Song Yuzhang: Chapter 121 - Transporting Cargo
Chapter 121: Transporting Cargo
Meng Tingjing did not interfere with Song Yuzhang’s trip to Vienna. But the next day, when Song Yuzhang came over to the Meng residence, he was subjected to quite a thorough inspection in bed. Meng Tingjing thought his probing was subtle and unnoticeable, yet there was no hiding it from a seasoned libertine like Song Yuzhang—he had far too much experience with being caught in the act.
“What’s this supposed to mean?” Song Yuzhang raised his brows. “Trying to control me?”
Meng Tingjing refused to admit it. “Looking at you a couple of times counts as controlling you?”
Song Yuzhang chuckled, pulling up his trousers as if ready to leave. “If you won’t be honest, this is boring.”
Meng Tingjing immediately pinned him down. “You’re just overthinking. How am I the one being boring?”
“Fine, look all you want. But why stare behind my ear? What’s there, a flower growing?”
Meng Tingjing laughed, then pressed a hard kiss behind his ear. “Yes, I’ll find it for you.”
Song Yuzhang’s body had many “switches.” Kiss him in one spot and he’d laugh; another spot and he’d squirm; another spot and he’d tremble… Only after being with Song Yuzhang again did Meng Tingjing realize that their very first time had been like Zhu Bajie gobbling down ginseng fruit—swallowing it whole without tasting its sweetness. Back then, he had been too inexperienced, assuming that was already the peak of earthly pleasure.
Now, after experiencing more with Song Yuzhang, he couldn’t help but regret letting him slip away back then, leaving Nie Xueping the chance to step in.
Fortunately, Nie Xueping was dead. Otherwise, sooner or later, he would have dealt with Nie Xueping himself.
After another round of passion, Meng Tingjing held Song Yuzhang in his arms, running his hand from the top of his hair to the very ends, and spoke calmly, trying to reason with him. “Now, we count as friends, don’t we?”
Song Yuzhang, still draped in laziness, thought it over and accepted the label of “friends.”
Friends were safe. Even friends who slept together—it was fine to acknowledge that.
“As a friend, I should at least have the right to care about you, right?”
That made Song Yuzhang laugh. He looked up, eyes carrying a half-smile. “Stop right there. I know exactly what you’re about to say. You want to claim you’re not controlling me, you’re just caring about me, right? Tingjing, don’t play word games with me. You’d better first think about what I make a living on.”
Meng Tingjing’s wise words were shot down before they even took flight, and at the same time he realized he had nearly forgotten that Song Yuzhang was a swindler by trade.
To think he could fool a conman—he really was overestimating himself.
He sighed silently in his heart, his expression stiffening slightly. With a flick of his hand, he switched off the bedside lamp and gave up. “Sleep. Enough talk.”
Song Yuzhang laughed twice in his arms at being scolded instead, then suddenly reached up to touch Meng Tingjing’s face.
“Relax. I’m not the type to keep several lovers at once.”
Meng Tingjing’s stiff expression softened faintly in the dark.
Song Yuzhang’s hand slid from his cheek down to his lips. Meng Tingjing pressed a light kiss to his fingertips.
“Tingjing, don’t overthink. Isn’t it good enough, just like this?”
Meng Tingjing cursed inwardly—good, my ass—but outwardly, he kissed Song Yuzhang’s fingers again. “Mm. Sleep.”
The two had reached a tentative understanding. True to his word, Song Yuzhang didn’t keep multiple lovers. Whenever he had free time, he went to the Meng residence. Calculating it carefully, Meng Tingjing realized he occupied nearly all of Song Yuzhang’s leisure hours, and that left him very satisfied.
In time, he was certain he could break through the defenses around Song Yuzhang’s heart.
There was, however, one thorn still stuck in Meng Tingjing’s chest.
Every so often, Song Yuzhang went to visit Nie Bonian.
Of course, he wouldn’t be jealous of a child. But Nie Bonian was Nie Xueping’s son. It was obvious enough whose face Song Yuzhang was honoring when he visited.
What’s more, whenever he went to the Nie residence, he couldn’t always avoid running into Nie Yinbing—and those two also had a history.
Though Meng Tingjing disliked it, there was nothing he could do. Song Yuzhang didn’t like being controlled, and so Meng Tingjing could never truly feel that their relationship was as good as Song Yuzhang thought. What he wanted was a relationship where he had the right to “control” Song Yuzhang. And if Song Yuzhang wanted to control him in turn, he’d welcome it—after all, he’d always lived cleanly, with nothing to hide.
As for Song Yuzhang, his visits to Nie Bonian weren’t nearly as complicated as Meng Tingjing imagined.
He knew Nie Bonian. He liked Nie Bonian. And Nie Bonian was an orphan. Any two of those reasons alone would have been enough to make him want to look after the boy.
Besides, Nie Bonian was so well-behaved, so lovable, and so fragile. A child like a delicate rose—what was wrong with showing him more care?
“That’s a wonderful drawing.”
Song Yuzhang praised the little kitten Nie Bonian had sketched, ruffling his short hair with a palm. “How long did you work on this today?”
“Over an hour.”
“Did you take breaks in between?”
“Yes.”
“Good boy.”
Song Yuzhang kissed his cheek. “Bonian is the best.”
Nie Bonian smiled at him, then kissed his face back. “Brother Yuzhang is the most handsome.”
Song Yuzhang couldn’t help but laugh. He scooped the boy into his arms and spun him around. Nie Bonian giggled, his laughter bright and joyous—and so, Song Yuzhang too felt joy.
He could sense himself slowly, piece by piece, becoming “whole” again.
The credit for his recovery should include a share from Meng Tingjing.
Meng Tingjing was like a whirlwind, using his own strength to forcibly drag him out of the whirlpool.
Of course, even without Meng Tingjing, Song Yuzhang could have recovered on his own. But with Meng Tingjing, he did get better a little faster—there was nothing wrong with admitting that.
Whatever faint gratitude Song Yuzhang had toward Meng Tingjing was thrown to the dogs the moment they met again that night.
Today was unusual. It was Meng Tingjing who came to the Song household to see him. Song Yuzhang didn’t object and even had the kitchen prepare fine wine and good dishes to treat him.
Up to this point, everything remained fairly harmonious.
After dinner, the two of them strolled on the lawn. Aside from the night wind being a little chilly, the atmosphere was still pleasant.
Then Meng Tingjing decided he didn’t want to leave.
Song Yuzhang smiled. “Go back. I’ll come to your place tomorrow.”
Hands clasped behind his back, Meng Tingjing looked at the view outside the window of Song Yuzhang’s room. Outside was nothing but darkness, with only a faint glimmer on the lake. The scenery was dreadfully uninspiring. He said, “What, is it that no one can stay here?”
Song Yuzhang made a small concession. “I’ll have a servant prepare a guest room for you.”
“I meant here,” Meng Tingjing tapped the ground beneath his feet.
Song Yuzhang’s tone cooled slightly. “Go back.”
Meng Tingjing turned his face back, gaze calm. “Why won’t you let me stay?”
“No reason.” Song Yuzhang’s tone was a touch harder.
Rationally, Meng Tingjing knew he should leave. But his feet refused to move. He also knew Song Yuzhang had just returned from the Nie household. “What is it you’re so wary of? Or is it that you’re afraid of something?”
“Meng Tingjing,” Song Yuzhang’s voice grew cold, “that’s enough.”
Meng Tingjing’s chest rose and fell faintly, his bright eyes flashing a few times. In the end, he swallowed his temper and left.
This time, the two did not see each other for three days.
When free, Song Yuzhang would go to Shen Chengduo. He didn’t know that at the very sight of him, Shen Chengduo’s mind filled with indecent thoughts—his circle was always full of beautiful young men. Song Yuzhang, however, had long since aged out of that category. At eleven or twelve he might have barely counted, but by thirteen his body had already begun to develop, and he had steadily grown into a handsome man. There was little chance of him being delicate and pretty.
Whenever Song Yuzhang arrived, Shen Chengduo would instantly set aside whatever business he had to entertain him.
Song Yuzhang regarded him as both a drinking companion and, in some sense, a confidant.
Shen Chengduo was good at amusing himself. He always had been, though nowadays less so, but still passable—after all, he too was slowly “recovering.”
“What’s the matter?” Shen Chengduo probed. “Had a quarrel with someone?”
Song Yuzhang glanced at him. “Quarrel? With who?”
“Your lover, of course,” Shen Chengduo said casually.
Song Yuzhang smiled but didn’t deny it.
Shen Chengduo perked up. “Who is it, so ungrateful as to upset you?”
“Nothing like that.” Song Yuzhang set down his wine glass and cupped it in his palm. “I don’t get upset over things like this.”
“Impressive.”
Shen Chengduo gave him a thumbs-up. “A real man.”
Song Yuzhang clinked glasses with him. “Right back at you.”
Shen Chengduo thought: since he already acknowledges I’m a real man, why won’t he consider me? Even just a hint would do.
But Song Yuzhang gave him no such hint. Instead, what caught his attention were the locally made cigars here—of surprisingly good quality, carrying a faint fruity aroma.
“They’re all gone. If you like them, I’ll pick up more next time I get a shipment.”
“Thanks.”
Shen Chengduo patted him on the shoulder. “Between the two of us brothers, no need for thanks.”
Song Yuzhang’s shoulders were broad and straight—firm under the pat. Yet even that was enough to send Shen Chengduo’s imagination running wild. It was strange indeed: there was something about Song Yuzhang, an odd kind of charm that appealed to men and women alike, refined or vulgar, it didn’t matter.
The cold war wasn’t pleasant. In the end, it was Meng Tingjing who extended an olive branch, sending the Meng family car to fetch Song Yuzhang. Song Yuzhang didn’t put on airs either. Their relationship was one of mutual need—equal footing. Putting on a temper was the behavior of lovers, not of “friends.” After a quarrel, they were still two stout fellows.
The Meng family cook had received special orders and pulled out every trick in the book, preparing a feast that dazzled Song Yuzhang. Once full and satisfied, the two naturally went to Meng Tingjing’s courtyard, and without another word, got right to it.
Having been with Song Yuzhang for this period, Meng Tingjing had gradually grasped some of his nature.
Song Yuzhang had a fine body, pleasing to look at and powerful in use, with abundant energy. In bed, he had no affectations whatsoever—his appetite from inside out could truly take one’s life.
A man like this couldn’t be left idle; his energy had to be thoroughly drained.
After this “short parting that felt sweeter than a wedding night,” they went at it from morning until night. Meng Tingjing made no mention of the unpleasantness at the Song household, and neither did Song Yuzhang. He merely patted Meng Tingjing’s chest and asked, “Got cigars?”
Meng Tingjing thought to himself: Damn it, like I owe you!
“Yes.”
Song Yuzhang leaned against his chest, smoking. As he smoked, he drawled, “Your cook is still the best.”
Meng Tingjing asked, “Aside from the cook, is there really nothing else good here?”
“Fine, the cigar is good.”
“What else?”
Song Yuzhang, lips curved, clamped the cigar between his teeth. He thought, forget it—being happy is what matters; saying a few nice words won’t cost him anything. He used to be generous with sweet talk to whoever was in his bed.
But now he was no longer who he once was, and those kinds of words didn’t seem quite suitable for Meng Tingjing, leaving him feeling strangely awkward. Song Yuzhang mumbled, “You’re… not bad either.”
Meng Tingjing’s palm hovered lightly at his neck. “Not bad?”
Song Yuzhang’s Adam’s apple was a little sensitive; being pressed made him want to laugh and also interfered with his smoking. “Pretty good.”
“Pretty good?”
“Alright—alright, fine then—”
Coughing as he pushed Meng Tingjing away, Song Yuzhang said, “Don’t mess with me, I’m smoking. This cigar is excellent.”
Meng Tingjing pressed down on his shoulder. “Which is better—the cigar, or me?”
Song Yuzhang glanced at him with a half-smile. “Do you really need me to compare?”
“Not saying?”
Meng Tingjing pretended he was about to tickle him.
Song Yuzhang drew in a long breath of smoke, turned, and pulled Meng Tingjing into his arms, passing all the cigar smoke into his mouth. Meng Tingjing stopped pressing the question, clasped his hand, and rolled on top of him.
So long as one didn’t dig too deeply into what really supported this happiness, their relationship did feel very sweet.
Because he was in high spirits, Song Yuzhang even went to the Nie residence a little less often—not that he feared Meng Tingjing would pester him with endless questions, but simply because, quite naturally, he went less.
Perhaps this, too, was part of his “getting better.”
But he was not yet at the point of forgetting.
Thus, when Meng Tingjing once more suggested spending the night together at the Song residence, Song Yuzhang refused again.
This time, Meng Tingjing didn’t press. He would just mention it whenever it came to mind; the day Song Yuzhang grew impatient enough to finally say yes would probably be the day he had truly walked out of the shadow of that matter.
Meng Tingjing offered “nothing but good intentions,” yet his persistence would sometimes dampen Song Yuzhang’s mood.
One thing led to another, and they quarreled again.
Song Yuzhang hadn’t lost his temper in a long time, but once he did, he really wanted to use his fists—because Meng Tingjing could be truly infuriating.
Meng Tingjing also wanted to strike back, but inwardly clung to his principle: a man does not hit his spouse.
Song Yuzhang slammed his fist down on Meng Tingjing’s desk and turned to leave.
Just when it seemed they would part on bad terms, Meng Tingjing rushed forward and grabbed his arm. He said nothing—better to get into bed first, then talk.
Sure enough, a man’s anger could only really be vented either through fighting or through sex. After “fighting” it out in bed, both of them were much calmer.
Meng Tingjing, having learned his lesson, proactively lit a cigar and placed it between Song Yuzhang’s lips.
Song Yuzhang smoked for a while, then suddenly said, “We’ve been together a little over a month now.”
Meng Tingjing grew alert. He slipped an arm around his waist and brushed his palm across his cheek. “What, are you thinking of throwing a one-month banquet?”
Song Yuzhang coughed twice, then deliberately blew a mouthful of smoke right into Meng Tingjing’s face. Meng Tingjing took it with his eyes closed, then lowered his head and kissed him again.
They fooled around in bed once more. But Song Yuzhang, resolute, got up to leave afterward. Lately their relationship seemed to be overstepping boundaries—it was time to pull it back.
Meng Tingjing didn’t stop him. After Song Yuzhang washed up, he too dressed neatly. “I’ll see you off.”
“No need.”
“I’ll see you off,” Meng Tingjing’s tone sank slightly. “If you want to go, I won’t stop you. But if I want to send you off, you shouldn’t stop me either.”
They had agreed not to interfere in each other’s choices. That was only fair, and Song Yuzhang had no grounds to object. So, in the dead of night, Meng Tingjing personally escorted him back to the Song residence.
Once there, Meng Tingjing said he was thirsty. Song Yuzhang didn’t want to wake the servants, so he poured him tea himself. Meng Tingjing only took a sip before pulling him down onto the sofa.
Song Yuzhang was fully recovered now—there was no way a couple of rounds in bed could reduce him to a frail youth again. If Meng Tingjing wanted to act shameless, then he wouldn’t hold back either—time for a beating.
Meng Tingjing took a punch to the stomach but, instead of getting angry, laughed and bit down on the back of Song Yuzhang’s hand. “Not bad, plenty of strength. So when you cried ‘I can’t take it anymore’ in bed, it was all an act?”
Song Yuzhang bent his knee up against him. “Tingjing, I advise you not to mess around.”
Meng Tingjing held him tightly in his arms. “Can’t I stay?”
“You can stay. Pick any guest room upstairs.”
“And if I want to sleep in the master’s room?”
“Then by all means,” Song Yuzhang said coolly. “Song Zhenqiao’s room hasn’t been cleaned in ages. If you don’t mind, be my guest.”
Seeing that he wouldn’t yield no matter what, Meng Tingjing understood it wasn’t yet the right time.
This man had opened his body to him, but remained stingy with everything else.
Meng Tingjing didn’t mind.
The tighter Song Yuzhang guarded his own heart, the more satisfied Meng Tingjing felt.
This proved that Song Yuzhang had never truly loved anyone before, still hiding that treasure of true feeling as though it were a priceless gem.
To obtain a treasure, one must pass through hardships and dangers—what was this little setback in comparison?
Meng Tingjing loosened his embrace, settling for a compromise: “Let’s just sleep together, I won’t touch you.”
“No.”
Even faced with such a firm rejection, Meng Tingjing didn’t get angry—probably because his fire had already been spent in bed. “All right, then I’ll go back.”
He completely released his hold. After taking a few steps, he turned back with a faint smile still lingering on his face. “Kicking someone out in the middle of the night—you really are something.”
Song Yuzhang shoved both hands into his pockets, feigning indifference.
Meng Tingjing gave him a deep look. “I’ll come again next time.”
Song Yuzhang’s eyes flickered—perhaps it was just the light of the crystal chandelier reflected in them.
Meng Tingjing had barely taken two steps outside when he heard the sound of a car. He froze. Who would come to the Song residence at such an hour? His steps slowed, but he had no intention of hiding.
The car pulled in. The door opened, and out stepped Nie Qingyun, wrapped in a long coat over a long dress.
She stood on the gravel path. Meng Tingjing stood on the steps. The two crossed gazes in the dim night. Nie Qingyun was startled, while Meng Tingjing remained calm. “Nie Qingyun?”
Nie Qingyun steadied herself only after recognizing him. Distraught and preoccupied, she gave Meng Tingjing a hurried nod, then ignored him entirely as her high heels clicked rapidly toward the house.
Meng Tingjing lingered on the steps for a long while, torn between leaving or returning. In the end, he chose to leave.
He couldn’t push too hard. Lately, Song Yuzhang had already begun showing signs of wanting to distance their relationship again. In any case, Nie Qingyun was a woman—she surely wouldn’t be here for some secret tryst with Song Yuzhang.
Nie Qingyun herself never imagined there would come a day when she would take the initiative to seek out Song Yuzhang again. But she had no other choice.
Song Yuzhang was tidying away the teaware. Hearing the sound of high heels, he almost thought he was mistaken.
He had heard the car too. He assumed it was Meng Tingjing leaving. He never expected Nie Qingyun to come in.
Under the brilliance of the crystal chandelier, Nie Qingyun’s face revealed a pallor and panic that could not be hidden.
Song Yuzhang’s heart gave a jolt. He hurried forward to greet her. “Sister Qingyun, what’s the matter?”
Seeing him, Nie Qingyun felt none of the bitterness or pain she had harbored months before. Instead, she was struck by a strange sense of warmth and reliance. “You must go and talk to Second Brother. He wants to transport the goods himself—I really can’t dissuade him!”
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