Song Yuzhang: Chapter 112 - A Very Painful Gathering for Director Liao

November 27, 2025 Oyen 0 Comments

Happy Reading~

Chapter 112: A Very Painful Gathering for Director Liao

 

Liao Tiandong came in, saw the two holding hands, and said with a laugh, “Well, well, the two of you are getting along nicely—why are you still holding hands?” He then teased, “Truly a perfect match.”

 

Meng Tingjing had known Liao Tiandong for several years, but today was the first time he found him so agreeable. He smiled at him and was just about to reply when Song Yuzhang pulled his hand away and said, “Director Liao, come, let’s shake hands too.”

 

Song Yuzhang went over and shook hands with Liao Tiandong. Playing along, Liao Tiandong imitated a Western gentleman and gave Song Yuzhang a hand-kiss. “Many thanks for your favor, President Song.”

 

Liao Tiandong felt he was especially well-connected today. After letting go of Song Yuzhang’s hand, he turned to Meng Tingjing. Just now, Meng had smiled at him warmly. “Boss Meng, shall we shake hands too?”

 

Meng Tingjing gave him a long, cold face.

 

Liao Tiandong immediately laughed awkwardly and pretended he hadn’t said anything, thinking to himself, This bastard’s mood changes so unpredictably—no wonder we fell out back then!

 

Since it was cold outside, the three of them went into the inner room.

 

Liao Tiandong recalled the last large gathering at the racetrack when the four of them were together and, feeling sentimental, began speaking at length about mourning Nie Xueping.

 

Meng Tingjing listened, gritting his teeth, finding Liao Tiandong unbearably irritating.

 

Glancing coldly at Song Yuzhang’s reaction, he saw that while he didn’t look heartbroken, he still appeared somewhat distant.

 

Meng Tingjing felt both disgust and a faint sense of comfort.

 

For someone who died for you, no one should forget so easily.

 

Even if Song Yuzhang was as cold-hearted as iron, he still seemed to be moved.

 

Not long after, Nie Yinbing finally arrived.

 

The moment his figure appeared, Liao Tiandong instinctively stood up.

 

Nie Yinbing was nothing like Nie Xueping!

 

If Nie Xueping was like the warm spring breeze, then Nie Yinbing was the exact opposite—he seemed born with an unapproachable aura. The moment he entered, Liao Tiandong felt the room grow three degrees colder.

 

Arriving last, Nie Yinbing did not apologize, for he wasn’t late. Even if he had been, he wouldn’t have apologized—after all, if you’ve already wasted time by being late, wouldn’t apologizing just waste more?

 

So, in Liao Tiandong’s eyes, he was willful and rude: “Let’s start the meal.”

 

Without greeting anyone, he went straight to giving orders like the host. Liao Tiandong almost blacked out—not from anger, but from realizing that losing a cooperative partner like Nie Xueping and replacing him with Nie Yinbing was no good news for him.

 

“Oh, since Second Master Nie is here, let’s have the kitchen serve the food.”

 

Liao Tiandong, ever the diplomat, acted as though the offense didn’t bother him and tried to steer things back to small talk. “Second Master Nie, busy at the mine delayed you, right?”

 

Nie Yinbing glanced at him. Liao Tiandong waited, holding his breath for a reply—none came. Instead, Nie Yinbing turned to a servant and asked where the dining room was.

 

Liao Tiandong nearly choked.

 

In the past, only Meng Tingjing was hard to please at such dinners. Three against one still made for a harmonious atmosphere. But now both Meng Tingjing and Nie Yinbing needed to be placated. Sitting down, Liao Tiandong was already sweating. Middle-aged, with thinning hair and a shiny forehead, the sweat made him look especially conspicuous. He quickly pulled out a handkerchief to wipe it. “It’s quite warm in here.”

 

No one responded. So, before his words could fall flat, he picked them up himself: “Really warm, yes.” His attempt was so clumsy he could feel his own face turn green.

 

The banquet unfolded in unprecedented silence. The Guangdong chef’s skill, as always, was top-notch—but it only served to prolong this unbearable quiet.

 

Without Xiao Fengxian to liven things up, the atmosphere was icy cold. Liao Tiandong was about ready to break into a performance himself—truth be told, his singing wasn’t bad among amateur enthusiasts.

 

He had skipped the banquets for the funerals of all three Haizhou tycoons for various reasons. Now, facing all three of them in one long, silent dinner, he felt as though he’d just eaten three full funeral feasts in a row—he was stuffed.

 

Finally, the meal ended. Liao Tiandong immediately suggested moving elsewhere; he couldn’t stand the suffocating silence. They moved to the sofas by the fireplace, where at least he could listen to the crackle of sparks.

 

“Today’s gathering is actually to discuss some business,” Liao Tiandong finally abandoned his usual official smooth talk, deciding to speak directly. “President Song and I have discussed and decided to issue railway bonds through Song Bank.”

 

Whether it was because he was too blunt or for some other reason, both Nie Yinbing and Meng Tingjing remained expressionless.

 

Liao Tiandong, tired of serving them all evening, decided to dump the matter entirely on Song Yuzhang. Turning, he patted Song Yuzhang’s shoulder: “Brother Song, I’ll let you explain the rest to them. I have other matters—got to go!”

 

He fled the warm yet ice-cold mansion.

 

Meng Tingjing glanced at Song Yuzhang, his gaze aimed at the shoulder where Liao Tiandong had patted him. Liao Tiandong had no sense—who knew if that slap had reopened Song Yuzhang’s shoulder wound?

 

“The railway bonds—I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. Building a railway benefits the people, so the funding should come from the people and be used for them. By issuing bonds, everyone will have more cash on hand for circulation.”

 

Meng Tingjing’s thoughts instantly jumped from Song Yuzhang’s shoulder to those four words: “railway bonds.” His eyes narrowed as he looked coldly at Song Yuzhang.

 

“President Song,” Meng Tingjing said slowly, “What a clever plan.”

 

If Song Yuzhang wanted to raise money from the public through his bank, wasn’t that clearly an attempt to weaken Meng Tingjing’s control over the railway?

 

A flicker of dark anger rose in Meng Tingjing’s heart.

 

Back at the Nie family graveyard, he had pressured Nie Yinbing precisely so that Nie Yinbing wouldn’t focus all his attention on Song Yuzhang—because Nie Xueping’s death had already put Song Yuzhang in a difficult position. But now Song Yuzhang had turned around and slapped him in the face!

 

Still, the fire wasn’t blazing hot. Meng Tingjing thought, Nie Xueping gave his life—helping the Nie family is only right, and it’s not without feeling or loyalty. Then again—Loyalty, my ass! The man’s dead, Song Yuzhang’s still alive—why won’t he think a little more about me?!

 

Meng Tingjing stood abruptly. “Come here, I have something to say to you.”

 

Song Yuzhang remained seated. “Boss Meng, you first. I still have something to say to Nie… Yinbing.”

 

Yinbing? Calling him that familiar?

 

Meng Tingjing was both disappointed and angry. He believed that with Song Yuzhang’s intelligence, he must have understood the meaning behind his earlier words. Yet even knowing that, Song Yuzhang still chose to act this way. Couldn’t he have at least discussed it with him first?

 

Meng Tingjing, filled with anger, left and went into the inner room.

 

Now, only Song Yuzhang and Nie Yinbing were left. Song Yuzhang could finally start talking to him.

 

At present, the Nie family was completely open to Song Yuzhang. He came and went freely, often visiting the Nie residence to quietly see Nie Bonian. However, as for Nie Yinbing, he truly hadn’t run into him for many days.

 

Song Yuzhang said, “Yinbing, must the loan we borrowed from the Nie family really be repaid immediately?”

 

Nie Yinbing was silent for a moment, then replied irrelevantly, “Qingyun is auditing the accounts.”

 

Song Yuzhang instantly understood what he meant. “Then… is there any room for negotiation or an extension?”

 

“She is my younger sister.”

 

Song Yuzhang understood again—there was no room for discussion here with Nie Yinbing.

 

Nie Qingyun hated the Song family to the bone.

 

Because Nie Xueping had saved him, Nie Qingyun might not do anything directly to him, but playing tricks on the Song Bank would be as easy as lifting a finger for her.

 

If she were a bit more ruthless and spread news of the bank’s debts, it would spark another major crisis.

 

Perhaps she still had some scruples, fearing that stories about her elder brother and him might get out and bring shame to Nie Xueping.

 

After a brief silence, Song Yuzhang said, “Then I’ll go find her myself.”

 

Nie Yinbing’s gaze fell on him. Song Yuzhang’s attire, from head to toe, was that of a refined and polished banker—exuding expensive, meticulously crafted taste. His demeanor tended toward calmness, even coldness, making him seem even less like Zhao Jianfang.

 

Zhao Jianfang was down-and-out, yet happy—wild in manner, like a brightly feathered bird that loved to provoke and show off, always bobbing and swaying, full of chatter and laughter.

 

“She’ll be home tonight.”

 

“Good. Then you wait here for me—I’ll be right back.”

 

Song Yuzhang stood up, but Nie Yinbing stopped him. Looking down at the man seated on the sofa, he said, “It was my elder brother’s seven-day memorial the day before yesterday—you didn’t come.”

 

Song Yuzhang lowered his lashes. “I was afraid Sister Qingyun wouldn’t be happy to see me.”

 

Nie Yinbing stood up. He was slightly taller than Song Yuzhang. Now that he was the one looking down, Song Yuzhang’s fair, smooth forehead and lowered lashes made him look obedient and charming—finally showing a faint shadow of Zhao Jianfang.

 

Nie Yinbing didn’t know what to say. This was often the case with him—language was not a tool for communication, but rather a huge stumbling block.

 

“Does your shoulder hurt?” Nie Yinbing asked.

 

Song Yuzhang was slightly startled, instinctively raising his hand to touch his shoulder. “Not really.”

 

“Be careful.”

 

“I will.”

 

Song Yuzhang turned toward the inner room. As soon as he stepped inside, an arm wrapped around his waist. Meng Tingjing, like a bandit, pulled him into his arms. “Song Yuzhang, aren’t you something? While others are chasing you for money, you’re eager to help them scheme against me. What kind of spell have the Nie brothers cast on you? Don’t tell me Nie Xueping really pleases you that much—”

 

By the end, Meng Tingjing’s words had clearly slipped out without much thought. He was born with an innate arrogance, and if he didn’t restrain it, he would often sincerely belittle anyone—even those he liked.

 

Meng Tingjing realized it too, but his face flushed red with anger, and he had no desire to bow his head.

 

Helping Nie Yinbing plot against him—if he had even a shred of self-respect, he wouldn’t do something so humiliating as to take a slap and still ask if the other person’s hand hurt.

 

In his arms, Song Yuzhang was perfectly calm—so calm that he seemed at ease. “Tingjing, speaking this way is not endearing.”

 

“What, Song Yuzhang? You think just because I like you, I should wag my tail at you?”

 

Song Yuzhang stayed silent for a moment, not rising to the bait. Instead, he spoke softly: “You obviously have feelings for me—why go out of your way to mock me?”

 

Meng Tingjing froze for a beat. He loosened his grip slightly, turning Song Yuzhang to face him, his tone softening. “You know I have feelings for you, and you still treat me this way?”

 

“In business, we speak of business,” Song Yuzhang said. “Whether it’s you or the Nie family, if either one holds the railway alone, it’s no good for me.”

 

“Nonsense! How do you know I wouldn’t give you any benefit?”

 

Meng Tingjing blurted it out without thinking. After he said it, both he and Song Yuzhang paused, their eyes meeting as an odd, slightly awkward air spread between them. Meng Tingjing lowered his head to kiss Song Yuzhang, but the latter avoided him.

 

Meng Tingjing’s lips brushed against his cheek. His breathing was a little quick, and he murmured, “You know I like you, that I’d make concessions for you—why can’t you believe me? Do you need me to die for you before you will?”

 

Song Yuzhang squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “Don’t say things like that.”

 

Meng Tingjing lowered his voice. “He’s dead. I’m alive. You’re alive. For every day you live in the future, there will only be me, not him. I don’t need to compete with him—you’ve long stopped wanting him.” Meng Tingjing let go of him and looked at him. “As for the railway bonds—issue them. However many you issue, I’ll buy them all. I know you’re deliberately calculating against me, forcing me to put up the money, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve schemed against you, and you’ve schemed against me. We’ll see how it goes. Sooner or later, you’ll want me…” He fixed his gaze on Song Yuzhang’s eyes, speaking each word slowly: “Only me.”

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