Song Yuzhang: Chapter 143 - Factory
Chapter 143: Factory
Director Zhang himself didn’t actually hold a very high post. Strictly speaking, he ranked several levels below Liao Tiandong. Yet Liao Tiandong treated him with conspicuous courtesy and respect. Differences in departmental authority sometimes outweighed differences in official rank. This time, with Director Zhang’s arrival in Haizhou, Liao Tiandong was cautious in every respect. Aside from brazenly calling him “Old Zhang,” there was nothing he dared overstep.
“So this Song Yuzhang—is he really as capable as you say?”
“Would I lie to you? The railway and the government bonds—just those two things alone—could any ordinary person have pulled them off?”
Director Zhang said, “Being too capable isn’t necessarily a good thing.”
“That won’t be an issue. His temperament is good—you’ll see once you meet him.”
Director Zhang’s temper was average at best. Having sat in his position for so long, his disposition had naturally grown rather sinister and harsh.
When Song Yuzhang entered, Director Zhang was holding a teacup, blowing away the steam. He looked up—and into his field of vision stepped a handsome, beautiful man beyond description. For a moment, he was completely stunned.
“Director Zhang.”
Song Yuzhang bowed politely.
Director Zhang was still holding the teacup, eyes fixed, not knowing what to say.
Before coming, Song Yuzhang had heard from Liao Tiandong that this Director Zhang had certain “minor quirks”—a particular fondness for handsome men. As for just how far that fondness went, even Liao Tiandong couldn’t say. Song Yuzhang had made a bit of mental preparation. In any case, with his current status, beauty was no more than an ornament.
Director Zhang quickly came back to himself, set down the teacup, and said with surprise and admiration, “This must be Chairman Song?”
Song Yuzhang lifted his face and smiled lightly. “It’s our first meeting. I failed to prepare a gift—my apologies.”
“Ah—no need for such formality, no need at all.”
After looking at Song Yuzhang several more times as if admiring a painting, Director Zhang finally shifted his gaze to the man just behind Song Yuzhang on the left. Another handsome man—but the impact was far less than Song Yuzhang’s stunning first impression. Still, Director Zhang felt a faint sense of familiarity.
“And this gentleman is…?”
“Nie Yinbing,” Nie Yinbing answered himself.
Director Zhang thought for a moment, then his eyes widened. “Class of ’33, Army Academy?”
Nie Yinbing was slightly startled. “Yes.”
“Cavalry division?”
“Yes.”
Director Zhang stood up and strode over, slapping Nie Yinbing hard on the shoulder. “Zhang Changyuan is my younger brother!”
Nie Yinbing’s memory immediately snapped into place—the classmate who constantly swore under his breath. “Zhao Zilong?”
“Haha!” Director Zhang’s gloomy expression vanished as he laughed, showing two rows of teeth. “That little bastard—always talking nonsense about me out there!”
Director Zhang’s real name was Zhang Changshan. He had a biological younger brother, Zhang Changyuan, with a considerable age gap between them. Zhang Changshan doted on his brother like the apple of his eye. The apple of his eye, however, found him annoying and ran off to officer school to suffer. Zhang Changshan had been heartbroken.
After Zhang Changyuan graduated, Zhang Changshan had practically threatened to die to force him into a cushy post in the army, forbidding him from actually going to the battlefield to get himself killed. Zhang Changyuan’s experience was strikingly similar to Nie Yinbing’s, and the two had always gotten along well. A photograph taken when they graduated together was displayed in Zhang Changyuan’s home. Because Zhang Changshan often went into the room to tidy up while missing his brother, he gradually memorized Nie Yinbing’s face.
“Changyuan mentioned you,” Zhang Changshan said. “Said his best friend at school—top of the class, too—had an elder brother who kept a tight rein and wouldn’t let him go to the battlefield. That was you, wasn’t it?”
He laughed and patted Nie Yinbing’s shoulder again, clearly feeling a sense of kindred spirit with that elder brother. “Your brother’s doing well, right?”
Liao Tiandong hurried to smooth things over. “So you’re all old acquaintances—that’s wonderful. No need for introductions, then. Let’s sit and talk. I’ll have the kitchen serve the meal.”
Zhang Changshan was a shrewd man. He immediately realized he’d asked the wrong question. These days, many things were difficult—but nothing was easier than people dying. He withdrew his hand, kept a faint smile on his face, and when he looked at Song Yuzhang again, his expression was noticeably more proper. “Then let’s sit and talk.”
Liao Tiandong led the three of them into the dining room and seated them. As soon as Zhang Changshan sat down, he asked Nie Yinbing, “Did Changyuan ever get bullied at school? That kid never tells me anything—tell me.”
“If he didn’t say it,” Nie Yinbing replied, “then neither can I.”
Liao Tiandong froze mid-motion, giving Nie Yinbing a look of indescribable complexity.
Nie Yinbing sat down calmly. Song Yuzhang sat beside him and pressed a hand lightly against his thigh. Nie Yinbing looked over; Song Yuzhang’s gaze was placid. Nie Yinbing turned his face away, lowered his head, and fell silent.
“Haha,” Zhang Changshan laughed, breaking the slight stiffness in the air, and slapped Nie Yinbing’s shoulder again. “Good lad—worthy of being Changyuan’s good brother.”
Liao Tiandong joined in the laughter. “Nowadays, even in business, people still talk about righteousness.”
“Indeed. No matter what you do, righteousness comes first—that’s the most important thing,” Zhang Changshan said with a smile.
Song Yuzhang smiled. “What a coincidence. This morning at the Chamber of Commerce, everyone was also discussing what counts as greater righteousness and what as lesser righteousness.”
“Oh?”
Zhang Changshan put on an interested expression. Light flickered in his eyes, revealing a hint of probing menace.
“Just some shallow banter—not worth dirtying Director Zhang’s ears,” Song Yuzhang said.
Zhang Changshan waved his hand, smiling. “A bit of idle talk—nothing I can’t hear. Chairman Song, please go on.”
“Let’s eat first, let’s eat first,” Liao Tiandong interjected in time. “Chairman Song’s been busy at the Chamber all morning—he must be hungry.”
Song Yuzhang nodded. “I’ve been hungry all this time, just waiting for Director Liao to treat us.”
“Listen to that—listen to that,” Liao Tiandong laughed loudly at Zhang Changshan. “He’s been waiting right here.”
Zhang Changshan patted his shoulder. “Everyone knows you’re a big spender,” he said, drawing a circle under the table with his hand. “We’re all waiting to eat off the rich man.”
Liao Tiandong’s heart skipped a beat, but he laughed. “I apologize for any poor hospitality.”
The food and wine were excellent. Zhang Changshan ate boldly, every remark sounding casual yet carrying hidden meaning. Cold sweat trickled down Liao Tiandong’s back as he stole glances at Song Yuzhang—only to see him calm and fluent in response. It was hard to tell whether Song Yuzhang was genuinely bold or simply fearless through ignorance.
By the end of the banquet, everything looked, on the surface, like a harmonious gathering of host and guests. Song Yuzhang hadn’t drunk much; he wasn’t drunk at all. There was serious business to discuss today, and he needed to stay perfectly clear-headed.
Zhang Changshan looked like anything but a “kind soul.” Despite his slight acquaintance with Nie Yinbing, Song Yuzhang remained highly vigilant.
When the wine had warmed the ears and loosened the tongue, Zhang Changshan undid two buttons of his collar, held his wine cup in one hand, and pressed the table with the other, smiling faintly at Song Yuzhang. “Chairman Song—before the meal, you mentioned lesser righteousness and greater righteousness. Tell me about it,” he said, tapping the table with his finger. “I’ll arbitrate the case for you.”
“Calling it an adjudication would be overstating it.”
Song Yuzhang wasn’t drunk, though a faint flush had crept onto his face. He undid two buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves as well, making himself look more casual. That way, whatever he said would sound like nothing more than idle table talk over drinks—even if he misspoke once or twice, it wouldn’t matter.
“I only took over as chairman of the Chamber of Commerce this year. People say a new official lights three fires upon taking office—I haven’t even lit mine yet, and they’ve already got me with flames licking at my eyebrows.”
Zhang Changshan chuckled.
“Last year’s harvest was poor. To be frank, this round of grain requisition met with no small amount of resistance.”
“Oh?” Zhang Changshan was still smiling. “They’re unwilling to donate grain?”
“Some of them aren’t very eager,” Song Yuzhang said with a smile.
“Who?” Zhang Changshan waved his hand broadly. “Tell me. I’ll pay them a visit myself and help persuade them.”
Song Yuzhang waved him off. “No need to trouble you. Later, I debated it with them—over this very issue of greater righteousness versus lesser righteousness.”
“Right—greater and lesser righteousness. Let’s hear it,” Zhang Changshan said with interest.
“I told them that donating grain to support the war is a matter of greater righteousness. Even if one is under financial strain, one should first fulfill that greater duty. As for lesser righteousness, that’s what I, as chairman, owe to them. If they’re facing difficulties, I ought to offer more assistance. In truth, they weren’t wrong either—being chairman, I should indeed take both into account.”
Zhang Changshan nodded. “When one holds a position, one must fulfill its responsibilities. Chairman Song, you’ve had it hard.”
“If Director Zhang thinks I’ve had it hard, then I’ll be bold and truly ask you for some help.”
Zhang Changshan smiled, raised his wineglass, and took a large sip of red wine. When he set the glass down, the wine gleamed crimson like blood. He assumed an air of keen interest. “Go on.”
Song Yuzhang looked at Zhang Changshan with gentle eyes. “Director Zhang, I want to build an arms factory in Haizhou.”
Zhang Changshan’s gaze flashed like lightning. His moustache lifted with his smile as his wrist flicked—and the red wine splashed out in an instant.
Song Yuzhang was drenched, head and face, in wine. He didn’t move at all; only his eyelashes trembled slightly.
“Utterly ignorant of the immensity of heaven and earth,” Zhang Changshan said calmly. “What do you think you are, to dare spout such outlandish nonsense?”
Song Yuzhang blinked, thick drops of wine clinging to his lashes and dripping down. He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket—already stained with wine—and wiped his face unhurriedly. His voice remained gentle. “Haizhou will have rail access by next year. The region is rich in mineral resources and full of capable people—ideal conditions for building an arms factory. If it’s completed, it would be an even greater act of righteousness for Haizhou than donating grain. I, personally, am nothing worth mentioning; I’m only speaking on behalf of Haizhou’s merchants, seeking to carry out this greater righteousness.”
Zhang Changshan said nothing. Only after Song Yuzhang had wiped his face clean did he smile faintly. “Good. Only one who carries great righteousness in his heart can be master of a city. You’re a fine one.”
The words were ambiguous. Zhang Changshan said no more. After drinking a few more cups, he claimed to be a bit drunk and ready to leave. He stood up, patted each of them in turn, told them not to see him off, and swept his hawk-like gaze over Song Yuzhang’s face. Smiling without a word, he departed.
Once he was gone, Liao Tiandong collapsed weakly back into his chair and pointed at Song Yuzhang. “Chairman Song, accompanying you for this drink today is going to cost me three years of my life.”
Song Yuzhang slowly let out a breath. “Director Liao, rest assured—I won’t let your efforts be for nothing.”
Liao Tiandong shook his head. “Suffering—pure suffering. Next time I can’t serve as host anymore. You’ll have to handle it yourself.”
“Yes. You’ve already put me in touch—what happens next depends entirely on my own fortune.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Liao Tiandong glanced over. Song Yuzhang’s expression was steady as a mountain, calm with a trace of a smile, betraying not the slightest hint of emotion. Liao Tiandong felt genuine admiration, thinking that if Song Yuzhang were to make his way in officialdom, he would surely rise very high.
After leaving the banquet, it was only once Song Yuzhang was in the car that he took out his handkerchief again and wiped the sweat from his temples. As he was doing so, another handkerchief was offered to him.
Song Yuzhang didn’t bother to say thanks. He took Nie Yinbing’s handkerchief and wiped from his temples down to his neck. “You did well just now—not losing your temper with Zhang Changshan.”
Nie Yinbing lowered his eyes. “I wouldn’t ruin your plans.”
Song Yuzhang smiled. “Then I underestimated you.”
After wiping the sweat from his neck, Song Yuzhang said quietly, “Zhang Changshan has a good impression of you. One doesn’t strike a smiling face. Over the next few days, accompany me to pay him more visits. Since he didn’t reject us outright today, his attitude must be softening—but he’ll still test us further. People like him are extremely suspicious. To earn his trust takes extra effort. You don’t need to say much… forget it, say whatever you want. He seems able to take even unpleasant truths rather well—” As he was speaking, the tips of his hair were gently flicked.
“It’s wet.”
Nie Yinbing said, meeting Song Yuzhang’s gaze.
Song Yuzhang looked into his eyes—deep as bedrock, hard yet gentle. He sighed softly in his heart and said, “It’s fine.”
Nie Yinbing’s hand dropped.
He felt a little pained—by his own lack of strength.
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