Song Yuzhang: Chapter 96 - Gun
Chapter 96: Gun
Nie Yinbing had returned.
Song Yuzhang sat in the car, lightly tapping his toes, calculating the timing of Nie Yinbing’s departure from the city.
It had been just a little earlier than when he first approached Nie Xueping.
And it seemed Nie Xueping’s sketches weren’t casually drawn either—clearly the result of careful consideration. Only after confirming the route did he send his brother ahead to clear out the bandits along the way.
Which meant that Nie Xueping had been planning the railway from the start.
So when Song Yuzhang proposed building the railway, what was Nie Xueping thinking? Was he simply going with the flow? Did it suit his intentions perfectly? Or was there an unspoken mutual understanding?
Hard to say. No one could know for sure.
In any case, one thing was certain—Nie Xueping had long since planned to be involved in building the railway. He simply hadn’t revealed his hand.
If Song hadn’t joined in, Nie Xueping might have feigned cooperation with Meng Tingjing at first, only to secretly join forces with Liao Tiandong later to launch a rival railway project. Meng Tingjing said he had promised the position of Chamber of Commerce chairman—that wasn’t just an empty title. The chairman held real authority over commercial regulations in Haizhou, and with that power, he could easily target the Meng family’s port…
At this point, Song Yuzhang stopped his thoughts.
“What if…”—there was no point in dwelling on hypotheticals.
The reality was that the Nie, Meng, and Song families were now all bound to this railway project.
Truth be told, Song Yuzhang didn’t object to Meng Tingjing’s involvement.
The more people involved, the more entangled the relationships became, and the harder it was to maintain balance—which only benefited someone like him, playing the opportunist.
Would Meng Tingjing have been so obedient if it weren’t for Nie Xueping?
Conversely, with Meng Tingjing in the mix, even if Song and Nie ended up on bad terms one day over Nie Yinbing or some other matter, he wouldn’t have to worry about falling completely out with Nie Xueping.
The delicate balance needed to be carefully maintained. Used well, it would allow him to survive in a clash of titans—and seize the benefits he wanted.
When Song Yuzhang returned to the Song residence, he was greeted by Song Qiyuan, half-asleep and hugging a quilt on the living room couch, yawning nonstop.
“Third Brother, why are you sleeping here?”
Song Qiyuan rubbed his face and waved a hand hoarsely. “Water.”
He’d spent the entire night trading stocks, making nonstop calls, dizzy and famished. After chugging down a glass of water, he muttered through the blanket, “Hungry.”
“You’re hungry, so why not ask the kitchen to cook something?”
“The head chef isn’t up yet.”
Song Yuzhang was about to say, “Then wake him up,” when he suddenly paused. Since when had he become so spoiled, so quick to boss others around?
“I’ll go find you something to eat.”
He waved his hand and went to the kitchen, returning with some bread and a can of tea.
Song Qiyuan drank the hot tea, eating the filled bread with a stuffy nose, mumbling, “Thanks.”
“No need to thank me,” said Song Yuzhang, sitting in a single chair with one leg crossed, lighting a cigarette. “You didn’t sleep at all?”
“No.”
“Third Brother, I really do hope you take things seriously, but you don’t have to push yourself this hard. Your health matters too.”
“If I don’t push myself, won’t I let you down?” Song Qiyuan muttered as he ate, tugging the blanket closer. “Didn’t you spend the whole night discussing business, too?”
Song Yuzhang exhaled a stream of smoke. “Not as noble as you think.”
Sure, there were meetings—but he’d spent the rest of the night indulging in pleasure.
Song Qiyuan ate three rolls in a row, drank hot tea, then shivered all over with satisfaction. Watching him, Song Yuzhang grinned, tossed away his cigarette, and said, “Third Brother, come give me a hug!”
Song Qiyuan grumbled, “Get lost.” But his blanket-covered arms opened wide like a giant bird spreading its wings. Song Yuzhang dove into his embrace, gazing up at his pale chin from below with a lazy drawl, “When I first came back, I thought you were the most handsome in the family—just my type.”
Song Qiyuan burst out laughing. He lowered his head and said, “What, you into me now?”
Lying there seriously, Song Yuzhang nodded. “Yes.”
Song Qiyuan looked a bit stunned. “Really?”
“Really,” said Song Yuzhang, reaching up tenderly toward Song Qiyuan’s cheek. “I’ve never seen a pretty boy pull off a perm as well as you do.”
“Scram—”
With one knee, Song Qiyuan shoved Song Yuzhang right out of his blanket.
Song Yuzhang flopped upside down onto the couch, legs dangling over the backrest, laughing for a while before saying, “I’ve changed.”
“Changed?” Song Qiyuan, still wrapped in his quilt, leaned over. Song Yuzhang’s head hung down, hair falling toward the floor, revealing his whole forehead.
“People change. I’ve changed too,” said Qiyuan.
Song Yuzhang was quiet for a long time, then slowly sighed. With a flex of his waist and abdomen, he sat upright again. “Let’s go. To the bank.”
“What are you, even human?” groaned Song Qiyuan. “I haven’t slept all night, and you want me to go to the bank? I’m going upstairs to sleep.”
Wrapped in his quilt, Song Qiyuan stood up and shuffled along in his slippers, muttering as he walked, “Yeah, you’ve definitely changed. Less and less like a human being.”
Song Yuzhang flopped back down again, closing his eyes with a faint crease in his brow.
All those thoughts from the morning still lingered in his mind.
Money and emotions—he used to keep them very separate.
His judgment about relationships had always been simple: either he liked someone or he didn’t. If he liked them, he’d spend time with them; if not, he’d just pat himself off and walk away.
But now he was thinking about how to use people’s emotions—how to place profit above feelings. That was undoubtedly more rational, but also colder.
What did that make him? Grown up? He couldn’t even tell if it was a good or bad thing…
After turning it over in his mind for a long while, Song Yuzhang still couldn’t decide whether the change in him was for better or worse. So be it. He was only twenty—there was no need to rush into pruning his own branches. Let them grow wildly and freely for now.
He first went to the bank. Finding everything in order, he brought Liu Chu with him to go see Shen Chengduo.
Liu Chu wasn’t happy about it. After all, Shen Chengduo’s men had captured him and beaten him several times. He still bore a grudge. When he heard that Song Yuzhang was taking him to see Shen Chengduo, his big eyes immediately flashed with hatred.
Song Yuzhang placed a palm over his lashes. “You can hate anyone you want, but don’t let it show. If your enemy senses your hatred, they’ll guard against you, and then your hatred will be wasted.”
Liu Chu’s lashes trembled under his hand. When Song Yuzhang removed his palm, the anger in Liu Chu’s eyes had already faded considerably. Pleased, Song Yuzhang gave his head a light pat.
In the car, Song Yuzhang told him, “Your age is just right for me—not too young, not too old. You’re smart too, perfect for becoming one of my trusted men. I want to cultivate you. Liu Chuanzong used to fill that role, but he ended up turning against his master. I don’t want that with you. I won’t force you to sell your life to me. If there’s something you want, just tell me. We’ll talk it through. If we can come to an agreement, you’ll become my confidant. If not, that’s fine too.”
Liu Chu lowered his head in silence, clearly deep in thought. After a while, he looked up and said seriously, “I’m willing to be your confidant—but not for life.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want to be you someday.”
“Be me?”
“Yeah. A big boss,” Liu Chu said plainly, laying out his childish ambition. “And then I’ll find a smart kid like me to be my right hand and work for me.”
Song Yuzhang burst out laughing and gave his spiky little head another pat, affirming warmly, “You’ve got it.”
In Liu Chu’s eyes, Song Yuzhang was a rare kind of big boss—good-looking and reasonable. He decided to be a little nicer to Song Yuzhang from now on, and stop secretly cursing that he’d have kids born without an ass.
But Liu Chu was still just a child. When Shen Chengduo walked over grinning and tried to touch his face, he recoiled with a look of disgust, jumping back a full step.
“Brother Song, you’ve really raised him well,” Shen Chengduo laughed. “He was just a scrappy mutt, and now he even looks like a young master after getting cleaned up.”
Song Yuzhang gave a slight smile. “Liu Chu was never ugly to begin with.”
“Liu Chu? Even his name sounds nice.”
Shen Chengduo was a little envious. He gave Song Yuzhang’s shoulder a hearty slap. “You gotta give me a nickname too—something nice!”
Song Yuzhang had brought Liu Chu here to buy guns.
Shen Chengduo refused to sell—he insisted on giving them as a gift.
Song Yuzhang smiled and accepted the gesture, knowing Shen Chengduo had latched tightly onto the Song family now and would only try to please him.
The guns came in many styles, displayed in boxes side by side, dazzling to look at. Song Yuzhang casually picked a lightweight one, then gestured for Liu Chu to choose one too.
“Me?”
“Go ahead.” Song Yuzhang jerked his chin toward the gun boxes.
Liu Chu immediately pounced.
He had a natural fascination with this deadly weapon, an instinctive reverence for power. He lovingly ran his hands over the cold black barrel, imagining himself sweeping down the enemies who had bullied and belittled him—bam, bam, bam—watching them fall like grass, blood soaking his shoes…
A shiver of excitement ran through Liu Chu. He could hardly wait to carry out a wild, cathartic slaughter.
“You’re giving a gun to a kid?”
Shen Chengduo asked, lounging with Song Yuzhang on a sofa, cigar in hand.
“He’s not that young. He’s ten,” said Song Yuzhang, who wasn’t smoking—he’d had a few earlier and his throat was still sore. He toyed with a lighter in his hand. “A ten-year-old deserves a proper birthday gift.”
Shen Chengduo shook his head. “A kid with a gun? Watch out he doesn’t shoot himself.”
Song Yuzhang called out, “Liu Chu, did you hear that? Don’t misfire.”
Liu Chu shouted back in his rough voice, even louder: “I won’t misfire! If I do, I’ll cut off my own balls—!”
Song Yuzhang turned to Shen Chengduo with a faint smile. Shen Chengduo puffed on his cigar and shook his head. “Alright, alright, anyone who swears on his own balls—I gotta hand it to him.”
As they were joking, one of Shen Chengduo’s men leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Shen Chengduo immediately said, “Brother Song, excuse me for a moment.”
Liu Chu took his time choosing. At last, he picked a compact, pocket-sized Snake-brand pistol—completely enamored.
“Like this one?”
Liu Chu shook his head. “It’s not that I like it. It just fits best in my hand. When I grow up a bit more and get stronger, I’ll be able to switch to a better gun.”
Song Yuzhang said, “By then, you might have to rely on your own skills to earn a better one.”
Liu Chu agreed without hesitation, “Alright.”
Song Yuzhang asked him if he knew how to shoot. Liu Chu said he had seen people shoot but had never tried it himself. Song Yuzhang beckoned to one of Shen Chengduo’s men and had him take Liu Chu to the yard to teach him how to use a gun.
As for buying a gun, Song Yuzhang admitted it was the thought of Nie Yinbing’s name last night in bed that reminded him.
Being held at gunpoint—especially by someone like Nie Yinbing—was far from a pleasant experience. It was probably the closest Song Yuzhang had ever come to death.
A stray bullet had killed Xiao Yingtao. He was afraid of guns, too.
He didn’t like them, but he figured it was best to have one on hand just in case.
Nie Yinbing was very displeased—but not surprised—at Shen Chengduo’s incompetence.
So many people still hadn’t found him, and Shen Chengduo only had two eyes, two arms, and two legs—he wasn’t some three-headed six-armed god. It made sense that he hadn’t been able to track the man down.
Shen Chengduo said, “Second Master Nie, forgive me for speaking out of turn, but you said the man’s name was Zhao Jianfang. Couldn’t that name be fake?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Nie Yinbing walked a few steps, then suddenly stopped. He looked at Shen Chengduo with solemn intensity. “Jianfang might be a coward and a gambler, but he’s not a total liar.”
At that, Shen Chengduo straightened up as well, marveling at how the Nie family could raise such a pure-hearted second master. It was truly remarkable.
As the two of them left the guest hall, Nie Yinbing heard gunshots and instinctively glanced sharply over his shoulder.
Shen Chengduo was startled by the killing intent in his eyes and quickly said, “Fifth Young Master Song came over to play with guns. It’s nothing.”
Fifth Young Master Song… him again!
Nie Yinbing turned his face away in distaste. He was about to walk off but suddenly froze in place.
That kind of filthy person—Nie Bonian was just a kid, so it was understandable if he had naively gotten close a few times. But Nie Xueping was a grown man! With so many men and women in Haizhou, why that one?
Nie Yinbing felt his elder brother had always been dignified and composed, rarely making mistakes. So clearly, the problem lay with this Fifth Young Master Song—seducing and corrupting both father and son.
The thought made Nie Yinbing feel a surge of murderous intent, though it didn’t show on his face. “I’m going to take a look.”
Nie Yinbing always carried guns with him—three, to be exact. One on each hip, and a compact pistol hidden in his sleeve.
The yard was behind and to the right of the guest hall. As he stepped into it, the first thing he saw was several of the Shen family guards. When they saw the two approaching, they stepped aside instinctively, revealing a tall, upright figure with a child beside him, who was firing at a stack of sandbags ahead.
Nie Yinbing found the figure strangely familiar—so familiar it felt abnormal. Though uncertain, he still let the gun from his sleeve slide into his palm.
Shen Chengduo had been about to happily introduce the two, but when he saw Nie Yinbing raise the gun, he panicked and cried out, “Second Master!”
Hearing the shout, both people in the yard turned around.
Liu Chu turned his head, and seeing a strange man pointing a gun at Song Yuzhang, he instinctively raised his own and shouted, “What are you doing?!”
Shen Chengduo froze for a second, then quickly rushed to press down Nie Yinbing’s arm. “Second Master Nie—please, let’s talk this through!”
Nie Yinbing stared blankly at that familiar face from his memory, eyes tracing every inch—from brow to eye, from nose to lips—deeply imprinting it again in his heart. In that moment, he didn’t know whether to feel joy or sorrow, pain or hatred.
He was dazed, and filled with a strange emotion. All those swirling feelings converged into a single thought, as if in a dream: “Why is he so thin?”
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