyeing those “fox spirits.” But these two—now they were amusing. Instead of blaming him, they competed with each other.
Especially Nie Xueping. He could understand it from Meng Tingjing—his personality was just like that—but Nie Xueping really caught him off guard.
As Song Yuzhang walked, he kept laughing, feeling like this whole situation was oddly entertaining. Like a fresh little delight—as long as no one took it out on him, all was well.
When he came out after changing, Nie Xueping had also exited from another changing room. Song Yuzhang smiled at him. “Mr. Nie, dashing as ever.”
Nie Xueping had changed back into his tailored suit, and returned a slight smile. “Shouldn’t it be ‘still vigorous despite age’?”
Song Yuzhang couldn’t help bursting into laughter. After he finished, he caught the hint in Nie Xueping’s expression and grinned teasingly, “Tingjing said that, didn’t he?”
Nie Xueping replied, “Mr. Meng has quite the playful way with words.”
With one hand in his pocket, Song Yuzhang couldn't hold back his laughter. His shoulders even trembled from it. Nie Xueping stood with his hands behind his back, calmly watching him. When he saw that Song Yuzhang just wouldn’t stop laughing, he stepped forward, wrapped an arm around his waist, and pushed him into the changing room, shutting the door behind them. Nie Xueping stroked Song Yuzhang’s flushed cheek, which was warm from laughing. In a low voice, he asked, “Find it that funny?”
Song Yuzhang couldn’t suppress his amusement and gave a little hum of acknowledgment. After chuckling a few more times, he looked up, eyes gleaming with mischief. “To have two pillars of Haizhou fighting over me—I feel so honored.”
Nie Xueping leaned in and kissed him. Song Yuzhang was still chuckling, the vibrations in his chest rippling into Nie Xueping. Caught in the moment, Nie Xueping started laughing too. He kissed with a smile—such a kiss tasted altogether different. They kissed for a while, until their laughter faded and the mood deepened. Their kisses grew serious—wet, lingering, full of desire. Their lips touched and parted gently. Song Yuzhang stroked the back of Nie Xueping’s neck and murmured, “Mr. Nie, I’m starting to think you really are quite fond of me.”
Nie Xueping smiled. “Took you long enough to notice.”
Song Yuzhang parted his lips and gave Nie Xueping a deep, passionate kiss.
Nie Xueping was usually calm and composed, though he had moments of wild bravery, like when taming a fierce horse. He seemed to have many sides—gentle like jade, cold like snow, sharp like a sword. To Song Yuzhang, he was like a kaleidoscope—turn it once, and you’d find a new surprise.
Suddenly, Song Yuzhang jumped up and wrapped his legs around Nie Xueping’s waist. Nie Xueping caught him with both arms. He was solid and weighty—a beautiful man dropped straight from the heavens into his arms.
They didn’t linger in the changing room for too long. Together, they got into the car, and Song Yuzhang agreed to visit the Nie residence.
Nie Bonian was overjoyed at Song Yuzhang’s arrival—so delighted he was practically bouncing. Nie Qingyun, standing nearby, kept stealing glances at Song Yuzhang, unable to stop herself from peeking a few more times.
Song Yuzhang didn’t mind Nie Qingyun’s gaze. After all, she had witnessed the dramatic scene with Song Mingzhao—if she hadn’t looked at him strangely, that would’ve been more unusual.
He played two rounds of chess with Nie Bonian, then dined with the three members of the Nie family. After dinner, he and Nie Xueping went to the study to discuss business.
“At dinner, Sister Qingyun kept looking at me,” said Song Yuzhang.
“She’s just curious. It'll pass in a few days. She won’t go around spreading it.”
“I don’t mind,” Song Yuzhang said as he sat in a bamboo chair by the window.
Nie Xueping put on a monocle and turned back with a gentle smile. “Still, it’s not ideal.”
Song Yuzhang smiled without replying. “That monocle suits you.”
Nie Xueping picked up a few papers. “I’m nearsighted in one eye—can’t be helped.”
The documents he picked up were drafts of the railway layout, with Haizhou at the center. They were just sketches—rough, early plans of a few sections.
Song Yuzhang examined them carefully. He pointed at a spot Nie Xueping had marked. “What’s the circle here mean?”
“I want to start construction on that segment.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Safety.”
***
Above them, stars scattered across the sky. A waning moon hung overhead, casting a cold light onto a desolate stretch of wilderness where a group of men was surrounded. They were ruthless bandits—but now, they were desperate, trapped. Their crude blades, rifles, and axes clattered to the ground. The gang leader shouted, “We surrender! We surrender! We’ll hand over all our guns and ammo—just spare our lives, good sir—!”
From the encircling troops, a tall figure stepped forward. The bandit chief recognized the man’s face and hurriedly pleaded, “Hero, please—!”
Bang—
Before the words were finished, his head burst open—mouth still agape, eyes frozen wide in terror. He collapsed instantly, a mix of blood and brain matter seeping across the dirt, reaching the feet of the other bandits. They turned deathly pale, trembling all over. True fear overtook them, and they dropped to their knees in unison, raising their empty hands high in complete surrender. All their bravado vanished.
Standing above them, eyes scanning coldly, Nie Yinbing lowered his gun. In the suffocating silence, he made a small forward gesture with two fingers to the soldiers behind him.
A sudden burst of gunfire.
The soldiers unleashed a swift and efficient slaughter. After a few volleys, the bandits—who had haunted the area for half a year—were riddled with bullets, wiped out entirely.
Nie Yinbing lit a cigarette and placed one foot on a small mound. Under the silver moonlight, his eyelashes cast faint shadows across his face. “Burn it all clean.”
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