Song Yuzhang: Chapter 107 - Cause of Death
Chapter 107: Cause of Death
The Meng residence was tightly surrounded, not even a drop could leak out.
When the main gates opened and Meng Tingjing stepped outside, all he saw was a sea of firelight.
The Nie family's guards, torches held high as they sat on horseback, stood in front of the Meng residence with a grim and murderous air. At a glance, the house seemed engulfed in flames.
Nie Yinbing sat on horseback, looking down at Meng Tingjing. He said coldly, “Where is Song Yuzhang?”
Meng Tingjing clasped his hands behind his back and smiled calmly. “This is the Meng residence. You’ve come here to demand someone from us — did you perhaps come to the wrong place?”
“The people at the hospital said you took him,” Nie Yinbing replied. “Hand him over.”
“Then go ask whoever told you that. I don’t have your person here.”
Nie Yinbing was silent for a moment. He lowered his gaze and then, without a word, drew a gun from his waist.
As soon as he drew his gun, dozens of attendants poured out from the pitch-black doorway behind Meng Tingjing like a breached dam. Each of them also raised a gun. The Nie family guards responded immediately, all drawing their weapons as well.
Both sides stood at a deadly impasse, guns drawn, the atmosphere cold and tense to the extreme.
The Nie family guards all knew their Second Master Nie — though born into privilege — was nothing short of a true desperado. He never pulled a gun just for threats. So, they too braced themselves with a wolf-like readiness to die. Meanwhile, Meng Tingjing's attendants were all trained deathsworn — many had crawled back from the brink of death — utterly fearless.
Meng Tingjing had expected this and remained unshaken. A life is a life, and not fearing death is one thing, but actually staking it all is another. Right now, the Nie family needed Nie Yinbing to maintain control. He didn’t believe Nie Yinbing could afford to entangle himself here for long.
Then he saw Nie Yinbing’s gaze flicker ever so slightly — it landed on something behind him. Meng Tingjing’s heart jumped; he immediately turned to look.
Song Yuzhang stood there in only a thin robe, likely one of Meng Tingjing’s old garments — snow-white, soft, and faintly scented with soap. He trembled in the early winter wind. His face was as pale as death, like bleached porcelain. One of his arms hung limp, while the other gently cradled his shoulder. His hand was soaked in blood, staining his sleeve with vivid blotches of red.
“Song Yuzhang!”
Meng Tingjing rushed forward in fury and caught him in his arms. Then he noticed — Song Yuzhang wasn’t even wearing shoes. His bare feet peeked out from under the robe, toes reddened from the cold.
“You idiot, what are you doing out here?!”
Meng Tingjing lifted him entirely into his arms, pressing his lips to his ear and whispering, “Do you have a death wish?!” As he spoke, he took half a step back. Meng family attendants immediately stepped forward to shield them.
Nie Yinbing dismounted and stepped forward steadily in his riding boots, pushing through the crowd. Across the sea of people, he locked eyes with the pale and weak Song Yuzhang in Meng Tingjing’s arms.
Their gazes were both calm. Nie Yinbing said, “Come with me.”
Song Yuzhang answered, “Alright.”
Meng Tingjing’s eyes snapped toward Song Yuzhang, blazing with disbelief and fury. Song Yuzhang looked back at him, his voice gentle and hazy. “Tingjing, I know you meant well. Thank you. But I have to go see him…”
Meng Tingjing stared at him. “You have to go?”
“I have to.”
“You won’t regret it?”
“I won’t.”
Meng Tingjing's hands tightened their grip, but under Song Yuzhang’s wan, fragile expression, he slowly let go. He turned to Nie Yinbing. “He’s injured.”
Nie Yinbing glanced at Song Yuzhang, then deftly undid the buttons on his coat, shrugged it off, and passed it through the crowd. He draped it over Song Yuzhang’s body and reached out to take him from Meng Tingjing’s arms.
Meng Tingjing did not resist — he simply watched silently as Nie Yinbing wrapped Song Yuzhang up and helped him onto the horse. Song Yuzhang’s face was almost the same color as the robe he wore — pale to the point of transparency — looking more vulnerable than ever within the folds of the dark coat.
Nie Yinbing left, and the Nie family forces departed with him. Meng Tingjing stood at the doorway for a long time before finally saying, “Prepare the carriage. We're going to the police station!”
Song Yuzhang was so cold he could hardly feel anything — only his cheeks remained feverishly hot. The winter wind whipped across his face, and his mind was in utter disarray.
The sedatives had dulled his spirit, making him lethargic and dazed. His thoughts were scattered like shards of glass — flickering, unstable. The clearest image was Nie Xueping’s eyes — in that final moment, those eyes had been so gentle, so sorrowful, and so full of unwavering determination…
Song Yuzhang felt pain.
He wasn’t sure where — his whole body ached. It was an indescribable pain, a deep, marrow-piercing agony.
Nie Yinbing dismounted and approached. Song Yuzhang sat stiffly on the horse until Nie Yinbing lifted him down and carried him inside with long, urgent strides. In Nie Yinbing’s arms, he swayed unsteadily just like he had on the horse. The wind of the hallway brushed his cheek, and he no longer knew whether he was hot or cold.
When the wind stopped, Song Yuzhang also stopped.
Nie Yinbing sat down, keeping Song Yuzhang on his lap, then used one hand to turn his face outward.
Then, Song Yuzhang saw Nie Xueping.
He had never seen Nie Xueping look so disheveled.
Dried blood had crusted over his suit, dyeing his shirt and tie a dark red-black. His skin was ghostly pale, lips devoid of color. Only his thick eyebrows remained dark, and the short lashes cast faint shadows on his face — he looked like a blood-soaked ink painting.
Song Yuzhang clutched the front of his shirt and, as if in unbearable pain, turned his face back into Nie Yinbing’s chest.
The air in Nie Yinbing’s embrace was utterly cold, exuding the chill of winter.
“How could Eldest Brother be dead?”
Song Yuzhang clung to his clothes, unable to speak, only tears fell uncontrollably, soaking into Nie Yinbing’s clothes.
Everything had happened too fast. He was still in a state of confusion. His memories were fragmented, and the only thing that kept flashing before his eyes was the moment Nie Xueping threw himself at him.
Song Yuzhang began to tremble. Nie Yinbing looked down at him, his gaze moving from his tear-streaked face to his blood-soaked shoulder. He reached out and twisted Song Yuzhang’s face, forcing him to look once more at Nie Xueping’s corpse. In his ear, he repeated, “How could Eldest Brother be dead?”
***
Song Mingzhao didn’t say a single word.
Whether it was facing the people from the police station, the suddenly-arrived Nie Qingyun, or the brothers who rushed in later, he remained utterly silent, his expression completely numb and unresponsive.
Murder—using a gun, no less—and the victim was Nie Xueping. The severity of the situation far exceeded what the police station could have imagined. For now, all they could do was detain him under immense pressure.
Inside the police station, Nie Qingyun didn’t say a word. She went straight up and slapped Song Yekang across the face.
Song Yekang was stunned, but didn’t know what to say. “Qingyun…”
Nie Qingyun didn’t even look at him and turned to Song Qiyuan, delivering another sharp slap.
Song Qiyuan tilted his head slightly but said nothing at all.
Nie Qingyun’s eyes were red and swollen from crying. Her voice was hoarse as she said, “I want Song Mingzhao buried with him.”
Song Qiyuan’s face stung with pain, and his heart was in complete turmoil.
He had borne the responsibility of looking after his younger brothers, guarding vigilantly against the troublemaking older ones—but never could he have imagined that it would be this seemingly well-behaved younger brother who would cause such a catastrophe!
Kill Nie Xueping! Song Qiyuan simply couldn’t understand why Song Mingzhao would kill Nie Xueping! He hadn’t even killed a chicken before—how could he, how would he dare?!
Song Qiyuan said, “The matter hasn’t been settled yet…”
He hadn’t even finished his sentence before another slap landed on his face from Nie Qingyun.
Nie Qingyun’s hand went numb from the force, and she enunciated each word coldly, “He must die.”
Song Yekang stepped forward, trying to shield Song Qiyuan slightly. “Qingyun, I know you’re heartbroken right now…”
“Shut up,” Nie Qingyun cut him off icily. “Your brother didn’t die—what do you know?”
Song Yekang’s eyes turned red too. “If Fourth Brother really did do it, then yes, a life for a life. If you want to vent on me, fine, but why drag Third Brother into it?!”
“Venting?” Nie Qingyun’s eyes welled up with tears again. “Your brother killed my brother, and now you’re talking to me about venting? Song Yekang, let me tell you—I wish every last one of the Song family would die with him!”
Song Yekang looked shocked, as if he were seeing Nie Qingyun for the first time, unable to believe that such ruthless words could come from her mouth.
Just as tensions flared to the breaking point, Meng Tingjing also arrived at the police station and went straight into the holding cell.
“Mister Meng, things are chaotic outside. I can only give you five minutes…”
Meng Tingjing nodded in understanding, knowing he would have to show gratitude later. “Time is short—thank you in advance.”
Once the officer left, Meng Tingjing said, “Song Mingzhao, stop crouching there playing dead—get over here!”
The crouched figure in the darkness made no response.
Meng Tingjing kicked the iron bars hard. The whole cell reverberated with a dull thud-thud, but Song Mingzhao still stayed curled in the dark corner, unmoving.
Meng Tingjing didn’t have time to coax him. He lowered his voice, speaking quickly and steadily: “Song Mingzhao, listen up—you’ve caused a huge mess. Nie Xueping is dead. The Nie family won’t spare you. Nie Qingyun is outside right now. Your brothers are out there trying to find a way to get you out. If you want to live, get over here!”
Still no response from Song Mingzhao. Meng Tingjing gave a cold laugh. “Very good. Looks like you already know there’s no way you’re getting out of this. Since you want to die, you might as well drag someone down with you. Killing Nie Xueping wasn’t enough—you’re taking Song Yuzhang with you. What kind of misfortune did he have to meet a brother like you? With him keeping you company on the road to the underworld, are you laughing in that corner right now?”
Song Mingzhao finally moved. He raised his head. His expression was unusually calm. He lowered his hands from his knees, stood up, and walked to the iron bars, staring directly at Meng Tingjing. “I wasn’t laughing.”
Meng Tingjing saw that his mental state seemed off, but there was no time to worry about that. He grabbed his collar through the bars and demanded, “Tell me—why did you fire the gun? Who were you aiming at?”
Song Mingzhao stared at him, eyes flickering slightly, then turning blank. He seemed lost in thought, like he was sleepwalking. Meng Tingjing lost his patience and jerked his collar hard again, shouting: “Listen carefully! No matter who asks you, you say it was Nie Xueping you were aiming at—do you understand?!”
***
“It was to save me.”
Tears flowed down like a torrent, turning his vision to mist. Song Yuzhang looked at Nie Xueping—looked at the man he had never quite been able to see through—and repeated softly, “Xueping… he did it to save me.”
Nie Yinbing was silent for a long time. His fingers, which had been pinching Song Yuzhang’s cheeks, finally released.
A moment later, Nie Yinbing picked him up. Song Yuzhang’s gaze remained on Nie Xueping. His head was dizzy and aching, no longer feeling like his own. He grabbed Nie Yinbing’s clothes and whispered, “I’m not leaving. I want to look at him a little longer.”
“You’re hurt,” Nie Yinbing looked down at him—from his pale, handsome face to the blood seeping from his shoulder—and said calmly, “I won’t let you get hurt again.”
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