Song Yuzhang: Chapter 131 - Chairman of the Chamber of Commerce
Chapter 131: Chairman of the Chamber of Commerce
On the tenth day of the new year, the Chamber of Commerce convened all its members in Haizhou for the annual business conference.
There were a total of four hundred and seventy-two members in the Haizhou Chamber of Commerce, and the grand hall was packed to capacity. The first two rows were reserved for the core members of considerable influence, with name tags carefully arranged in strict order—no mistakes allowed.
When Song Yuzhang arrived, most of the front-row seats were already occupied, except for the first and second seats.
Meng Tingjing and Nie Yinbing.
Song Yuzhang slipped both hands into his pockets, looked quietly at the two names, and then sat down in the third seat.
Given the current balance of power in Haizhou, the old chairman’s arrangement of seats was quite appropriate.
A dying camel is still bigger than a horse. The Nie family might be in chaos for now, but once the storm passed, they would recover in time. The old chairman knew that well. If Nie Xueping were still alive, ranking the Meng and Nie families’ seats might indeed have been difficult.
Song Yuzhang rubbed the strap of his watch, his expression calm.
Behind him, voices buzzed with chatter. To his right sat Haizhou’s “Seasoning Tycoon,” whose family produced nearly all of Haizhou’s soy sauce, vinegar, and salt—a man of substantial weight. Though Song Yuzhang wasn’t acquainted with him, a few sentences were enough to strike up conversation.
The two were chatting pleasantly when the tycoon’s expression suddenly straightened; he stood up at once. “Boss Meng.”
Meng Tingjing had arrived.
Instantly, more than a dozen people in the front rows rose to greet him.
Meng Tingjing’s tone was moderate, neither warm nor cold, his manner polite yet detached. He gave a general nod to everyone and said, “Happy New Year.” His eyes swept across the empty seats, and his gaze brushed past Song Yuzhang. Dressed in a black suit and black overcoat, Song Yuzhang looked stern and composed.
Meng Tingjing lifted his robe slightly and took the first seat, crossing one leg over the other as he gazed at the festive red stage ahead.
At eight fifty, the old chairman finally arrived. The moment he stepped into the hall, murmurs and movements spread throughout the crowd. Today was his day of retirement. The old chairman had served for over a decade, devoting himself to mediating disputes among the merchants—what many jokingly called “muddying the waters.” He had done so for years, and though he lacked boldness, he was well respected and deeply regarded as a man of integrity. Many small merchants owed him favors and were fond of him.
Greetings and congratulations filled the room, lively and boisterous.
“Each generation brings forth new talent,” said the old chairman as he exchanged pleasantries, his voice tinged with sentiment. “Seeing all of you so full of promise brings me great comfort.”
Everyone understood the meaning behind his words.
Today was not only his retirement but also the announcement of the next chairman. Clearly, the incoming leader would be one of those “full of promise.”
And everyone already knew who it would be. After all, a single glance at the seat arrangement told the whole story.
It was no surprise. Who else in Haizhou could compete with the Meng family now?
Meng Tingjing rose to greet the old chairman. They exchanged a few words, and the old chairman grasped his hand, patting it meaningfully—his words heavy with implied endorsement.
“Yinbing.”
Song Yuzhang extended his hand.
Nie Yinbing arrived precisely at nine o’clock. The hall was crowded, but under Song Yuzhang’s signal, he made his way through the people.
“I knew your temperament,” said Song Yuzhang with a smile. “Not a minute early, not a minute late.”
Nie Yinbing glanced at the name on his seat before sitting down.
“Is that wrong?”
It seemed the first time Song Yuzhang had ever heard him question his own behavior. He smiled faintly. “Nothing wrong. It suits you.”
“This must be Mr. Nie, the second master?”
The old chairman released Meng Tingjing’s hand and turned to greet Nie Yinbing personally.
Nie Yinbing stood. “I am Nie Yinbing.”
The old chairman gave him a long, appraising look. “A true hero in his youth.”
Nie Yinbing neither thought himself a hero nor felt particularly young, so he answered only with silence.
The old chairman didn’t press further. He took a step back, looked over the three of them, and said, “From now on, Haizhou will depend on you young men.” His tone carried a hint of melancholy. Song Yuzhang rose as well. “Chairman, don’t say that. We young ones lack experience. We’ll still need your guidance and advice.”
The old chairman chuckled. “Ah, no need to be modest, President Song. You’ve spearheaded railway construction, issued bonds, raised funds—things I could never have imagined or achieved. I’m already old; the future belongs to you. Boss Meng, the railway project involves cooperation between your three families and the government. That makes me very reassured. You’re all young and share common ideals. You must work together harmoniously.”
Standing beside him, Nie Yinbing’s expression didn’t change; he only said flatly, “Of course.”
The meeting began. The old chairman took the stage while the three men sat down in sequence. Once seated, invisible lines of division formed between them. Song Yuzhang tugged lightly at Nie Yinbing’s sleeve; Nie Yinbing turned his face toward him, and they began whispering quietly to each other.
Meng Tingjing sat alone, commanding the front, a solitary figure. His hands clasped together tightly, each finger pressing against the other as if wrestling with himself.
He had been wrestling with himself the entire new year.
On New Year’s Eve, Meng Sushan’s words had echoed in his mind. The more he thought about them, the more familiar they sounded—until he remembered.
Song Yuzhang had once said nearly the same thing: that the two of them were not suited for each other, that staying together would only lead to mutual destruction. Lovers who couldn’t be lovers would inevitably become enemies. Better to part as friends than end in ruin. Their relationship, he’d said, was a dead end.
At the time, Meng Tingjing hadn’t accepted it. Though he hadn’t argued aloud, in his heart he’d resisted every word. Why couldn’t they be together? What gave Song Yuzhang the right to call them a dead end?
But time had proven him right.
Experience had made Song Yuzhang see more clearly. So was he wrong after all? Meng Tingjing still hadn’t decided how to move forward, what to do next.
He’d always been decisive—a man of swift and ruthless judgment—but in this matter, he hesitated.
And then he understood why.
Because he couldn’t afford to lose.
If he took a wrong step now, perhaps his and Song Yuzhang’s story would truly come to an end.
The old chairman, though aged, still had a lively spirit. He spoke endlessly for over an hour, full of sentiment and nostalgia. His voice even broke several times, and each time, the hall responded with rounds of applause.
After two and a half hours of pauses and speeches, the old chairman finally showed signs of wrapping up. He put on his reading glasses, picked up a document beside him, and began to read the most important part of the meeting in a slow, deliberate tone.
“I am already in my seventies, and my health and energy are not what they used to be. I find myself no longer capable of handling all the affairs of this Chamber. I am deeply grateful for the support and assistance you have given me over the years in my role as chairman. After an internal council meeting, the Chamber has decided to nominate Mr. Meng Tingjing as the next chairman. Given the special circumstances, and to ensure both efficiency and fairness, according to the pre-announced charter, this nomination will be decided by open vote today. If the number of those in favor exceeds half, the appointment will take effect immediately.”
Finishing his reading, the old chairman set the paper down, leaned slightly toward the microphone, and said, “Has everyone heard clearly? If you have, please raise your hand.”
Counters stood at both sides of the hall, ready to tally. Within less than half a minute, the count began from the back rows toward the front.
Satisfied with what he saw, the old chairman nodded and continued, “Very well, now please raise your hands if you agree to nominate Mr. Meng Tingjing as the next chairman of the Chamber.”
In no time, hands began to rise throughout the hall, creating a wave-like motion from front to back.
Sitting calmly in the chief seat, Meng Tingjing didn’t even turn his head. He already knew the outcome—he didn’t need to look. The counters called out numbers one after another. When the count reached the first row, Meng Tingjing’s gaze drifted casually to the right. One glance was enough—he didn’t need a second look. Song Yuzhang had not raised his hand.
Meng Tingjing’s expression froze, his face cold as ice. He tried to stay calm but failed. Waves of emotion surged violently in his chest. A force inside him urged him to reach out, to seize Song Yuzhang and demand: What is it about me that you find so unworthy? Why won’t you choose me?
All that “business is business” nonsense—he didn’t believe a single word. He was a man of power himself. The Meng family and all its enterprises were an extension of his will. What was reputation and influence for, if not to let him have his way? The only reason Song Yuzhang hadn’t voted for him—was that he simply didn’t want to.
Meng Tingjing didn’t need that single vote, yet its absence lodged in his throat like a bone he couldn’t swallow.
The final count reached the stage. The old chairman raised a hand to quiet the hall. “Good. Out of four hundred seventy-two members, two hundred and forty have voted in favor. Therefore, I hereby declare this nomination—” He stopped mid-sentence. His gaze shifted to the front row, where someone had raised a hand. “You may lower your hands,” he said.
But the hand didn’t go down. Squinting behind his glasses, he looked again and said, “President Song, do you have an objection?”
At last, Meng Tingjing could look directly—openly, unrestrained—at him.
Song Yuzhang’s long, slender arm rested lazily in the air before lowering slowly. “Yes,” he said.
The old chairman frowned slightly. “An objection regarding the next chairman’s appointment?”
“Yes.”
“This…” The old chairman hesitated, glancing around at the people beside him, then toward the audience. Meng Tingjing was already leaning forward, staring fixedly at Song Yuzhang.
The old man sighed inwardly. Young men and their tempers… probably just a business dispute. He’d mediated enough of those in his time. “Why don’t we discuss your objection after the meeting?” he suggested.
“Chairman,” said Song Yuzhang, his fingers interlaced, his gaze steady despite the weight of eyes pressing on him from across the row. “In the election charter released on the third day of the New Year, it stated that besides requiring a majority to pass, there was another clause: if more than one-third oppose, the vote must be redone. Is that correct?”
The old chairman rifled through the document and nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”
But there was a difference between getting more than half approval and having over one-third opposition.
Most of the remaining votes were neutral—neither in favor nor against. But explicit opposition was not the same as abstaining.
More than a third would mean over a hundred people voting against. Gathering that many objections would be no less difficult than securing half the votes in favor.
The old chairman began to feel uneasy.
If Song Yuzhang dared to challenge openly, he must be certain of his ground.
The chairman looked toward Meng Tingjing, hoping he might say something to defuse the tension and steer things toward a smooth transition.
But Meng Tingjing didn’t respond at all—he just stared hard at Song Yuzhang, his profile rigid and unblinking.
“President Song, are you truly submitting a formal objection?” the old chairman asked again, unwilling to give up. Then he added, as if prompting, “Boss Meng?”
But Meng Tingjing heard nothing. Saw nothing. All his senses were fixed on the man one seat away. And then came the answer. “Yes,” said Song Yuzhang. “I am lodging an objection.”
The hall fell silent.
People in the front rows began glancing toward them, whispering among themselves.
The old chairman looked from one to the other, saw Meng Tingjing still unresponsive, and finally cleared his throat. His brows drew together slightly as he said, “Then… is there anyone who opposes Mr. Meng Tingjing’s appointment as chairman? Let’s do this—standing will be clearer than raising hands.”
Standing up was far more conspicuous. The old chairman didn’t expect many to do so.
Indeed, silence filled the room.
He let out a small breath of relief.
But before he could exhale completely, Song Yuzhang stood up.
He was tall and upright, his figure commanding attention. The moment he rose, the hall’s quiet rippled.
Within seconds, several dozen people also stood—almost simultaneously, as though waiting for a cue.
Nie Yinbing stood too.
Another group followed, rising in quick, unified motion.
The old chairman was stunned. He lowered his glasses slightly and looked back. Among those standing, most were from private banks or related industries. The rest were once aligned with the Nie family—though their ties had long since faded.
“Far and distant, yet right before our eyes,” murmured someone.
Nie Qingyun blinked, then laughed. “What a joke. I’ll be blunt—given the current state of your Song family’s bank, how could you possibly command their loyalty?”
“The Song family bank certainly isn’t strong enough,” said Song Yuzhang, crossing one leg casually. “But what about the Chamber of Commerce’s chairman?”
……
“Chairman,” Song Yuzhang looked up at the stage, his voice clear and calm. “Please count.”
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