Song Yuzhang: Chapter 114 - Winter Will Pass
Chapter 114: Winter Will Pass
Song Yuzhang inexplicably discovered that he seemed to be pursued.
The word “seemed” was used because the whole thing was so absurd that he found it hard to believe.
Yu Feiyu, this man of exceptional brilliance and talent, appeared to have taken a liking to him after meeting him once. For three days in a row, he had been sending him flowers. Likely “Xiao Meng” was paying this senior brother of his quite handsomely, enough for him to squander money on such flashy and impractical things.
“President,” Liu Chu came in holding a large bundle of snow-white camellias, “that fake foreign devil sent flowers again.”
Song Yuzhang lifted his head, the pen sliding twice between his fingers before he tapped the desk. “Put it there.”
Liu Chu answered, placing the bouquet on the corner of Song Yuzhang’s desk. He fiddled with the flowers a little, then said in a careless tone, “President, you’re pretty popular with men, huh.”
Song Yuzhang set his pen on the desk and looked at him with a half-smile.
Liu Chu, thick-skinned as ever, grinned cheekily. “I think Second Master Nie also seems to like you. That time he hugged you really tightly.”
Leaning back in his chair, Song Yuzhang beckoned him over with a warm smile. “Come here.”
Liu Chu walked around the desk to him, and immediately his neck was caught in Song Yuzhang’s arm. Song Yuzhang looked tall and slender, but his arm was surprisingly strong, choking Liu Chu until he howled in protest.
“Hugged tight or not?”
“President, President, I was wrong, I was wrong…”
Song Yuzhang released him, and Liu Chu leapt back a good distance, clutching his neck and screwing up his face. “They say adults shouldn’t hold grudges against children. President, why are you picking on a kid like me?”
Song Yuzhang cast him a glance. “Do you want to be a child, or do you want to be my subordinate? If you want to be a child, then go home right now and drink milk. If you want to be my subordinate, then learn to control your tongue.”
Liu Chu had taken the scolding, but his face was still as thick as a wall. He stuck out his tongue, chuckled, and darted over to the door of the office. Leaning on it, he said to Song Yuzhang, “President, next time someone sends you flowers, I won’t say a word.”
When the door closed, Song Yuzhang turned his gaze to the drooping snow-white camellias and shook his head with a faint smile.
By the time the bank closed, Song Yuzhang walked out and found Yu Feiyu waiting for him at the entrance.
Yu Feiyu was tall, dressed in a dark green aviator-style jacket that made his legs look even longer. With the bright smile on his face, he stood out vividly in front of the bank on a winter’s day.
Yu Feiyu spotted Song Yuzhang first, and from a distance, he waved at him.
Song Yuzhang was relieved to see that Yu Feiyu wasn’t holding another bouquet of flowers.
“Mr. Yu.”
“President Song,” Yu Feiyu grinned, showing a row of bright white teeth. He seemed to radiate heat, brimming with vitality from head to toe. “I’m heading out of town tomorrow for some fieldwork, and before I go, I wanted to see you.”
“Oh…” said Song Yuzhang. “Yes, you should do some fieldwork. Do you have enough people?”
“Enough. There’s plenty of talent in Haizhou too.”
“Good.”
After that, Song Yuzhang didn’t know what else to say. He stood face to face with Yu Feiyu, both of them staring at each other as if in a silent standoff.
Yu Feiyu, however, wasn’t the least bit awkward. His breath came out in little puffs of mist as he asked, “President Song, are you busy tonight?”
Song Yuzhang thought for a moment before replying, “I am.”
Yu Feiyu still didn’t look embarrassed, not even a hint of disappointment at being refused. Instead, he said openly, “Then would you mind if I drove you to your appointment?”
Song Yuzhang was caught a little off guard.
Yu Feiyu added, “I’ve driven tanks in Moscow. My driving skills are excellent.”
Song Yuzhang had dealt with all kinds of people before, but this was the first time he had met someone like Yu Feiyu, who could always find something to say. Normally, it was he who did the coaxing.
Glancing at him, Song Yuzhang saw Yu Feiyu still smiling brightly. It was the kind of smile that never felt frivolous or irritating—it was genuine, heartfelt, and full of joy.
Song Yuzhang felt that it had been a long time since he himself had felt that kind of joy.
“All right.”
Yu Feiyu had come by car, and Song Yuzhang recognized it immediately—it was a car from the Meng family.
Yu Feiyu explained, “I haven’t been back in the country long, and I don’t plan to stay for too long either, so I didn’t bother buying anything. Xiao Meng has money and plenty of cars at home, so I just borrowed one from him.”
Sitting in the passenger seat, Song Yuzhang lifted his hand to his forehead, his brows shifting slightly upward. “Mm, Xiao Meng certainly has money.”
Yu Feiyu burst into hearty laughter. “Why do you also call him Xiao Meng? Aren’t you younger than him?”
“I go along with local custom.”
Yu Feiyu laughed again, turning his head to glance at Song Yuzhang. “President Song, you’re really interesting.”
Yu Feiyu’s family background was somewhat similar to Meng Tingjing’s. His father was also a great scholar. But unlike Meng Tingjing, he was more fortunate—because his father, aside from being a scholar, also doubled as a farmer rather than a lecher.
Mr. Yu had loved reading and farming all his life. When Yu Feiyu was young, after school, he would go to the fields to transplant rice seedlings.
It wasn’t that the family couldn’t afford to hire farmhands, but rather that Mr. Yu thought farming was great fun, and wanted his son to join in.
Yu Feiyu himself also thought farming was great fun.
Madam Yu, on the other hand, thought farming was dull, and much preferred walking the dogs.
In the Yu household, the evening scene was of Old Madam Yu holding her precious little Pekingese in her arms, watching her husband and son stepping into the mud of the rice fields to plant seedlings, laughing foolishly with joy.
Later, Yu Feiyu left his hometown and went to the capital to study. After that, he traveled across various countries, saw many sights, and upon returning home, he first spent half a month harvesting wheat before coming to Haizhou, where he became the lackey of his wealthy junior.
Before he left, the great scholar Yu had no requests of him, only that as long as he came back without missing an arm or leg, that would be enough—and if he could occasionally return home to do some farm work, even better.
Old Madam Yu’s expectations for her son were a little higher: “Feiyu, bring back a wife, won’t you? A foreign woman would do too.”
Yu Feiyu scratched his head, too embarrassed to ask whether a man would do.
Yu Feiyu liked men—he liked tall, handsome, dashing men, best if they also had a refined temperament, refined but not arrogant, and if they were witty in conversation, that would be perfect!
This very specific standard for men caused Yu Feiyu to suffer repeated setbacks on the road of romance.
In his early years, in Moscow, he had secretly harbored feelings for a young White Russian. But when he returned a year later, that beautiful young man had already become a ferocious gangster, knife in hand, slashing people in the streets.
One day, Yu Feiyu was holding a loaf of bread, watching the young man who once stirred his heart chase someone down the street and into an alley, slashing wildly.
Thus, his first love died prematurely.
Later in Paris, he fell in love at first sight with a movie star on the silver screen.
But after meeting him in person, he was so overwhelmed by the man’s body odor that he couldn’t enjoy watching movies for days.
Yu Feiyu’s love life was one of battle after battle, loss after loss, and yet he fought on—until he finally came to Haizhou.
And Song Yuzhang—he was practically the embodiment of Yu Feiyu’s dream lover. Dashing, elegant, impossibly handsome, with refined manners. Most importantly, he carried a certain aura—Yu Feiyu couldn’t quite describe it, only that it was deeply captivating.
“President Song, this is actually my first time in Haizhou. The winters here are colder than I imagined.”
“Is that so?”
“Look at me, I didn’t even bring many clothes.”
Song Yuzhang glanced at him and noticed he was indeed only wearing a coat and a shirt. “I thought, Mr. Yu, that you were simply trying to look fashionable.”
“Haha, I’m nearly frozen to death.”
“Why not buy a couple of new clothes then?”
“Too busy. The terrain around Haizhou is very complicated. From the maps, the mountains look rugged, and I don’t know what the conditions will be like on-site. All our plans are still theoretical. Hopefully, the theory will hold up in reality.”
“Yes, let’s hope it does.” After a sigh, Song Yuzhang’s gaze swept briefly over Yu Feiyu’s slightly reddened wrist. “Mr. Yu, why don’t I take you to buy some clothes?”
“Sure, but won’t it waste your time?”
“It won’t.”
Yu Feiyu smiled and turned back toward the department store near the bank.
Inside, the store was warm and filled with fragrance. Song Yuzhang had little interest in shopping himself—he only bought what he needed—but he helped Yu Feiyu pick out two coats and some cashmere sweaters.
“Would you like to try them on?”
“No need, these are my size. President Song, your eye is sharp.”
Song Yuzhang smiled. “Still, better to put one on—it’s cold outside.”
Yu Feiyu went in to change, and when he came out, Song Yuzhang was waiting outside the fitting room, standing with his back to the door. His bearing was so striking that Yu Feiyu thought he could rival the mannequins in the store. The mannequins were sculpted to perfection, yet Song Yuzhang was even more vivid and interesting.
Carrying the shopping bag, Yu Feiyu came out and said to him, “They told me you already paid.”
Song Yuzhang turned to look him up and down and said simply, “Not bad. It suits you well.”
Yu Feiyu had a figure made for clothes. The brown coat and light cashmere sweater were all in Song Yuzhang’s taste. Worn on Yu Feiyu, they lent him a trace of scholarly elegance at last.
Curious, Song Yuzhang asked, “Mr. Yu, you really don’t look like a…”
Yu Feiyu finished the sentence for him: “Don’t look like a scholar, right?”
Song Yuzhang smiled faintly, not denying it.
Yu Feiyu said, “Reading books doesn’t necessarily mean being frail. I’m very good at sports—tennis, basketball, both. President Song, we could spar sometime. Oh, and I fight pretty well, too.” Yu Feiyu waved his hand with a grin. “But forget that part, no need for sparring.”
Walking out of the store with him, Song Yuzhang asked, “So even scholars like to fight?”
“Of course. Why not? Scholars love to argue. When arguing leads nowhere, naturally, a fight follows. Abroad, foreigners often look down on us Asians, think we’re sickly weaklings. If you don’t show them otherwise, they’re unbearable. Back in school, I was the best fighter among the Chinese students, always standing up for my classmates. Later, Xiao Meng came. Xiao Meng was even better at fighting. But classmates still came to me for help, because Xiao Meng didn’t care whether it was a Chinese or a foreigner—if he didn’t like the look of someone, he’d beat them all the same!”
Song Yuzhang couldn’t help laughing, head lowered, lips curving slightly.
Seeing him laugh, Yu Feiyu also laughed. “President Song, do you still have an appointment to go to? If not, why don’t I treat you to dinner? You just bought me such warm clothes, I should return the favor.”
Originally, Song Yuzhang had only used this as an excuse, but now he truly felt a bit conflicted.
Yu Feiyu was not someone he disliked. On the contrary, being around him carried a lively, light-hearted atmosphere. And yet… Song Yuzhang couldn’t help feeling wary.
What if he turned out to be another Song Mingzhao or Nie Xueping?
Whether it was someone wanting him dead, or someone dying for his sake, it was all something he could no longer bear.
All the more so since Yu Feiyu was an important figure—getting too close to him was even less appropriate.
Song Yuzhang declined Yu Feiyu’s invitation to dinner, only asking him to drop him off at the Vienna Club.
Yu Feiyu said, “You’re meeting someone here?”
Song Yuzhang casually replied, “Yes.”
Yu Feiyu asked, “Then may I come in with you?”
Song Yuzhang thought about it, and since he had no reason to refuse, he didn’t object. After the two of them entered, Song Yuzhang had someone summon Shen Chengduo, who arrived quickly.
Song Yuzhang said, “Brother Shen, I’ve come as agreed.”
Shen Chengduo only froze for a second before immediately catching on, replying, “Brother Song, I’ve been waiting for you for a long time!”
Song Yuzhang turned back to Yu Feiyu and said, “Mr. Yu, please make yourself comfortable.”
Shen Chengduo glanced at Yu Feiyu and thought he looked very much like an athlete trying to disguise himself as a gentleman.
As the two went upstairs, Shen Chengduo asked, “What’s going on?”
Song Yuzhang said, “That’s the chief engineer for the railway construction. Keep a close eye on him—whatever you do, don’t let anything happen to him.”
Shen Chengduo instantly sobered, and quickly gave instructions.
They went upstairs and sat in a smoking lounge. Before coming down, Shen Chengduo had been lounging with a handsome young man in his arms, smoking a cigar. Song Yuzhang glanced at the boy and realized it was another unfamiliar face.
“Give President Song a cigar as well.”
The young man obediently answered. He wore only a dark-red silk robe, smooth and slippery, its movements outlining his body’s curves. His pale, tender hand held out a cigar, about to place it between Song Yuzhang’s lips. Song Yuzhang took it directly from his hand. “No need, I’ll do it myself.”
The youth nestled back into Shen Chengduo’s arms.
Song Yuzhang suddenly realized that he had lost all interest in this type of fair, delicate young man. Looking at the boy’s pale, beautiful face stirred no feeling in him at all. What he now needed and wanted was something fiercer, stronger—embraces and stimulation with real force.
“Brother Song, what’s wrong? You look so sullen.” Shen Chengduo was unrestrained, squeezing the youth’s waist with a lewd grin. “Want me to get you something more exciting?”
Song Yuzhang smiled faintly, taking a drag on the cigar. “More exciting?”
Shen Chengduo’s hand slid up from the youth’s waist, stroked his cheek, then pinched his face to turn it toward Song Yuzhang. “Xiao Yue’s mouth is quite something.”
Song Yuzhang looked at the boy—his lips were being pinched into a pouting circle, bright red, with the tip of his tongue faintly visible inside. It ought to have been alluring.
Yet Song Yuzhang felt nothing at all.
He lowered his head, smoking, his disinterest plain to see.
Shen Chengduo was puzzled. He knew Song Yuzhang had lost a brother, but losing a brother wasn’t the same as losing a father. And even losing a father didn’t stop one from carrying on, did it?
While he was still confused, there was a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
“Boss, that engineer gentleman just left. Before he went, he left a note for Mr. Song.”
“Oh? Bring it here.”
Song Yuzhang lazily unfolded the note.
Inside was a simple sketch: pen strokes outlined his back, slightly elongated and blurred as though swept by wind, giving him a lean, austere look.
Beneath it was a single line of small characters:
“Winter will pass.”
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