Song Yuzhang: Chapter 142 - Grain Requisition
Chapter 142: Grain Requisition
The Chamber of Commerce was in an uproar.
The authorities were requisitioning grain, and everything had to be collected by the end of March. The former chairman was willing to help, but even he didn’t have much surplus—he was only willing to hand over a small portion. Ever since he stepped down from that position, everything he handled was first and foremost for his own household. There was nothing wrong with that. The former chairman had been wise all his life, but his two sons and one daughter were hardly promising, and he had several grandchildren. He had to think ahead for his own family.
“Grain is scarce everywhere now. The higher-ups just open their mouths—‘requisition grain, requisition grain’—where are we supposed to conjure grain out of thin air?”
“In the past, the former chairman took on all these matters alone. Chairman Song, you’re in the prime of your life—don’t tell me you intend to push this burden onto our heads?”
People in the hall spoke over one another. Song Yuzhang kept smiling without saying a word. Nie Yinbing and Meng Tingjing sat at his left and right, also silent.
He let a few of Haizhou’s more notable bosses vent their complaints until they were practically spitting on the table. Only then did Song Yuzhang raise his hand, pressing lightly into the air. “Everyone, quiet down.”
The crowd waited to hear his solution, and gradually the noise died away.
“The higher-ups want grain requisitioned. This is only natural and rightful. If you’re unhappy, you may volunteer to report to them yourselves—tell them Haizhou’s businessmen only think of themselves and have no sense of duty. If they ask for grain and you have none to give—” Song Yuzhang swept his gaze across the room with a pleasant smile. “Petition letters—I’ve prepared them in advance for each of you.”
He gestured.
Liu Chu, who had been waiting quietly at the side, placed the stack of papers onto the table before him.
Song Yuzhang pulled a fountain pen from his jacket pocket and clicked it sharply against the table—pa! “Come. Who would like to be the first to sign and set an example for everyone?”
The long table fell silent. The men exchanged looks, faces holding barely suppressed irritation.
But nobody dared be the first bird to poke its head out. If the higher-ups really took offense and followed the signatures one by one, at worst Song Yuzhang would be accused of poor organization—but the ones who signed? They would be the ones to suffer.
One after another, people turned their faces away, refusing to look at those blindingly white sheets of paper.
“Very well. Since everyone agrees to the requisition”—he stressed the words lightly—“then I will allocate each portion according to actual circumstances.”
“Chairman Song—!”
Someone raised his hand.
Song Yuzhang gestured slightly. “Please speak.”
“Last year, the former chairman bore half the quota himself. This year… what is your intention?”
Song Yuzhang locked eyes with him and smiled brilliantly. “A new year, a new beginning. Since I’m newly appointed, I can’t fall behind. Let me make my stance clear—this year, I will bear one-tenth.”
The moment he said this, the hall exploded louder than before. Several people slammed the table and stood up.
Meng Tingjing had remained seated, neither trying to make things difficult for Song Yuzhang nor stepping in to help him. Since Song Yuzhang occupied the chair, he should naturally shoulder its responsibilities. If he interfered recklessly, Song Yuzhang might not appreciate it—in fact, the two might end up quarreling again. But seeing several men now stand and kick their chairs aside, spittle flying as they cursed in this direction, Meng Tingjing finally lost his patience and was about to slam the table—A loud BANG! rang out before he moved.
It was Nie Yinbing who had slammed the table.
Nie Yinbing also rose to his feet. Tall and lean, with a harsh, forbidding face, he looked far less like a pampered merchant than a soldier—or worse, a bandit with murderous grit. He glared at the men from the lower seats and said coldly, “Sit down.”
The man pointing at Song Yuzhang flinched instinctively. He swallowed, still holding his finger out, retreating even as he shouted, “Unless we get an explanation today, I’m not leaving!”
“An explanation?” Song Yuzhang replied calmly. “What explanation do you want? The former chairman runs grain shops. I run banks. It’s true he donated grain out of his own pocket. But at the end of last year, who was it that bought up the treasury bonds? Go ask around! Qian Fuli, if you’re not convinced, resign from the Chamber. I welcome it—”
He swept his arm and flung the stack of white papers forward.
They skidded across the polished tabletop with a sharp swish, several pages lifting into the air and brushing across people’s faces.
“If you want to resign, write your application now. I’ll approve it immediately,” Song Yuzhang said coldly. “Liu Chu—make them write here. Until they finish, nobody leaves.”
“Yes, sir.”
Liu Chu had grown taller after the New Year, now a medium-sized boy in a perfectly fitted black suit. He drew the gun at his waist and slapped it onto the table, grinning. “Honored bosses, anyone who wants to quit—do it early.”
Scenes of shouting and arguing were common in the Chamber. But scenes involving guns and knives—this was a first. These men were businessmen; someone immediately protested, “Song Yuzhang, what is this? Are you intimidating us? This is the Chamber—we’re supposed to be civilized and democratic!”
Song Yuzhang gave a mild smile. “Have I not given you two options? If you refuse my leadership, sign and resign. If you accept my leadership, sit and listen to my arrangements. Isn’t that civilized and democratic enough? Or—” He stood, his chair scraping softly behind him. “Would you prefer to sit in this seat instead? Or…” He turned his gaze—and his arm—toward Meng Tingjing. “…do you think Young Master Meng is more suited for this position?”
The man protesting was indeed from the Meng faction. But his objections were not entirely due to factional rivalry. Now that Song Yuzhang had pushed matters in that direction, he panicked, not knowing how to respond, and looked uncertainly toward Meng Tingjing.
That moment of hesitation caused trouble.
The Song faction also slammed tables and shouted. If the Meng faction could point fingers, so could they. One after another, they jabbed fingers at Meng Tingjing, accusing him of inciting trouble for personal gain and disregarding the greater national cause.
A huge moral hat dropped onto his head. Meng Tingjing’s expression neither reddened nor paled, but he cast a sidelong glance at Song Yuzhang.
A few months ago, he had only just shaken off the hat of a blood-sucking capitalist, and now a brand-new one was being stuck onto his head again. He felt both annoyed and amused, and at the same time he thought that Song Yuzhang’s move—four ounces moving a thousand pounds, diverting the trouble elsewhere to force him to take a stand—was truly an impressive tactic.
Meng Tingjing lifted his hand slightly.
This was his first time expressing a stance in the meeting today, and everyone politely quieted down, ready to listen.
“What Chairman Song said, I quite agree with. The authorities want to requisition grain, and that grain is for the war effort. Naturally, we ought to support it. As businessmen, righteousness must come first. Whether it’s minor loyalty or great moral principle, we should uphold it.” Meng Tingjing’s tone shifted. “However, if one chases after the ‘greater principle’ while disregarding the loyalty of those who follow him—Chairman Song, that would chill everyone’s hearts.”
Hearing this, the room echoed with nods. All eyes—and all pressure—fell on Song Yuzhang.
At these words, Song Yuzhang sighed faintly.
“Everyone, though I, Song, run a bank, that doesn’t mean I can freely order the bank’s funds around. If I were running a grain business, I would gladly open my warehouses and offer grain. But alas, even the most capable woman cannot cook without rice. How about this—one-fifth. I’ll shoulder that portion alone. As for the rest, everyone, small duty and great righteousness, I will try to take both into account. What do you think?”
Since Song Yuzhang had been so firm earlier, now that he was willing to yield a little, they couldn’t continue pressing relentlessly. If they pushed further and word got out, people might think they were infighting for the sake of factional struggle, disregarding orders from above. The group hesitated and turned to Meng Tingjing.
Meng Tingjing gave an almost imperceptible nod—his stance made clear.
The grain requisition was tentatively settled. Everyone dispersed, each carrying a bellyful of neither-great-nor-small discontent.
As Song Yuzhang stepped out of the hall, Meng Tingjing walked beside him. “One-fifth—you planned that from the start, didn’t you?”
Song Yuzhang walked briskly. “Say whatever you like.”
“The requisition is an order pressed down from above. You have a favorable wind to borrow. Even if they make noise, they won’t dare disturb the authorities, so they can’t stir up too big a storm. But they’re dissatisfied today. In the future, when conflicts arise, you’ll have no authority left—doesn’t that mean endless trouble?”
By then, Song Yuzhang had reached the car. The driver opened the door for him. With one hand on the doorframe, he turned his head toward Meng Tingjing. “You’re trying to advise me?”
A faint tension tightened Meng Tingjing’s expression. “No matter what I say, do you always find it unpleasant to hear?”
Song Yuzhang stared at him, then suddenly gave a faint smile. “Isn’t there a capable vice-chairman? What’s there to be afraid of?” He lifted his chin toward the person behind Meng Tingjing. “Yinbing, get in.”
Nie Yinbing got into the car. Before he’d even sat properly, Song Yuzhang asked, “Why didn’t you leave with me earlier?”
Nie Yinbing replied, “It’s safer for me to stay behind.”
“You’re afraid he’d lay hands on me?”
“Mm.”
The driver had already started the car. Watching a pale long robe flash past outside the window, Song Yuzhang muttered softly, “He wouldn’t.”
Inside the car, the two continued discussing business. Song Yuzhang criticized Nie Yinbing for acting during the meeting. “Let them make a fuss. They were already holding in a breath of frustration. Even if they didn’t make noise today, they would later. Better to let them vent properly—it gives a clean break.”
“They’re dissatisfied because they think I can’t bring them equal benefits. If I can do that, even if they resist, they’ll eventually concede. Forcing suppression only works for a moment—if it rebounds later, it’ll be worse… Liu Chu!” Song Yuzhang barked sharply at the driver’s assistant in the front seat. “Who told you to draw your gun?”
Liu Chu stuck out his tongue quietly. “I couldn’t hold it in. Won’t dare next time.”
He was quick-witted and admitted fault fast. Even when he made mistakes, Song Yuzhang rarely punished him heavily. Nie Yinbing, on the other hand, was like a sealed-mouth gourd—he neither argued nor apologized, usually only saying “Mm.” Although Song Yuzhang knew that Nie Yinbing surely understood the consequences just as well, he still couldn’t help nagging.
Now that he was chamber of commerce’s chairman, he’d picked up a bad habit—he’d begun enjoying long lectures.
Nie Yinbing was the perfect listener. He answered softly, his gaze clear and focused, gradually slicing Song Yuzhang’s long lecture in half.
Even drunk, Song Yuzhang did not forget that earlier, somewhere in the haze of social drinking, he and Nie Yinbing had seemed a little too close again.
Nie Yinbing likely had the same thought. On maintaining distance, the two shared absolute tacit understanding.
Song Yuzhang would play around with anyone—except Nie Yinbing. Nie Yinbing was the one person he refused to provoke.
“When we see Director Zhang later, no matter what he says, you are not allowed to lose your temper.”
“Mm.”
Song Yuzhang sighed inwardly and changed the subject. “How’s Bornian lately? Is his health alright?”
“Not very.”
Song Yuzhang’s brows lifted. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s been coughing.”
His heart, which had jumped, slowly settled again. “Coughing isn’t a small matter. He should drink some herbal decoctions.”
“He’s still young. Too much medicine isn’t good. Master is giving him nutritional remedies—food therapy—to stop the cough and clear the lungs.”
“Oh, that’s fine too.”
The vehicle stopped before a small, snow-white townhouse. Song Yuzhang stepped out, took a deep breath, and walked inside.
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