Song Yuzhang: Chapter 99 - Conversation
Chapter 99: Conversation
It was late at night when Nie Xueping returned to the residence. Nie Mao came to greet him and said that Nie Yinbing was waiting in the study. Nie Xueping gave a slight nod. “Tell the kitchen to prepare a light supper.”
“Yes, Master. What would you like to eat?”
“Something simple.”
Nie Yinbing was one of the few people in the Nie family who could freely enter and exit Nie Xueping’s study, though he rarely did. He seldom stayed home, and there was a constant sense of his absence throughout the house.
He was already seated in a red chair in the study when Nie Xueping entered. Pointing to the wall, he said, “The painting by Lin Mengqi is gone.”
Nie Xueping glanced over and replied, “Yes, I gave it to someone.”
Nie Yinbing was silent for a while, then suddenly said, “Song Yuzhang?”
Nie Xueping sat down at an angle from him and didn’t deny it. “Yes.”
Another long silence from Nie Yinbing. He wasn’t good with words, and he knew it. Even when he thought carefully before speaking, what came out often sounded harsh or inappropriate.
At home, he only spoke more freely with Nie Xueping, because his older brother could understand his true intent. He didn’t have to worry about being misunderstood or upsetting him with a poorly phrased sentence.
He had always been quiet for so long that others assumed he simply disliked conversation.
And that wasn’t wrong—he did dislike talking to most people. It was pointless.
But Zhao Jianfang was different. Nie Yinbing liked talking to him, liked being around him. Zhao Jianfang was witty and loved to joke, slapping his thigh, a cigarette between his lips, cursing with wild insults Nie Yinbing had never heard, drinking Western liquor with abandon, and whistling at racetracks. Whether taken separately or together, all of it Nie Yinbing loved.
“You like him?” Nie Yinbing asked abruptly.
Nie Xueping, visibly fatigued, nodded calmly. “Yes.”
“How much do you like him?”
“If he were a woman, you’d probably have a new sister-in-law in two years.”
Nie Yinbing stared at Nie Xueping, knowing his brother meant every word. Nie Xueping seldom joked, especially not about such things.
“Yinbing,” Nie Xueping said evenly, “I know you don’t really like him, but for my sake, I hope you won’t be too hostile toward him.”
Nie Yinbing gazed at him for a long time, then suddenly stood up. He turned his back to Nie Xueping, looking out into the deep black night. His voice was low and heavy. “Why? You’ve never been with a man before.”
Nie Xueping laced his fingers and gazed at a nearby glass lamp. He let out a long, silent sigh, lightly rubbed his temple, and after a moment of pursed-lip silence, relaxed again and said, “Yinbing, I’m just an ordinary person. I have the same emotions and desires as anyone else. Maybe you won’t believe it, but I must be honest with you: what I feel for him is love.”
“I heard you had some conflict with him at the Shen residence today?” Nie Xueping added.
“They told you.”
“I don’t mean to keep tabs on you. But something like that—of course they had to report it. Regardless of his relationship with me, your behavior was inappropriate.”
There was a slight edge in Nie Xueping’s tone. Listening to it, it felt to Nie Yinbing like moonlight had pierced his heart—bright but cold. So his brother truly loved Zhao Jianfang. This wasn’t a passing interest or faint affection. It was real, deep love.
Nie Xueping looked at his brother’s tall silhouette and, after a long moment, sighed again. He spoke gently, “Let me formally introduce you to him sometime. Once you get to know him, you’ll see he’s not the person you imagine. I think you’ll like him too.”
Nie Yinbing turned and left without another word. As he exited, he nearly ran into Nie Mao, who was carrying the supper tray in. Nie Mao fumbled to steady the tray and watched in shock as Nie Yinbing stormed off. He turned back toward the room to see Nie Xueping sitting upright, his expression grave as he looked toward the door.
“Master, what’s wrong with Second Master? Should I go after him and check?”
“It’s fine,” Nie Xueping said, withdrawing his gaze and sighing again. He waved his hand, and Nie Mao came in to place the supper down. Nie Xueping glanced at it. “This is something Yinbing likes. Bring him a bowl too.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nie Mao quickly left.
Nie Xueping rested one hand on his forehead, clearly weary.
If Song Yuzhang were a woman, perhaps things would be simpler. But he wasn’t—he was a man.
Nie Xueping had always thought the hardest hurdle would be Nie Bonian.
If Nie Bonian were to find out that his beloved “Brother Yuzhang” had suddenly become his father’s lover, he likely wouldn’t be able to handle it. The boy had lost his mother young, and that role could never be replaced. Though Nie Xueping had no intention of turning Song Yuzhang into a “stepmother,” if the matter ever became public, it was unavoidable.
There were many things Nie Xueping couldn’t give Song Yuzhang, so he had never demanded much in return.
In life, nothing is perfect.
Some things come by chance. If you’re lucky enough to find them, treasure them.
Still, Nie Yinbing’s intense opposition had caught Nie Xueping off guard.
The Nie family hadn’t entered the Shen residence, only waited outside in the car. They hadn’t seen what happened. The Shen family had been discreet, but it was clear there had been conflict. The two had even gone to eat together afterward, and then Nie Yinbing had left in anger…
Nie Xueping sighed deeply again, took a few bites of supper, and then heard Nie Mao return in a rush. “Second Master took off on horseback.”
“He ran off?”
Nie Xueping set down his spoon. He started to stand but sat back down again. “Let him go,” he said.
He had already made his stance perfectly clear. With Nie Yinbing’s personality, he would need to blow off some steam. Nie Xueping took another sip of soup and added, “Tomorrow morning, send a formal invitation to Boss Meng. Say I’m hosting and would like him and Director Liao to join me for lunch.”
“Yes, sir.”
Just as Nie Mao was about to leave, Nie Xueping called him back. “Send an invitation to Bank President Song as well. Invite him too.”
“Alright, understood.”
Song Mingzhao wasn’t receiving the same treatment as before. After bathing, he lay in Song Yuzhang’s bed waiting for him. When Song Yuzhang came in, he didn’t acknowledge him at first. He took off his coat, put his gun back into the desk drawer, then turned and smiled warmly. “Fourth Brother, while you were gone, the servants kept your room clean. The bedding was freshly sunned just two days ago.”
Song Mingzhao understood what he meant and quickly stammered, flustered, “I—I’ll go back to my own room to sleep. I just… wanted to talk a bit, is that okay? It’s been so long since we talked.”
Song Yuzhang didn’t object and went straight into the bathroom.
Song Mingzhao sat on the soft bed; the covers were still cold. He had gotten in early to warm the bed for Song Yuzhang. It was cold out—Song Yuzhang would appreciate a warm bed.
But he only liked warm beds, not the person warming them.
No, that wasn’t fair to Song Yuzhang. He did like him—as a pitiful, useless younger brother. He gave him a little affection out of his broad-minded generosity. It was his fault for being shameless and ungrateful—for wanting too much. It was all his fault.
When Song Yuzhang came out of the bathroom, steam still clinging to him, he slipped into bed with a sigh. “The weather’s really getting cold.”
“Yeah, it’s been freezing lately. A few days ago…” Song Mingzhao wanted to mention how he’d caught a fever from the cold, but thought better of it. Wasn’t he already pathetic enough in front of Song Yuzhang? No point trying to gain pity. “…A few days ago, it started getting chilly.”
Song Yuzhang smiled. “Tomorrow I’ll have the staff light the water heaters. I’ll remind Third Brother too—we don’t want you catching cold.”
He had changed. No matter what, things had changed. Song Mingzhao tried so hard to restore their closeness, but it was useless. Even his words had to be carefully chosen—what closeness was left to salvage? And still he had to pretend, to hold on, like day-old leftovers: half spoiled, looking fine on the surface, but the smell was there, and if you ate it, you’d get sick.
Lying in bed was like a punishment. He’d brought it on himself, endured it until Song Yuzhang told him to go back to his own room. As he got up and lifted the covers, he suddenly asked, “Where’s my book?”
“Which one?”
“Madame Bovary.”
“I don’t know. Maybe one of the servants put it away. Try the bookshelf over there.”
A chill settled in Song Mingzhao’s heart. He forced a smile. “Oh, it’s fine. I’d nearly finished it anyway. I’ll go to sleep.”
Song Yuzhang could tell he was upset, but he didn’t feel inclined to comfort him. He was busy reflecting on himself—wondering if perhaps he had become a bit too likable. These days, he no longer craved love the way he used to. His mind was full of banks, railroads, and American stocks. There just wasn’t any space left to think about love.
Song Mingzhao returned to his room. Just as Song Yuzhang said, it was clean, and the bedding had been sunned. He was a healthy young man, and the bed quickly warmed around him. But he still felt terrible inside—so terrible he wanted to cry. So he did cry. No one cared anymore anyway. What did he have left? A teaching assistant position, rooms kept for him by two brothers—and nothing else. He was still that Fourth Brother no one really respected.
“It’s not their fault. It’s mine… I’m just useless…”
He mumbled to himself.
Curling up under the blanket, he buried his face in the covers, breathing in the faint scent of sunlight, waiting for morning to come.
At eight the next morning, Nie Mao came to report that Nie Yinbing had returned.
“Good,” Nie Xueping said. “As long as he’s back.”
Before leaving the house, he asked how Nie Yinbing was doing. Hearing that he had gone to sleep, he was slightly relieved. “When he wakes, have the doctor check his back again.”
Nie Xueping booked an entire floor of the International Hotel for the luncheon.
Song Yuzhang arrived first. Not long after, Meng Tingjing arrived as well, still in mourning—dressed in his black robe. He looked even calmer than last time, as though he had finally recovered fully. Without any hesitation, he sat directly to Song Yuzhang’s right.
Song Yuzhang looked at him. Meng Tingjing looked back with a neutral expression.
“President Song, how have you been?”
Surprisingly, his tone was calm too.
Song Yuzhang was caught off guard, though his face betrayed nothing. “Thanks for asking. I’ve been well. And you, Mr. Meng?”
Meng Tingjing replied, “There was a mechanical problem at the cotton mill. I’ve been staying up for several nights.”
“Is it fixed?”
“It was repaired yesterday.”
“That’s good.”
The two of them fell into silence. Song Yuzhang couldn’t even remember the last time they had sat together like this, free of hostility. It felt almost unnatural. From the corner of his eye, he glanced over—only to see Meng Tingjing also looking at him. Their gazes met. Song Yuzhang was momentarily taken aback, but Meng Tingjing spoke first. “You were peeking at me.”
Song Yuzhang had never in his life been accused in such a way—and Meng Tingjing’s tone was sharp and unwavering, completely justified, as if he were a stunning beauty being leered at by some creep.
Song Yuzhang wanted to laugh, so he did—lightly mocking. “Yes, I was looking at you. So? What, are you going to charge me for it, Boss Meng?”
Meng Tingjing turned his face away, staring straight at the entrance. “Well, we have slept together before. I’ll let it go.”
Song Yuzhang was both amused and exasperated. He propped his face on one hand, slanted his gaze toward Meng Tingjing. “What’s with the sudden change of heart?”
Meng Tingjing didn’t look his way. “I’m still young—never settled. So how can there be talk of changing?”
At first, Song Yuzhang didn’t catch the implication. He tapped his pinky at the corner of his lips—and then suddenly remembered the phrase “old but vigorous.” His eyes slid toward Meng Tingjing. With his fair, refined features and cool, noble temperament, he looked like an orchid blooming in a secluded valley—so long as he wasn’t angry or vicious.
After enduring his stare for a few seconds, Meng Tingjing couldn’t take it anymore. He turned, locking eyes with Song Yuzhang. “What does Nie Xueping have that I don’t? Why did you choose him over me?”
Song Yuzhang paused, his smile fading. “Tingjing, don’t you feel a little guilty saying that? If you hadn’t kept pushing me…”
His voice trailed off under Meng Tingjing’s intense gaze. Meng Tingjing said, “Why don’t you finish? If I hadn’t pushed, what then? Your feelings for Nie Xueping are just—”
“Boss Meng! President Song!”
Liao Tiandong burst into the private room like a firecracker of joy.
Meng Tingjing straightened up, turning his face outward. Song Yuzhang also sat up, though his body still angled slightly toward Meng Tingjing. Liao Tiandong showed zero guilt about interrupting—they couldn’t possibly have anything good to say to each other. If left alone, they’d surely start arguing. His arrival was saving the day.
Liao Tiandong, ever the self-starter, grabbed a chair and wedged himself forcefully into the space between Song Yuzhang and Meng Tingjing. “Come, come, let’s all sit together.”
Song Yuzhang scooted over, chair and all, and made space. Liao Tiandong successfully inserted himself, then glanced at Song Yuzhang—his expression was amused, almost smiling. Then he looked to Meng Tingjing—whose face was ice-cold. Liao Tiandong shivered under his gaze, folded his hands on his chest, and looked innocently ahead, thinking to himself: I’m really doing the hard labor here. But someone’s got to keep this little group from collapsing. I’ve gotten my share of perks—it’s my turn to give back!
Nie Xueping arrived late, offering immediate apologies. “There was a minor accident at the mine—truly sorry. As the host, I ended up being the last to arrive.”
Liao Tiandong rushed to smooth things over. “Ah, no worries. We’re all busy people, it’s totally understandable, right, President Song? Boss Meng?”
Song Yuzhang gave a polite nod. Meng Tingjing didn’t respond. So Liao Tiandong silently concluded: Yeah, figures. Meng Tingjing must’ve been the one causing trouble before I got here.
This gathering, organized by Nie Xueping, had two purposes. One was to finalize the construction site of the railway’s first segment. They had discussed it before, and this meeting was meant to confirm it—but that alone wasn’t enough reason to bring the three of them together.
The real reason was the second matter—which had nothing to do with Song Yuzhang. But Nie Xueping feared that if he only invited Liao Tiandong and Meng Tingjing, Song Yuzhang might read too much into it. So he bundled the two purposes into one gathering.
“To be honest, this matter is more of a family issue.”
Nie Xueping began, resting his hands loosely on one raised thigh. A rare expression of guilt passed over his face. “Some time ago, my younger brother befriended someone he was very fond of—but that friend disappeared, and we haven’t been able to find him since. Now with war spreading and unrest everywhere… Director Liao, you’re in the government. I’d like to ask, would it be possible to leverage some official channels? I know this is a shameful request, but my brother… he truly cares deeply about that person.”
“Oh, come now,” Liao Tiandong replied cheerfully, “Of course. No problem at all. I’ll definitely help.”
Nie Xueping turned to Meng Tingjing. “Boss Meng, you’ve got ears at the docks. I’ll need your help as well.”
Meng Tingjing gave no clear reply.
Finally, Nie Xueping looked to Song Yuzhang, who sat beside him, head lowered as if lost in thought.
Nie Xueping turned his face back and said to Liao Tiandong and Meng Tingjing, “I’ve already sent someone to Jiangzhou to bring back a few people who had seen that friend before. They’re traveling by boat and should arrive the day after tomorrow. When the time comes, I’ll be relying on both of you.”
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