Song Yuzhang: Chapter 111 - The Onset of Winter
Chapter 111: The Onset of Winter
The winter in Haizhou truly was as powerful as they said—cold came when it pleased, without the slightest hesitation, freezing people until their hands and faces turned bright red.
Once the hot water radiators started running, the Song residence finally became warm. Song Yuzhang couldn’t bear to let the big white bird freeze outside, so he told a servant to bring it indoors.
The big white bird couldn’t understand human kindness and flapped about restlessly. It took a whole group of people no small effort to finally catch it. One servant, risking having his forehead pierced by its long beak, carried the bird inside to the warm room. The moment the bird felt the warmth, it shivered—and immediately repaid their kindness by dropping a huge pile of bird droppings right on the floor.
“Clean that up,” Song Yuzhang said as he pulled on sheepskin gloves and headed out. “And get it something to eat—don’t let it fly upstairs.”
“Alright.”
Song Yuzhang took a car to the bank. Liu Chuanzong was waiting at the door to open it for him. “President.”
“Is everyone here?”
“They’re all here.”
Song Yuzhang strode briskly into the bank. The temperature inside was reasonably warm. He took a few quick steps to the upstairs conference hall. Liu Chuanzong pushed the door open, and all the bank presidents turned their eyes toward the doorway.
Song Yuzhang gave them a slight nod. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Lately, major events had been happening one after another in Haizhou—shocks coming in waves. The bank presidents no longer had the energy to care who had been shot or executed; all they cared about now was money. The year was coming to a close, and balancing interest payouts was no easy task.
“President Song, you called us here so early in the morning, saying you had a way to solve the treasury bond issue for us. Well, how exactly do you plan to solve it? Let’s hear it. It’s year-end—everyone’s busy.”
Song Yuzhang smiled. “President Zhao is indeed straightforward—refreshingly so. In that case, I’ll be blunt. I want to issue bonds. The Chamber of Commerce chairman has already agreed.”
The bank presidents exchanged glances. “Issue bonds at a time like this? Do the common people even have money left?”
Song Yuzhang smiled faintly. “Why wouldn’t they? At year’s end, they get their principal and interest payouts—money, isn’t it?”
“You mean, have them put the money right back into the bank?”
Song Yuzhang nodded. “Exactly.”
The room buzzed with quiet discussion again.
In reality, the banking business was indeed poor now—things were too unstable, and money was hard to earn. Being able to pay out interest at all was already good. Haizhou was still relatively fortunate; in nearby cities, quite a few banks had already collapsed.
“If you’re issuing bonds, the interest won’t be low, right?”
“Not low—three percent.”
Three percent was considered quite high for banks at the moment.
“And where will that interest come from?”
Song Yuzhang’s smile didn’t fade. “My bank naturally has its own way.”
The room went silent. Some presidents even looked annoyed. The Song Bank’s wealth and strength were obvious to all—it was the leader among Haizhou’s private banks. On top of that, it had invested in Haizhou’s only railway. Naturally, the smaller banks couldn’t compare; they couldn’t afford to pay such high interest. Why call them here just to flaunt it?
“Gentlemen, we all run private banks. In many ways, we have it harder than those government-backed institutions. Since the Song Bank has made a name for itself in Haizhou, it ought to offer more support to everyone. Regarding the treasury bond purchases, I hope you will do your utmost to subscribe. In return…”
He paused, then addressed them steadily. “I am willing to issue joint bonds with you all, and I also invite you to take part in the railway investment.”
The conference room fell silent again. The presidents stared at the young, handsome man in the main seat, almost unable to believe their ears.
If the Song Bank was willing to issue joint bonds with them, that meant it would use its own credibility to back them—that alone was shocking. And now he was offering them a share in the railway?
“Gentlemen, we use the joint bonds to gather funds, then invest those funds into railway construction,” Song Yuzhang said, tapping his finger on the table and drawing a circle. “Once the railway is completed, will we still have to worry about paying three percent interest?”
“Take some of the cash your banks already have to fulfill this year’s treasury bond subscriptions. If Haizhou’s private banks support the government so strongly, the government will certainly reward us—I can guarantee that. Once the joint bonds are issued, your bank’s funds will fill up quickly. If you’re willing to trust me, as long as we work together, the treasury bond subscriptions, year-end interest payouts, and the future growth of our banks will all be no problem.”
“There are too many private banks in Haizhou, each doing its own thing. It’s confusing for the public to choose. Banking is tough now. We’re all in the same boat, so I won’t bother with polite words. Let’s talk profits—many of you may look good on the outside, but inside, you’re barely scraping by.”
Leaning back slightly, he continued, “One bank may not earn the public’s trust. Many banks together will not only greatly boost credibility but also spare us the pain of undercutting and competing with each other. As the chairman said, we should get through hard times together.”
Placing his left palm on the table, his gaze swept the room firmly. “Times are dangerous. I am willing to advance and retreat alongside you all.”
When he finished, the room was still silent, but the expressions on the presidents’ faces showed they were already making their own calculations.
Just then, there was a knock on the conference room door.
Liu Chuanzong stepped inside and said evenly, “President, Director Liao is here.”
“Alright.”
Song Yuzhang rose from his seat. “Gentlemen, I have another matter to attend to, so I’ll take my leave. Please consider today’s proposal carefully. If possible, give me your answer soon—time is short. If it’s too late, I may not be able to help you.”
He turned to Liu Chuanzong. “Old Liu, see our guests out.”
Leaving the conference room, Song Yuzhang returned to his own office.
Liao Tiandong was standing with his hands behind his back, gazing out the floor-to-ceiling window at the street. Hearing the door open, he turned with a smile. “You’ve got quite a nice view here.”
“If Director Liao likes it, you’re welcome to visit anytime.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
Liao Tiandong’s eyes shifted to the desk, his chin tilting toward it. “They say the Song Bank’s gold is piled into mountains—what, you’re setting gemstones into your desk now?”
Song Yuzhang casually brushed a hand over the pigeon-blood ruby and smiled faintly. “I was going to use it to prop up a desk leg, but the surface isn’t even—not very practical.”
Liao Tiandong froze for a moment, then realized from Song Yuzhang’s teasing smile that he was joking. He chuckled twice and looked back out the window.
Outside, expensive luxury cars lined the street. People exiting the bank climbed into them one after another. Liao Tiandong recognized the cars, and the men too. Without showing any expression, he turned back. “Calling me over this early in the morning—what’s the matter?”
“Have a seat.”
Song Yuzhang sat down on the sofa. “Director Liao, you’ve been busy?”
Song Yuzhang sat down on the sofa. “Director Liao, you’ve been busy?”
“That’s my fault—especially since I dragged you over here.”
“Ah, don’t say that like we’re strangers.” Liao Tiandong crossed one leg over the other and let out a thoughtful sigh. “When we have the chance to meet, we should do it more often. Life is unpredictable.”
Song Yuzhang was silent for a moment. “Yes… we should.”
The railway project had originally been a joint investment between the Nie, Meng, and Song families. Now that Nie Xueping was dead, the Nie family’s money was still there, but things had inevitably changed. Meng Tingjing’s harsh words were no empty threat. What exactly was going on within the Nie family now was hard for anyone to say. Who would ultimately control the railway was still a complete unknown
“Director Liao, truth is, I asked you here today because I have some real business to discuss with you.”
“Go on.”
The moment he heard “real business,” Liao Tiandong perked up, straightening his back. Every time Song Yuzhang talked business with him, he came out ahead. For that reason alone, he was happy to chat longer.
Song Qiyuan knocked urgently on the office door. Soon he heard Song Yuzhang’s voice inside, warm with a hint of laughter: “Come in.”
Pushing the door open, he saw Liao Tiandong stand up from the sofa, smiling in satisfaction. “Brother Song, then we’ll meet at the usual place tonight?”
Song Yuzhang shook his hand with a smile. “See you there.”
“Director Liao.”
Standing aside at the doorway, Song Qiyuan greeted him. Liao Tiandong, in especially high spirits, chuckled: “Brother Qiyuan, haven’t seen you at the opera for a while. You’ve got to pace yourself—work and rest in balance. Don’t let Xiao Fengxian think of you so much he can’t sleep.”
Song Qiyuan wasn’t sure if he was just joking or hinting that his approach to him at the theater back then had been intentional. He replied quickly: “End of the year’s been busy. Brother Tiandong, you’ve got more pull with Xiao Fengxian. When the New Year’s opera comes, I’ll have to trouble you to get me a seat.”
“Haha.” Liao laughed again and flicked his sleeve toward Song Yuzhang. “You’re going the long way around. In front of Xiao Fengxian, no one’s face carries more weight than President Song’s.”
Song Yuzhang smiled faintly. “Jealous?”
“Hmph, jealous is putting it lightly—I downright admire you. Just wish my parents had given me your ‘delicate beauty,’ haha.”
Still grinning, Liao Tiandong left. As soon as the office door closed, Song Qiyuan strode over to the sofa, his expression changing. “The Nie family sent someone—they say they want to recall that thirty million US dollars loan, principal and interest.”
Song Yuzhang sat calmly, showing no panic. “I know.”
Sitting down, Song Qiyuan no longer jumped at shadows the way he used to. He crossed one leg and frowned slightly. “This is making an enemy.”
Half a year ago, the Song family had still hoped to marry into the Nie family. Who could have guessed that instead of in-laws, they’d end up mortal enemies?
From the Nie family’s perspective, Song Qiyuan could understand their feelings. But Song Mingzhao had already paid with his life—did personal grievances have to spill into business?
Back when the Nie family agreed to lend money, it was largely thanks to Song Yuzhang pushing for the railway deal. Even if it hadn’t brought glory, it had been hard work—there was no need to burn the bridge after crossing.
“An enemy is an enemy.” Song Yuzhang took out a cigarette. While he lit it, Song Qiyuan noticed the scab on his finger had fallen away, leaving tender pink skin. “So, what do we do now?”
“Director Liao’s treating tonight. Everyone will be there—we’ll discuss it then.”
“Oh,” Song Qiyuan replied. “Do I need to go?”
“You?” Song Yuzhang gave him a half-smile. “You’re not Xiao Fengxian. What, planning to put on makeup and perform a play for us?”
“Go—”
Song Qiyuan laughed and patted his leg. “I don’t have your delicate beauty, wouldn’t dare make a fool of myself.”
“Ah,” Yuzhang sighed as he smoked. “A man’s jealousy can be dangerous too. So, Brother Three, how are your results in the stock market?”
Song Qiyuan lifted his chin proudly. “Not much—just some winnings.”
“Winning or losing doesn’t matter,” Song Yuzhang said through a cloud of smoke. “What matters is what you learn. By the way, I heard Eldest Brother is dabbling in stocks and bonds too?”
“Seems like it,” Song Qiyuan said. “He’s got to find something to do.”
Song Yuzhang’s gaze sharpened. “You didn’t get him into it, did you?”
Song Qiyuan froze, then bristled and stood. “Fifth Brother, you think I’d do that?”
Leaning back against the sofa, Song Yuzhang said softly, “Don’t be upset. I suspect everyone.”
Song Qiyuan stared at him, then sat back down.
Indeed, Song Yuzhang could suspect anyone. The Song family had dumped debt on him and nearly gotten him killed.
“I didn’t bring him in,” Song Qiyuan said quietly. “But I didn’t hide it from him either. Maybe he saw me doing it and thought he’d try for a little profit.”
“In that case, best you avoid him from now on.”
“…Alright.”
Song Qiyuan left, closing the door gently. After a few steps, he couldn’t help turning back.
He felt that Song Yuzhang had changed—become even more hard-edged and direct than before. In that, he caught a faint glimpse of Song Zhenqiao.
Shaking his head, Song Qiyuan pushed away the thought and left.
Song Yuzhang took Liu Chu to the dinner.
The residence, even in winter, remained lush and green. There was no bleakness—just that the flowers, unable to hold out, had all withered. The view was colorless and without fragrance.
Inside, by the fireplace, stood a tall figure in a black robe.
Hearing footsteps, the man turned. His face was fair and handsome. Looking Song Yuzhang over, he said, “Why aren’t you in mourning clothes anymore?”
In a light linen suit that looked crisp even in winter, Song Yuzhang smiled faintly. “Tingjing, it’s been a few days—you still have such a punchable mouth.”
Meng Tingjing put on a show of cold anger, though his eyes threatened to smile. “Come here, I’ll let you hit me.”
Song Yuzhang shook his head with a faint smile. “No.” He turned toward the door. “My hand hurts.”
Meng Tingjing followed him out. They stopped beneath a tall magnolia tree outside. It was getting dark; the residence lights had come on, casting a soft yellow glow.
“All better?” Meng Tingjing asked casually.
“No.”
“Still that sad?”
His own father’s death had only kept him down for two or three days— Nie Xueping’s first seven days had already passed, and this still wasn’t over?
Song Yuzhang suddenly slapped his shoulder from behind. “Try getting shot in the shoulder—see if it’s that easy.”
Looking at his calm profile, Meng Tingjing felt a stir in his chest. He had meant to say that wasn’t what he was asking, but seeing Song Yuzhang’s expression brought him a faint happiness. He leaned in slightly. Song Yuzhang raised a hand to shield the side of his face.
Meng Tingjing pulled the hand down. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Letting him hold it, Song Yuzhang gave him a half-smile. “Afraid you’ll bite me.”
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