Song Yuzhang: Chapter 136 - Keep Him Company
Chapter 136: Keep Him Company
Song Yuzhang’s history of romance—if one really traced it back—was complicated yet vague. Complicated in number, vague in type. They were all well-born, fair-skinned, handsome young masters. Later, when his world’s order changed, the pattern of his lovers changed as well.
Yu Feiyu was a style that was half-new, half-old—new in form, old in spirit.
Good family background, well-educated, intelligent, worldly, with a career, ambition, and a bright, straightforward temperament… add all these together, and they amounted to three words: someone he could love.
Someone he could love was also someone he could leave.
Song Yuzhang planned ahead. When he woke in Yu Feiyu’s arm, he felt peaceful and comfortable, because nothing about Yu Feiyu suggested the signs of painful longing.
Yu Feiyu had woken much earlier.
In truth, he had barely slept at all.
All night, his mind felt like it had exploded. Every old piece of knowledge, every theorem in his head had been overturned. He stared at Song Yuzhang’s face and thought: perhaps the earth might not be round, but Song Yuzhang was certainly a celestial being on earth.
That such a being would spend one night with him—Yu Feiyu silently offered his thanks to every deity of heaven and earth, eastern and western, of yin and yang. In the end, he still felt it wasn’t enough—his blessing was far too great. By the time Song Yuzhang woke, Yu Feiyu was in the middle of thanking the venerable Newton.
The curled lashes of the person in his arms fluttered, and a soft, misty light spilled from his eyes. Yu Feiyu was dazzled—and discovered that after a whole night of sleep, Song Yuzhang didn’t even have eye crust.
Was he a celestial beauty? Or a demon?
Narrowing his gaze slightly, Song Yuzhang looked at Yu Feiyu and noticed a faint green stubble on his chin. He reached out and touched it. The stubble was short and coarse, prickling his palm. Song Yuzhang leaned in slightly and drew in a breath. The scent on Yu Feiyu’s body was just like the man himself—simple, clean, clear. A faint hint of sweat, and the unmistakable scent of a man. A man’s scent.
Holding his breath, Yu Feiyu cautiously lowered his chin into Song Yuzhang’s palm. Song Yuzhang cupped his face. “You’re awfully hairy.”
Yu Feiyu flushed slightly, embarrassed. “Am I?”
“Very.”
Song Yuzhang’s lips curved ever so slightly. “Among all the people I’ve ever seen, you have the most.”
Yu Feiyu suspected that what Song Yuzhang meant was not “seen,” but “slept with.” Ordinarily, hearing such a thing would make anyone uncomfortable, wounded.
But Yu Feiyu was not an ordinary person. Hearing it, he felt it was only natural.
Someone like Song Yuzhang—who could possibly monopolize him? It wasn’t the old days. Back then, an emperor could lock someone inside the palace just for his own pleasure. But even if they went back to that era, Yu Feiyu certainly wasn’t an emperor.
He also knew his own nature. He had once believed he would live alone for life, never imagining he would be blessed with a moment like this.
Yu Feiyu thanked the heavens, thanked fate, thanked Newton—and especially thanked Song Yuzhang. Not for sleeping with him, but for existing in the world: brilliant, radiant, and for letting a stray beam of that light fall on him.
The bank was closed today, and Song Yuzhang was also resting. Yu Feiyu accompanied him downstairs for breakfast.
The heating in the Song residence had not yet been turned off. Song Yuzhang wore a thin silk robe—dark satin, his chest to his collarbone all smooth, pale, bright lines. Sitting at the endless vermilion dining table, he looked both noble and effortlessly graceful.
“Don’t stare at me,” Song Yuzhang took a sip of coffee. “Using me as a side dish?”
Yu Feiyu lowered his head and drank his coffee as well. “I’m leaving the day after tomorrow. I want to look a little longer.”
Song Yuzhang smiled faintly, teasing, “One night wasn’t enough?”
Yu Feiyu’s face flushed a little. He hadn’t expected his all-night vigil of admiring beauty to be seen through so easily. A thought struck him. “You weren’t asleep?”
“I slept very well.”
“Then how did you know…”
Song Yuzhang put down his coffee, picked up a slice of bread, and said casually, “I guessed.”
Yu Feiyu held his cup in silence for a long time, feeling that Song Yuzhang was not only a beauty—he was a hero.
Back in Haizhou, Yu Feiyu was a true bachelor. Though he had plenty of friends, few really cared about his day-to-day existence. Lately the factory had been extremely busy. He was constantly pulled into tasks, hardly finding any time for himself. Yesterday, he carved out time by force—dumping his work on his deputy. The matter didn’t really require him personally anyway, so he slipped out, nearly forgetting to shave.
He had escaped the factory like fleeing a disaster, never dreaming he would stumble into such an unreal, extraordinary encounter. To Yu Feiyu, it was Song Yuzhang who resembled an emperor, and he himself had been favored by imperial grace the previous night.
And he felt not the slightest discomfort or humiliation in his heart. The emperor’s favor was vast; he, the humble citizen, gratefully accepted.
Thinking this, his face brightened—happy, but in a way that was neither servile nor suppressed.
He was always cheerful, and seeing him happy made Song Yuzhang happy as well.
After breakfast, Song Yuzhang lounged on the sofa, reading the newspaper lazily. He read, and Yu Feiyu watched him. Both were content in their own way.
Turning a page, Song Yuzhang suddenly felt itchy-handed and casually placed his hand on Yu Feiyu’s thigh. Yu Feiyu’s thigh was firm and long, very pleasant to touch. After giving it a squeeze, Song Yuzhang calmly resumed reading his paper. Yu Feiyu, too, hardly reacted—just smiled joyfully and continued watching him, equally calm.
In that serene, pleasant atmosphere, Song Yuzhang read the newspaper and thought that if he were truly an old-style lord, and could take someone like Yu Feiyu as a concubine—someone sensible, perceptive, obedient, and well-behaved—what a delight it would be.
As for why not as his wife, Song Yuzhang didn’t think deeply about it. He simply felt instinctively that Yu Feiyu suited the role of a concubine or secondary wife.
After this New Year, Song Yuzhang still had two more months before turning twenty-one. Twenty-one was hardly an age for taking a wife—he hadn’t had his fill of fun yet.
So having a concubine to amuse him, to keep him happy—that was quite enough.
Unfortunately, Yu Feiyu still had to go out to work on the railway. Song Yuzhang turned a page of the newspaper with a calm expression, and at the same time slid his hand once more over Yu Feiyu’s thigh.
This thigh—every touch was one less in the future. While he still had a thigh to touch, he might as well touch it.
Once Yu Feiyu left, who knew where he could find another such pleasing person to comfort himself?
Suddenly, Song Yuzhang felt Yu Feiyu’s rare value. He stopped reading the newspaper, went over, and sat directly on Yu Feiyu’s lap, kissing him on the lips again and again.
Ever since he reached adulthood, Song Yuzhang had rarely been without people around him. He also knew very well that he was a strange person: alone, he felt lonely; with company, he found it troublesome. But weren’t humans born contradictory? Song Yuzhang had always loved himself, always accepted himself fully. Perhaps some matters in this world could shake him for a moment, but in the long run, he still loved himself the most. He wanted himself happy, comfortable.
The two of them, in broad daylight, grew intimate in the downstairs hall. Yu Feiyu, educated in the Western style and with departure imminent, didn’t feel shy at all. He kissed Song Yuzhang wholeheartedly. Song Yuzhang was clearly a master of kissing, and after a night’s training, Yu Feiyu had improved greatly too. In the warm room, both dressed thinly, the remnants of last night’s passion slowly revived between them—
“Fifth Young Master.”
Outside, a servant called carefully, “Someone is here looking for Mr. Yu.”
The factory had gone to great effort to track down Yu Feiyu. Upon seeing him, the man rushed forward anxiously: “Mr. Yu, you must come back with me right now—the entire factory is waiting on you!”
Yu Feiyu was baffled. “Isn’t it just a bit of missing engine oil? Anyone can add that.”
The man didn’t know how to explain. He certainly couldn’t say: The boss ordered us to keep you tied down at the factory, so we can’t let you go. Though he himself didn’t know what exactly the boss intended, failing to complete the task terrified him—after all, the boss's temper was not something to provoke.
“There’s another problem. You should go back and take a look. No one else can handle it!”
Despite the man’s urgency, Yu Feiyu remained unmoved.
Recently, he had constantly been held up by strange, trivial matters. They called them technical issues, but when he arrived, it would turn out to be something like cotton fluff stuck in the gears.
He was indeed an engineer, but this wasn’t just a waste of talent—it was deliberate troublemaking.
Before, Yu Feiyu hadn’t bothered arguing with them, because he was naturally easygoing. But now things had changed. He didn’t intend to waste the little time he had left on meaningless tasks.
“I still have things to do,” he declined politely, adding a suggestion, “All those problems you mentioned can be handled by my assistant, Xiao He.”
The man grew frantic, unable to think of any excuse. In desperation, he reached out and grabbed him. “Oh, Mr. Yu, don’t make things difficult for me. What serious business can you be doing here? Our boss and the Song family don’t get along…”
“Is that so?”
Just as the two were tugging back and forth, a voice came from behind—light, amused.
Yu Feiyu hadn’t actually been dragged anywhere, only looked helpless. But the instant he heard Song Yuzhang’s voice, he flung off the man’s hand and turned toward him, an expression of absolute loyalty, pure and chaste, on his face.
Half-hidden behind the door, Song Yuzhang leaned out slightly, wearing a faint smile. He spoke gently: “There’s trouble at the factory?”
The man had just complained that his big boss and the Song family didn’t get along—who knew how long Song Yuzhang had been listening behind the door? Being caught speaking ill behind someone’s back made him lose confidence immediately. “Yes, President Song. There’s trouble at the factory, and everyone is waiting for Mr. Yu to come back and take charge. If you don’t need him, I’ll take him now.”
“I always thought Mr. Yu was highly respected at your factory. But from your tone, it sounds like you summon him and dismiss him at will.”
The man was a small supervisor in the factory—utterly insignificant before someone of Song Yuzhang’s standing. Flustered, he stammered, “N-no, of course we respect Mr. Yu greatly. It’s just that the factory is terribly busy…”
Throughout this, Song Yuzhang kept smiling—until, suddenly, he wasn’t. His face turned cold. “He’s staying here with me today. He’s not going anywhere.”
He pulled Yu Feiyu by the arm, and Yu Feiyu smoothly followed him back inside the Song residence.
Once the door closed, the hand on Yu Feiyu’s arm slid down to entwine with his own. Being held so possessively made Yu Feiyu feel that Song Yuzhang was domineering—and he liked it.
The man had failed to bring Yu Feiyu back and thus had to return to the factory alone, praying desperately that the big boss wouldn’t come by for inspection today.
The Meng family owned scattered businesses everywhere, with the docks being most important. The big boss didn’t visit the cotton mill every day.
But the more one feared something, the more it came. Not long after the man returned, Meng Tingjing arrived.
It was early spring—everything was renewing. Orders at the cotton mill had increased. Meng Tingjing hadn’t come specifically for inspection, but since he had acquired the mill not long ago, he was paying closer attention. He checked the machine rooms and storage, found nothing amiss, and stood at the entrance, surveying the entire factory with a satisfied glance.
And then—almost as if guided by instinct—his eyes swept over every corner inch by inch, finally narrowing on a few people hiding inside. He asked, “Where is Yu Feiyu?”
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