Song Yuzhang: Chapter 140 - Seeing Someone Off
Chapter 140: Seeing Someone Off
“You’re going to take him abroad yourself?” At first, Song Yuzhang was a little surprised, then he immediately realized that this idea must have been brewing in Song Qiyuan’s mind for quite some time—otherwise he wouldn’t have spoken it so smoothly in such a moment.
These days, Song Qiyuan had become an important figure at the bank. With the spring quarter beginning, bank affairs were abundant, the Chamber of Commerce had plenty going on, and Song Yuzhang himself still intended to move forward with constructing the factory. Even imagining it, Song Yuzhang could already foresee just how busy the coming months would be.
For Song Qiyuan to leave at this time… truly was not ideal.
After weighing it for a moment, Song Yuzhang wanted to object—or offer another suggestion. But when his gaze met Song Qiyuan’s eyes, he instantly realized: Song Qiyuan had already made up his mind.
The bank, the Chamber of Commerce, the factory… all these things weighed far less in Song Qiyuan’s heart than his half-mad eldest brother.
The words of persuasion reached Song Yuzhang’s lips but were swallowed back. He changed direction: “All right.”
Song Qiyuan exhaled in relief. He placed a hand on Song Yuzhang’s knee and spoke softly, “Fifth, you’ve been bearing everything alone. You’ve worked hard.”
Song Yuzhang smiled faintly. “How can it be hardship when it’s for myself? Third Brother, go with peace of mind—I understand your heart.”
Hearing these words softened something deep inside Song Qiyuan. He tightened his grip on Song Yuzhang’s knee and whispered, “I truly can’t afford to lose any more family.”
Song Yuzhang pressed down on his hand and patted it. “Go to America. Take the chance to rest, enjoy yourself. You’re familiar with American stocks and bonds—but scenery? That you’re sorely lacking in.”
In the midst of this lighthearted banter, Song Qiyuan pulled himself together again. He walked Song Yuzhang to the door and reminded him, “The Meng family is powerful. Don’t confront them head-on. Wait for me. When I return, I’ll bring you a few capable people you can rely on.”
“Don’t worry,” said Song Yuzhang. “I’m not that easy to deal with.”
When it came to Song Yuzhang’s abilities, Song Qiyuan trusted him completely. Step by step, he had watched the path Song Yuzhang walked. He knew nothing about his past, but he trusted him all the same.
That Song Qiyuan was leaving—Song Yuzhang had not anticipated it at all.
Of course, Song Qiyuan was not leaving forever. But without noticing it himself, Song Yuzhang had already grown accustomed—accustomed to having a Third Brother with no blood relation, someone who looked unruly and unrestrained, yet was in truth steadier and more dependable than anyone. And now that Song Qiyuan was about to leave, Song Yuzhang realized how reluctant he was to see him go.
When Song Yuzhang returned to the Song residence and pushed open the gate, he saw Yu Feiyu on the lawn… walking a bird.
The weather had warmed, and the big white bird was finally freed from the luxurious Song estate. Yu Feiyu had grown up in the countryside, chickens and dogs all around; he was used to dealing with fowl. So he took it upon himself to groom and feed the big white bird on the lawn, playing with it. The bird, prideful and lofty as always—equally disdainful toward all humans—was, surprisingly, quite polite toward Yu Feiyu.
With bird feed in hand, Yu Feiyu circled the lawn, and the big white bird waddled along behind him—not chasing, not being chased—friendly and relaxed.
Song Yuzhang couldn’t help laughing. Hands in his pockets, he watched for a long while. Only when Yu Feiyu realized he was being observed did he stop and beam at him. “You’re back.”
As for being punched—Yu Feiyu didn’t mention a word of it, nor did he ask.
Seeing him return only now, Song Yuzhang guessed that Yu Feiyu must have been stopped by someone. He likewise refrained from asking, and simply went over and took Yu Feiyu’s hand. “You really get along with everyone.”
Yu Feiyu laughed loudly. “I raised chickens as a kid, and herded ducks.”
“Oh? I thought you were born a young master.”
“A young master? Not quite. My family didn’t have servants.”
This piqued Song Yuzhang’s curiosity about Yu Feiyu’s upbringing.
Not because he had any particular personal interest in Yu Feiyu—just genuine curiosity about what kind of household produced someone as straight and bright as Yu Feiyu.
That night, the two of them talked as if they had been friends for years. When tired, they lay down on the bed and continued talking. Song Yuzhang’s arm rested against his, listening quietly as Yu Feiyu recounted lively childhood stories of fishing and shrimping.
Everything Yu Feiyu had lived through was far removed from him. Those carefree joys were things he could only imagine, not experience—and even imagining them was difficult. It was hard to picture a seven-year-old who, after losing a chess bet with his father, went to cook dinner and nearly fell into the pot—embarrassing yet joyful.
Song Yuzhang’s heart was calm as water—not envious, not yearning, only regretful.
Yu Feiyu was good… but merely good.
On March 14th, Yu Feiyu departed to oversee the construction of the first railway section in Haizhou.
Haizhou dispatched many carriages. As chief engineer, Yu Feiyu accepted farewells from all sides.
Government representatives, the Chamber of Commerce, even school students came to “send him off to battle.” Drums and gongs sounded; it was lively. And the weather was perfect—under a cloudless blue sky, the bright, festive colors of the crowd were a perfect match.
Liao Tiandong, director of the Transport Bureau, stood atop a small earthen mound in the suburbs—a makeshift podium—and delivered a farewell speech.
The speech was cheerful, radiant, and utterly useless—beautiful nonsense. Nobody listened, except Yu Feiyu.
Once he finished, Liao Tiandong invited Song Yuzhang to say a few words.
Song Yuzhang declined, and the two pushed back and forth a few times before he finally stepped onto the mound. Looking toward Yu Feiyu in the distance, he smiled gently. Without any long speech, he said, “I hope everything goes smoothly. May everyone return victorious, and may Haizhou’s railway soon be completed to connect all directions.”
The simple message was received with applause. After that, student representatives presented flowers. Holding a large bouquet of lilies, Yu Feiyu boarded the car. As the engine started, he leaned out the window and waved the flowers, saying farewell once more.
In the distance, the crowd waved back. Yu Feiyu seemed to see Song Yuzhang waving—or perhaps he didn’t. He slowly withdrew his hand and sighed softly inside the car.
The lilies in his arms had curled petals still carrying dew. He inhaled deeply, catching the faint fragrance. He thought to himself: “A dewdrop-fated romance—good luck.” After a moment, he added silently: “I will love him for a lifetime.”
Song Yuzhang, unaware that Yu Feiyu had vowed to love him forever, lowered his hand and clasped both behind his back, already losing interest.
Liao Tiandong watched the cars drive away in a cloud of dust and said with some emotion, “If things go quickly, it might even be finished before winter this year.”
“Let’s hope so,” said Song Yuzhang.
Liao Tiandong turned to Nie Yinbing. “Mr. Nie, I trust the ore supply will be handled diligently.”
Nie Yinbing grunted in response.
Since they had little to say to each other, Liao Tiandong turned toward Meng Tingjing. “Boss Meng, you… you’ll cooperate with them, won’t you?”
Meng Tingjing also let out an “mm,” accompanied by a not-so-friendly glance. Liao Tiandong’s words carried a hidden implication—as if he would deliberately sabotage the railway project. He wasn’t that shortsighted; he would never do such a thing. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have sent someone as exceptional as Yu Feiyu. That senior brother of his—temperamental as he was—was an irreplaceable expert in industrial work.
Sensing how unwelcome he was, Liao Tiandong muttered a few more polite phrases that nobody responded to, then took his leave. Once he left, many others departed as well. After all the farewells, only the chairman, vice chairman, and their respective associates remained in the outskirts.
Song Yuzhang did not leave. Not only did he stay, he even pulled out a cigarette and lit it, looking prepared to linger for a while.
Meng Tingjing said, “Waiting for someone?”
With a cigarette between his fingers, Song Yuzhang smiled and imitated the two of them, giving a vague “mm.”
Nie Yinbing stayed silent. Meng Tingjing didn’t speak either—keeping quiet was easy enough.
Song Yuzhang didn’t send them away. He simply smoked at leisure. Just as his cigarette was nearly finished, a carriage slowly appeared in the distance.
Coincidence—Xiao Fengxian was also returning to his hometown today.
Aside from the people around him, Xiao Fengxian hadn’t told anyone else. He had only sent someone to the Song residence to deliver a message. He hadn’t expected Song Yuzhang to come see him off—he just wanted to inform him.
“Fifth Young Master—!”
Xiao Fengxian was delighted. He hopped off the carriage and threw himself into Song Yuzhang’s arms, draped in a long, elegant robe of pure white.
With the cigarette still between his lips, the corners of Song Yuzhang’s mouth curved upward. He lifted Xiao Fengxian and spun him half a circle, laughing. “You’re going to knock me over.”
The two of them climbed into the carriage to talk.
Originally, Song Yuzhang had been standing between Meng Tingjing and Nie Yinbing. Now that he was gone, a hollow space opened between them—two people suddenly rendered strangers.
Meng Tingjing glanced at Nie Yinbing from the corner of his eye and found the man utterly indifferent, uncaring, unembarrassed. Meng Tingjing was quietly surprised—this block of wood could actually fall in love with someone.
“Fifth Young Master, I’ll be gone for a month this time. The White Tower will also take a month’s break—for me.”
Resting against Song Yuzhang’s chest, Xiao Fengxian spoke with a certain pride.
“Without you there, no one will go to the White Tower to listen to opera.”
Xiao Fengxian burst out laughing. “You only know how to sweet-talk me.”
“If I don’t sweet-talk you, who else should I sweet-talk?”
“You’re awful—”
Their chatter and laughter spilled from the carriage. It grated on Meng Tingjing’s ears, yet he couldn’t leave. He had to endure it, adapt to it. Song Yuzhang was not his—not yet. He had no right, no reason to interfere. For him, this was a form of cultivation.
Song Yuzhang wasn’t deliberately displaying affection with Xiao Fengxian in front of Meng Tingjing or Nie Yinbing. He truly was reluctant to part with Xiao Fengxian. Xiao Fengxian did not “love” him—nor did he “love” Xiao Fengxian. Their feelings were the same: a fondness unrelated to gender or desire. A fondness that could perhaps be called—friends.
Xiao Fengxian kissed him on the lips. “Fifth Young Master, I’ll miss you.”
Song Yuzhang lowered his head and returned a brief kiss. Xiao Fengxian opened his mouth slightly, and the two shared a clean, clear kiss—affectionate but free of desire. Xiao Fengxian sighed softly, eyes reddening. “I never imagined my soulmate would be a man.”
Song Yuzhang gave a light laugh. “If I were a woman, you probably wouldn’t have the chance to meet me.”
Xiao Fengxian thought for a moment, then smiled. “True. If Fifth Young Master were a woman—such a beautiful woman—you’d have married long ago. How could you still be coming to listen to opera?”
Song Yuzhang squeezed his delicate, boneless hand and kissed the back of it. “Safe travels.”
He stepped down from the carriage. Xiao Fengxian didn’t follow. He urged the driver forward, and the carriage slowly set off.
Inside, after a gentle sway or two, Xiao Fengxian reached beneath his collar and pulled out a thin necklace. On it hung a small heart-shaped pendant. He opened it, revealing a portrait inside.
Song Yuzhang—long brows, star-bright eyes, spirited and handsome—looked right at him.
Beautiful. Truly beautiful.
He had clipped the photograph from a newspaper and pasted it inside. Staring at it from left to right, he felt that the brows and eyes of this soulmate looked vaguely familiar—as if he had seen them long ago somewhere. The details eluded him. He simply closed the pendant and tucked it back under his collar.
After sending off Yu Feiyu and Xiao Fengxian, the next morning Song Yuzhang went to the airport to see Song Qiyuan off.
Plane tickets were scarce—only a few flights from Haizhou to United States each day. The fact that Song Qiyuan had secured two tickets showed just how thoroughly he had prepared.
“Do you have concrete plans once you’re abroad?”
“I have a few friends living overseas. I’ve asked them to contact doctors there. America’s psychiatric medicine is very advanced.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
As for Song Jincheng, Song Yuzhang had never felt much affection. Of the four Song brothers, he could say that this Song Jincheng was the one he liked least. Even Song Yekang could make him laugh occasionally. But Song Jincheng—he found nothing lovable about him.
Back then, even for someone as insignificant as Le Yao’er, Song Yekang had at least been willing to spare her and her unborn child. Song Jincheng, however, had been ready to kill the child without hesitation. If not for the urgency of the situation, he might very well have gone after Le Yao’er herself.
Though Song Jincheng was truly unpleasant, he was still Song Qiyuan’s eldest brother. Song Yuzhang turned his head left and right and asked, “Where is he?”
Song Qiyuan replied, “Eldest Brother’s stomach is upset. He’s run to the restroom several times.”
“Don’t miss the flight time.”
“It’s fine,” Song Qiyuan lifted his gloved hand. “The flights haven’t left on time even once these past few days.”
The two continued chatting casually about bank affairs. After a few minutes, Song Qiyuan sensed something was wrong. He checked his watch and said, “I’ll go see what’s taking Eldest Brother so long.”
Song Yuzhang stayed where he was, a vague unease settling in his chest.
Sure enough—before long, Song Qiyuan came rushing back from the restroom corridor, his expression changed. “Something’s wrong—Eldest Brother is missing again!”
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