Song Yuzhang: Chapter 152 - Live or Die Together
Chapter 152: Live or Die Together
The digging progressed extremely slowly. Eventually, Shen Chengduo also arrived with his men. Seeing the massive pile of rubble, he was immediately terrified and exclaimed, “W-what happened?!”
No one paid him any attention; everyone was focused on the task at hand. Even Meng Sushan was moving chunks of debris piece by piece. Shen Chengduo quickly stopped talking and jumped in to help.
Meng Tingjing, trapped beneath the rubble, struggled to get closer to Song Yuzhang. Sensing his intention, Song Yuzhang said, “Don’t come over, I can’t breathe.”
Meng Tingjing was startled but gripped Song Yuzhang’s hand tightly. “Shift a little outward—you’re suffocating there.”
“It’s about the same,” Song Yuzhang replied.
The ringing in their ears had lessened slightly, and communication became somewhat easier. They could also faintly hear groans from others nearby.
Meng Tingjing ignored everyone else, keeping one hand firmly on Song Yuzhang’s while using the other to push upward with all his strength.
By creating a small gap on his side, Song Yuzhang could feel slightly more comfortable.
“Song Yuzhang.”
“I’m not asleep.”
Satisfied, Meng Tingjing continued using his right shoulder to push the bodies above, and after a while called out Song Yuzhang’s name again—Song Yuzhang immediately responded.
Song Yuzhang’s chest hurt—a deep, pressing pain from the stone overhead. The pain gradually intensified, tolerable at first, but after a while, it surged to the point that he felt like he might vomit blood.
“Song Yuzhang.”
“I…cough…”
Song coughed before replying, “I’m fine…”
Meng Tingjing was silent for a moment, then gripped Song Yuzhang’s injured hand and asked, “Are you coughing up blood?”
Song Yuzhang remained silent. Meng Tingjing pressed him again, and Song Yuzhang squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry, conserve your strength.”
Meng Tingjing calmed down and released Song Yuzhang’s hand. He then inserted his palm into the gap between Song Yuzhang and the bodies, trying to lift the weight off him. It was hopeless; all it did was rub his hand raw.
Song Yuzhang seemed to sense his attempt and moved his hand slightly. “Listen to me. Don’t move, save your strength.”
Meng Tingjing’s hand, surrounded by warm, sticky flesh, gripped Song Yuzhang’s tightly. “Okay, I’ll listen. Don’t move. Don’t worry—Nie Yinbing will come save you…”
Song Yuzhang was slightly stunned. Feeling Meng Tingjing’s firm grip made him almost want to smile. When he did, the pain in his chest seemed to lessen, and warmth welled in his eyes.
“Nie Yinbing will come,” Meng Tingjing repeated firmly. “Don’t panic, breathe slowly.”
Song Yuzhang laughed softly, tears spilling down, and coughed lightly. “Mm, I’m not in a hurry.”
Time dragged on endlessly. The faint groans around them gradually faded. Song Yuzhang had no idea how long had passed—it could have been only moments since the explosion, or much longer.
He could see nothing
He only heard Meng Tingjing calling him repeatedly, and felt only the slowly cooling bodies pressing around him, along with Meng Tingjing’s warm hand.
At one point, thirst overtook him. Blood still lingered in his throat, making him parched. He coughed lightly in response to Meng Tingjing.
Meng Tingjing noticed and said, “Don’t talk.”
“I’m fine,” Song Yuzhang replied.
Meng Tingjing squeezed his hand again. “Move your fingers.”
Song Yuzhang, slow to understand, flexed his fingers to grip Meng Tingjing’s hand.
Time passed in this back-and-forth until Meng Tingjing suddenly said, “I was wrong.”
Song Yuzhang didn’t respond; his throat was dry and sticky, almost unbearable.
“I hated him before,” Meng Tingjing said, his voice rasping, blood tinging his words. “I thought that in such a situation, I could give everything for you. But it’s not him—it’s you who would have died. You were the one in danger…” He took a deep breath, his chest heaving. “I don’t need that chance to prove myself. You just live. Live safely. Argue, fight, hate—just live.”
Song Yuzhang squeezed Meng Tingjing’s fingers. “Stop talking,” he said, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. “I know your heart. Let’s talk later, okay?”
Meng Tingjing gripped his hand tightly. In that moment, he completely understood—without resentment.
Love doesn’t require reciprocation. It’s not about worth or measuring value.
Love is simply this: you are me, I am you.
Song Yuzhang suffers, he suffers double. Song Yuzhang smiles, he rejoices.
Song Yuzhang lives, and so he lives.
Meng Tingjing closed his eyes, tears washing the sticky blood from his face.
If he had to understand the meaning of love at the cost of life, he’d rather have never met Song Yuzhang, letting him live safely and beautifully, unknown in some other place.
After an entire day and night, the rubble above finally shifted. During this, another small explosion occurred, breaking open a corner of the debris and scattering hands and feet. Meng Sushan, standing close, was splattered with blood and dust, stunned, and fearfully ran a few steps back to identify the fallen bodies.
Nie Yinbing didn’t intervene—he firmly believed Song Yuzhang was alive and waiting for rescue.
“Continue digging from the previous blast point.”
“Yes.”
The site was still dangerous, but Nie Yinbing led the effort. Members of the Nie and Meng families followed without fear, digging with all their strength.
Meng Sushan checked the scattered limbs—they weren’t Song Yuzhang or Meng Tingjing—and returned to the lower right, anxiously watching the newly opened hole in the rubble.
The second explosion ironically made digging slightly easier. Soon, several bodies were uncovered.
Nie Yinbing tensed, realizing they had reached the bottom. “Hurry, hold on—”
Corpses were continuously being unearthed, while the Shen family members handled the transportation. Earlier, they had been moving stones and wood; now they carried bodies, some of which still had faint signs of life and were hurriedly placed on stretchers and sent to the hospital.
As more people were dug out, Nie Yinbing’s actions became increasingly frantic. He dropped his iron shovel and began lifting the crushed bodies with his bare hands.
No, not this one… wrong… still not here…
He heaved a body aside, and a bloodied face came into view.
Nie Yinbing froze for two seconds, his mind blank, then immediately shouted.
The family guards on both sides, hearing the commotion, rushed over.
Song Yuzhang’s face was covered in blood—he couldn’t tell whether it was his own or someone else’s. That face was so distinctive that everyone instantly recognized him. They quickly worked together to remove the obstacles and bodies covering him. Nie Yinbing lunged forward and pulled him into his arms. “Yuzhang? Yuzhang?!”
Song Yuzhang swayed in his arms, clearly unconscious. Nie Yinbing’s heart twisted painfully as he lifted him, only to find resistance—Song Yuzhang’s right hand was being gripped by another bloodied hand.
The Meng family guards immediately recognized Meng Tingjing’s sleeve. Shouting “Young Master!” they frantically dug, and Meng Sushan rushed forward upon hearing the shout.
The Meng family quickly uncovered him. Meng Tingjing’s once-white cloud robe was stained deep red; his left hand was tightly clutching Song Yuzhang’s hand.
Meng Sushan let out a wail and rushed forward. The Meng family servants lifted Meng Tingjing up, and only then did Meng Sushan notice his back and right arm were covered in blood—she couldn’t hold herself and fainted.
The Meng family panicked. Some held the young lady, while others tried to pry Meng Tingjing’s hand open. But he clutched so tightly that his fingers were blackened and stiff, practically fused to Song Yuzhang’s hand.
“Don’t separate them,” Nie Yinbing said coldly to the Meng family. “Move them together.”
Two days later, Song Yuzhang woke in the hospital. Opening his eyes, he saw Nie Yinbing standing vigilantly beside him and blinked uncertainly. “Yinbing?”
Nie Yinbing had already stood up and pressed the call button for a doctor.
Considering the explosion, Song Yuzhang’s injuries were not too severe: two broken ribs, a mild concussion, and multiple superficial wounds. Overall, his hands and feet were intact, and he was alive—a small mercy amid misfortune. The coughing up of blood was due to the broken ribs piercing his lung, but it was not life-threatening; otherwise, he would have died instantly.
During the examination, Song Yuzhang asked, “What about Tingjing?”
“He’s more severely injured,” Nie Yinbing replied. “But he’s alive too.”
Song Yuzhang exhaled, the motion jabbing his lungs painfully. “Where is he hurt?”
“Burns on the back and arms, right hand severed, right shoulder cracked, left arm fractured, three broken ribs, the rest are superficial injuries.”
Song Yuzhang remained silent for a long while. After the doctor left, he asked, “Is he staying here too? I want to see him.”
“He’s on the same floor. I can push you over to him if you want.”
Since waking, Song Yuzhang had noticed Nie Yinbing’s unusual calm. He didn’t think much of it—he just wanted to see Meng Tingjing for a moment, to feel slightly reassured. After all, they had shared life and death…
Nie Yinbing fetched a wheelchair and pushed Song Yuzhang out of the room. A few steps toward Meng Tingjing’s room, they heard a commotion.
“It’s just a few broken bones, nothing serious. I’ve got a tough constitution, don’t worry about me.”
Meng Tingjing’s hands were fully bandaged, his body wrapped tightly from burns, his face scratched—a mummy-like image. Yet even gravely injured, he radiated authority. Taking advantage of Meng Sushe’s absence, he forced the family guards to push him in a wheelchair.
Although Song Yuzhang was said to be fine, Meng Tingjing didn’t trust it without seeing him himself.
The guards, though afraid, had no choice but to push him. “Young Master, just a quick look. The young lady’s watching; we can’t afford to let her get mad.”
“What’s there to be afraid of? She won’t harm you.”
Meng Tingjing said, voice pained but steady.
As the wheelchair rolled out, Meng Tingjing squinted against the pain and spotted Song Yuzhang being pushed closer by Nie Yinbing.
He stared blankly, motionless, until Song Yuzhang reached him.
Seeing Meng Tingjing in his mummy-like state, Song Yuzhang said, “With injuries like that, behave yourself.” He instructed the Meng family guards, “Push him back.”
The guards obeyed at once. Meng Tingjing’s gaze remained locked on Song Yuzhang, following him in a full circle as the wheelchair moved. Once inside the room, he smiled unconsciously, and all the pain seemed to vanish.
Song Yuzhang said, “Let’s go. I’m returning too.”
Nie Yinbing silently pushed him back to the room, but his mind kept replaying the scene of pulling Song Yuzhang out of the rubble.
Amid the mountain of corpses and blood, Song Yuzhang and Meng Tingjing clinging to each other’s hands.
Nie Yinbing looked down at Song Yuzhang, whose face carried a faint, gentle, reassuring smile.
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