Song Yuzhang: Chapter 157 - Torment
Chapter 157: Torment
Fu Mian had grown taller, darker, and more powerfully built. Apart from the contours of his face, Song Yuzhang could almost no longer recognize the fair-skinned, beautiful, pitifully adorable Young Master Fu he once knew.
Blood from Liu Chu was still flowing across Song Yuzhang’s face as he softly said, “A-Mian.”
“Don’t call me that.” Fu Mian yanked him upright. The smile on his face was gentle, almost tender. “It’s disgusting.”
Servants dressed in black dragged several corpses out of the forest and tossed them onto the ground, strewing them in disordered heaps. They then hauled Song Yuzhang’s attendants to the center as well, raised their guns, and fired several more shots into their bodies.
“Master, it’s all taken care of.”
“Bring him down.”
“Yes.”
Fu family servants lifted a tightly bound man out of the trunk of a car.
His mouth was gagged. The moment he saw daylight, he let out muffled cries of terror. He was shoved in front of Song Yuzhang and Fu Mian. Song Yuzhang looked at him in astonishment—he bore a striking resemblance to him, at least five parts out of ten in facial structure.
The man clearly realized it, too. His eyes widened as he stared at Song Yuzhang, then tears streamed down his face as he desperately tried to drop to his knees to beg for mercy.
“Finding this kind of thing took me quite a bit of effort,” Fu Mian said, grabbing Song Yuzhang by the hair and leaning close to his ear, warm breath brushing against it. “Doesn’t he look like you?”
Song Yuzhang said nothing. Since calling him “A-Mian” once, he had remained silent.
Fu Mian flicked his gun.
The servants tore the cloth from the man’s mouth.
“Master Fu, spare me, Master Fu, please spare me…”
“Enough,” Fu Mian said. “Take off your clothes.”
The man froze. “N-now?”
“Yes.” Fu Mian smiled at him. “Now. Take them off. All of them.”
For the sake of his life, the man didn’t dare hesitate. Once his bindings were loosened, he trembled as he stripped, inside and out, until he was completely naked.
“Still not the same,” Fu Mian said softly near Song Yuzhang’s ear, nudging him with the gun. “He’s not as fair as you. Not as delicate.”
Song Yuzhang closed his eyes lightly. “What do you want to do?”
“You have to strip, too.”
“Everything. Take it all off.”
Song Yuzhang glanced at Fu Mian. Fu Mian’s phoenix eyes were beautiful, stark black and white, cold and deep as still water. “If you don’t want to, I can help you myself.”
Song Yuzhang was pushed into a car.
Fu Mian gave him three minutes.
Inside the car, Song Yuzhang sat dazed.
Fu Mian… Fu Mian… How could it be Fu Mian… How could it really be him…
Someone knocked on the door. Song Yuzhang turned his head. Through the window, Fu Mian shook the gun at him. “Don’t waste time.”
Song Yuzhang untied his tie.
For a full year, he had been Fifth Master Song, impeccably dressed in fine, luxurious clothing. Fu Mian watched him strip down to nothing, taking every single piece of clothing, even the diamond cufflinks.
“Put them on.”
Fu Mian pointed his gun at the shivering man outside.
As Song Yuzhang watched that man put on his clothes, he suddenly understood what Fu Mian intended to do. His gaze slid over the man’s shoulder, and his heart went cold again—there was a gunshot wound on that shoulder as well.
“M-Master Fu, please, spare me. I-I didn’t do anything…”
Bang.
Without a second’s hesitation, Fu Mian blew a hole straight through the man’s face.
He opened the car door and climbed in, smiling at Song Yuzhang as he rolled his shoulders. “I’ve wanted to smash that face of his for a long time.” His eyes swept over Song Yuzhang’s naked body. “You haven’t gotten thinner. Still plenty of flesh.”
Song Yuzhang knew he had truly fallen into a trap this time. Unlike what happened with Nie Yinbing, Fu Mian had clearly known his whereabouts all along, endured patiently, waited until he left Haizhou, then struck—everything arranged flawlessly.
This was bad. Truly bad.
Just how bad, Song Yuzhang still couldn’t imagine—or perhaps didn’t dare to.
The stench of gasoline seeped through the car windows, sharp enough to sting his nose. The corpses and the vehicles had all been doused in fuel, especially the man who looked like him—they had practically washed his face with gasoline.
What Fu Mian intended to do was now perfectly clear.
A cigarette was tossed in. In an instant, flames surged sky-high. Naked, sitting inside the car, Song Yuzhang broke out in sweat under the scorching heat outside. Fu Mian gently brushed the sweat from his cheek, speaking with affection: “Zhu Qing, look how miserably you died. Your face is burned beyond recognition. Poor thing.”
Song Yuzhang sat quietly. “A-Mian…”
His hair was yanked, his face forced down into the leather seat, mouth and nose pressed tight against the hide, suffocating. He heard Fu Mian say, “You never learn. I told you not to call me that.”
Song Yuzhang was nearly blacking out before being dragged upright again. The hot muzzle of a gun pressed against his throat. “Zhu Qing, my darling,” Fu Mian said softly. “You’d better behave and not provoke me. I wouldn’t mind turning you into a mute.”
Song Yuzhang said nothing.
He had always been very good at reading the situation.
Fu Mian had changed. He was no longer the spoiled, willful, innocent young master who once wanted to marry him.
The Lincoln sped away. Someone stayed behind to erase the tire tracks. Song Yuzhang heard an explosion—perhaps the car had been blown up.
Liu Chu… A chill seized Song Yuzhang’s heart, and his body trembled with it.
Fu Mian was holding him. Seeing him shake, he laughed and pulled him onto his lap. “Cold?”
The gun barrel, once scalding, had cooled. Fu Mian toyed with it against Song Yuzhang’s chest, tracing back and forth. Suddenly, the muzzle dipped downward and fired straight into Song Yuzhang’s calf.
Song Yuzhang let out a muffled groan, his body shuddering violently from the sudden, searing pain.
Fu Mian pressed the still-hot muzzle of the gun against Song Yuzhang’s waist, his voice very gentle. “So you do know that you get cold when you don’t wear clothes?”
Song Yuzhang trembled as he clutched the wound in his calf. Blood seeped through his fingers. In a low voice, he said, “If I’ve fallen into your hands, I have nothing to say. If you hate me, then just kill me.”
The muzzle pressed harder into his waist. Compared with the pain in his calf, the heat there hardly mattered at all.
“Want to die? It’s not that easy.”
Fu Mian pinched Song Yuzhang’s cheek and locked eyes with him, light flickering in his gaze. “Zhu Qing, I went to so much trouble to get you into my hands—how could I bear to kill you?”
“Do you know how hard I had to endure, watching that face swagger around in front of me? Sometimes I really wanted to hang him up and whip him hard, or cut a piece of flesh off him with a knife—but I couldn’t…” Fu Mian released him, the back of his hand lightly stroking Song Yuzhang’s pale, soft body. “You’re so flawless. He couldn’t be allowed to keep scars he shouldn’t have.”
Song Yuzhang pressed his wound, feeling the blood flow leave his body cold. The itch deep in his lungs made him cough.
Fu Mian continued to caress him, then lowered his head and gently kissed the scar on his shoulder. “Fortunately, you’ve come back to me again.” He lifted his face and looked at Song Yuzhang, whose complexion was growing paler. “So I can fulfill, one by one, all those beautiful fantasies I had about you.”
Song Yuzhang coughed again and said softly, “The prescription—I didn’t really give it to Tang Jin.”
“I know,” Fu Mian said mildly. “That’s what he said before he died, too. When people are about to die, their words are kind—so I believed him.”
For a moment, Song Yuzhang’s mind went blank.
Tang Jin was dead.
Fu Mian smiled. “He said you went to East City. I turned the East City upside down and still couldn’t find you. I was furious, so I cut off his hands and feet. He said he hadn’t lied to me—it was you who lied to him.”
Song Yuzhang looked at Fu Mian. “He didn’t lie. I lied to him.”
“I know,” Fu Mian smiled. “But I still wanted him dead.”
He pulled Song Yuzhang back into his arms, his palm pressing over the hand that was holding the wound. Song Yuzhang’s blood clung sticky and warm to his palm. Fu Mian said calmly, “Every time I saw him, I was reminded that I’d once been just as stupid as he was. It was unbearable.”
“Zhu Qing, look—I can actually be very smart. I just wanted to be a fool in front of you, so you’d cherish me a little more…”
His fingers plunged into the bloody hole in Song Yuzhang’s leg, stirring it. The pain was piercing. Song Yuzhang clenched his teeth and endured it, hearing Fu Mian’s voice grow lighter—and colder. “But you actually treated me like a fool!”
The pain disappeared because Song Yuzhang finally lost consciousness.
When he woke again, he was still in the car. His leg wound had been bandaged, a black cloak draped over him as he lay curled up inside. Outside the pitch-dark car, orange firelight from a campfire flickered.
The door was pulled open, and Song Yuzhang saw Fu Mian.
His cheeks were pinched as a canteen was brought to his mouth. Water poured in, choking him until his mouth and nose were full, his nasal passages burning. He clutched the black cloak and coughed violently, almost coughing his lungs out.
When he finally calmed down, Fu Mian tilted his hand and poured the entire canteen of water over Song Yuzhang’s face. Song Yuzhang closed his eyes and breathed shallowly.
Fu Mian patted his cheek twice. “Zhu Qing, look how useless you are now—you can’t even drink water properly.”
Song Yuzhang said nothing, only coughed violently again.
He coughed so hard that his pale face flushed red, his injured leg twitching with it. Fu Mian watched coldly for a while, then hauled him upright.
Song Yuzhang was burning with fever. Fu Mian held him in his arms and took a tiny pill from a pouch close to his body, feeding it to him.
The pill was extremely bitter and melted instantly. Song Yuzhang’s whole face scrunched up from the taste.
Fu Mian laughed and patted his face. “Who told you to spill all the water just now? Serves you right—let it be bitter.” His tone was intimate, but it sent a chill through Song Yuzhang.
Fu Mian pushed him back down into the seat, slipping a hand beneath the cloak to touch his injured calf. “We have to hurry. We can’t let you turn into a little cripple.” He slapped the bandage on Song Yuzhang’s leg, drawing a muffled groan from him. “That wouldn’t be pretty.”
Fine beads of sweat appeared on Song Yuzhang’s forehead. “What exactly do you want?”
Fu Mian chuckled softly. “Silly. What else could I want? Of course, I’m taking you to elope with me.”
After a full day and night of jolting travel, Song Yuzhang hardly left the car at all—except to relieve himself. Fu Mian pushed him out, making him hobble barefoot to a secluded spot. Watching him, Fu Mian suddenly smiled. “How did I never notice before—you actually don’t have much hair.”
Song Yuzhang said nothing.
Fu Mian pulled out a short knife and advanced step by step. Song Yuzhang neither dodged nor resisted. Fu Mian teased him with the blade and smiled. “Back then, I loved you so much—sneaking into your room in the dead of night, begging you to fuck me.”
Fu Mian had grown taller, darker, and more powerfully built. Apart from the contours of his face, Song Yuzhang could almost no longer recognize the fair-skinned, beautiful, pitifully adorable Young Master Fu he once knew.
Blood from Liu Chu was still flowing across Song Yuzhang’s face as he softly said, “A-Mian.”
“Don’t call me that.” Fu Mian yanked him upright. The smile on his face was gentle, almost tender. “It’s disgusting.”
Servants dressed in black dragged several corpses out of the forest and tossed them onto the ground, strewing them in disordered heaps. They then hauled Song Yuzhang’s attendants to the center as well, raised their guns, and fired several more shots into their bodies.
“Master, it’s all taken care of.”
“Bring him down.”
“Yes.”
Fu family servants lifted a tightly bound man out of the trunk of a car.
His mouth was gagged. The moment he saw daylight, he let out muffled cries of terror. He was shoved in front of Song Yuzhang and Fu Mian. Song Yuzhang looked at him in astonishment—he bore a striking resemblance to him, at least five parts out of ten in facial structure.
The man clearly realized it, too. His eyes widened as he stared at Song Yuzhang, then tears streamed down his face as he desperately tried to drop to his knees to beg for mercy.
“Finding this kind of thing took me quite a bit of effort,” Fu Mian said, grabbing Song Yuzhang by the hair and leaning close to his ear, warm breath brushing against it. “Doesn’t he look like you?”
Song Yuzhang said nothing. Since calling him “A-Mian” once, he had remained silent.
Fu Mian flicked his gun.
The servants tore the cloth from the man’s mouth.
“Master Fu, spare me, Master Fu, please spare me…”
“Enough,” Fu Mian said. “Take off your clothes.”
The man froze. “N-now?”
“Yes.” Fu Mian smiled at him. “Now. Take them off. All of them.”
For the sake of his life, the man didn’t dare hesitate. Once his bindings were loosened, he trembled as he stripped, inside and out, until he was completely naked.
“Still not the same,” Fu Mian said softly near Song Yuzhang’s ear, nudging him with the gun. “He’s not as fair as you. Not as delicate.”
Song Yuzhang closed his eyes lightly. “What do you want to do?”
“You have to strip, too.”
“Everything. Take it all off.”
Song Yuzhang glanced at Fu Mian. Fu Mian’s phoenix eyes were beautiful, stark black and white, cold and deep as still water. “If you don’t want to, I can help you myself.”
Song Yuzhang was pushed into a car.
Fu Mian gave him three minutes.
Inside the car, Song Yuzhang sat dazed.
Fu Mian… Fu Mian… How could it be Fu Mian… How could it really be him…
Someone knocked on the door. Song Yuzhang turned his head. Through the window, Fu Mian shook the gun at him. “Don’t waste time.”
Song Yuzhang untied his tie.
For a full year, he had been Fifth Master Song, impeccably dressed in fine, luxurious clothing. Fu Mian watched him strip down to nothing, taking every single piece of clothing, even the diamond cufflinks.
“Put them on.”
Fu Mian pointed his gun at the shivering man outside.
As Song Yuzhang watched that man put on his clothes, he suddenly understood what Fu Mian intended to do. His gaze slid over the man’s shoulder, and his heart went cold again—there was a gunshot wound on that shoulder as well.
“M-Master Fu, please, spare me. I-I didn’t do anything…”
Bang.
Without a second’s hesitation, Fu Mian blew a hole straight through the man’s face.
He opened the car door and climbed in, smiling at Song Yuzhang as he rolled his shoulders. “I’ve wanted to smash that face of his for a long time.” His eyes swept over Song Yuzhang’s naked body. “You haven’t gotten thinner. Still plenty of flesh.”
Song Yuzhang knew he had truly fallen into a trap this time. Unlike what happened with Nie Yinbing, Fu Mian had clearly known his whereabouts all along, endured patiently, waited until he left Haizhou, then struck—everything arranged flawlessly.
This was bad. Truly bad.
Just how bad, Song Yuzhang still couldn’t imagine—or perhaps didn’t dare to.
The stench of gasoline seeped through the car windows, sharp enough to sting his nose. The corpses and the vehicles had all been doused in fuel, especially the man who looked like him—they had practically washed his face with gasoline.
What Fu Mian intended to do was now perfectly clear.
A cigarette was tossed in. In an instant, flames surged sky-high. Naked, sitting inside the car, Song Yuzhang broke out in sweat under the scorching heat outside. Fu Mian gently brushed the sweat from his cheek, speaking with affection: “Zhu Qing, look how miserably you died. Your face is burned beyond recognition. Poor thing.”
Song Yuzhang sat quietly. “A-Mian…”
His hair was yanked, his face forced down into the leather seat, mouth and nose pressed tight against the hide, suffocating. He heard Fu Mian say, “You never learn. I told you not to call me that.”
Song Yuzhang was nearly blacking out before being dragged upright again. The hot muzzle of a gun pressed against his throat. “Zhu Qing, my darling,” Fu Mian said softly. “You’d better behave and not provoke me. I wouldn’t mind turning you into a mute.”
Song Yuzhang said nothing.
He had always been very good at reading the situation.
Fu Mian had changed. He was no longer the spoiled, willful, innocent young master who once wanted to marry him.
The Lincoln sped away. Someone stayed behind to erase the tire tracks. Song Yuzhang heard an explosion—perhaps the car had been blown up.
Liu Chu… A chill seized Song Yuzhang’s heart, and his body trembled with it.
Fu Mian was holding him. Seeing him shake, he laughed and pulled him onto his lap. “Cold?”
The gun barrel, once scalding, had cooled. Fu Mian toyed with it against Song Yuzhang’s chest, tracing back and forth. Suddenly, the muzzle dipped downward and fired straight into Song Yuzhang’s calf.
Song Yuzhang let out a muffled groan, his body shuddering violently from the sudden, searing pain.
Fu Mian pressed the still-hot muzzle of the gun against Song Yuzhang’s waist, his voice very gentle. “So you do know that you get cold when you don’t wear clothes?”
Song Yuzhang trembled as he clutched the wound in his calf. Blood seeped through his fingers. In a low voice, he said, “If I’ve fallen into your hands, I have nothing to say. If you hate me, then just kill me.”
The muzzle pressed harder into his waist. Compared with the pain in his calf, the heat there hardly mattered at all.
“Want to die? It’s not that easy.”
Fu Mian pinched Song Yuzhang’s cheek and locked eyes with him, light flickering in his gaze. “Zhu Qing, I went to so much trouble to get you into my hands—how could I bear to kill you?”
“Do you know how hard I had to endure, watching that face swagger around in front of me? Sometimes I really wanted to hang him up and whip him hard, or cut a piece of flesh off him with a knife—but I couldn’t…” Fu Mian released him, the back of his hand lightly stroking Song Yuzhang’s pale, soft body. “You’re so flawless. He couldn’t be allowed to keep scars he shouldn’t have.”
Song Yuzhang pressed his wound, feeling the blood flow leave his body cold. The itch deep in his lungs made him cough.
Fu Mian continued to caress him, then lowered his head and gently kissed the scar on his shoulder. “Fortunately, you’ve come back to me again.” He lifted his face and looked at Song Yuzhang, whose complexion was growing paler. “So I can fulfill, one by one, all those beautiful fantasies I had about you.”
Song Yuzhang coughed again and said softly, “The prescription—I didn’t really give it to Tang Jin.”
“I know,” Fu Mian said mildly. “That’s what he said before he died, too. When people are about to die, their words are kind—so I believed him.”
For a moment, Song Yuzhang’s mind went blank.
Tang Jin was dead.
Fu Mian smiled. “He said you went to East City. I turned the East City upside down and still couldn’t find you. I was furious, so I cut off his hands and feet. He said he hadn’t lied to me—it was you who lied to him.”
Song Yuzhang looked at Fu Mian. “He didn’t lie. I lied to him.”
“I know,” Fu Mian smiled. “But I still wanted him dead.”
He pulled Song Yuzhang back into his arms, his palm pressing over the hand that was holding the wound. Song Yuzhang’s blood clung sticky and warm to his palm. Fu Mian said calmly, “Every time I saw him, I was reminded that I’d once been just as stupid as he was. It was unbearable.”
“Zhu Qing, look—I can actually be very smart. I just wanted to be a fool in front of you, so you’d cherish me a little more…”
His fingers plunged into the bloody hole in Song Yuzhang’s leg, stirring it. The pain was piercing. Song Yuzhang clenched his teeth and endured it, hearing Fu Mian’s voice grow lighter—and colder. “But you actually treated me like a fool!”
The pain disappeared because Song Yuzhang finally lost consciousness.
When he woke again, he was still in the car. His leg wound had been bandaged, a black cloak draped over him as he lay curled up inside. Outside the pitch-dark car, orange firelight from a campfire flickered.
The door was pulled open, and Song Yuzhang saw Fu Mian.
His cheeks were pinched as a canteen was brought to his mouth. Water poured in, choking him until his mouth and nose were full, his nasal passages burning. He clutched the black cloak and coughed violently, almost coughing his lungs out.
When he finally calmed down, Fu Mian tilted his hand and poured the entire canteen of water over Song Yuzhang’s face. Song Yuzhang closed his eyes and breathed shallowly.
Fu Mian patted his cheek twice. “Zhu Qing, look how useless you are now—you can’t even drink water properly.”
Song Yuzhang said nothing, only coughed violently again.
He coughed so hard that his pale face flushed red, his injured leg twitching with it. Fu Mian watched coldly for a while, then hauled him upright.
Song Yuzhang was burning with fever. Fu Mian held him in his arms and took a tiny pill from a pouch close to his body, feeding it to him.
The pill was extremely bitter and melted instantly. Song Yuzhang’s whole face scrunched up from the taste.
Fu Mian laughed and patted his face. “Who told you to spill all the water just now? Serves you right—let it be bitter.” His tone was intimate, but it sent a chill through Song Yuzhang.
Fu Mian pushed him back down into the seat, slipping a hand beneath the cloak to touch his injured calf. “We have to hurry. We can’t let you turn into a little cripple.” He slapped the bandage on Song Yuzhang’s leg, drawing a muffled groan from him. “That wouldn’t be pretty.”
Fine beads of sweat appeared on Song Yuzhang’s forehead. “What exactly do you want?”
Fu Mian chuckled softly. “Silly. What else could I want? Of course, I’m taking you to elope with me.”
After a full day and night of jolting travel, Song Yuzhang hardly left the car at all—except to relieve himself. Fu Mian pushed him out, making him hobble barefoot to a secluded spot. Watching him, Fu Mian suddenly smiled. “How did I never notice before—you actually don’t have much hair.”
Song Yuzhang said nothing.
Fu Mian pulled out a short knife and advanced step by step. Song Yuzhang neither dodged nor resisted. Fu Mian teased him with the blade and smiled. “Back then, I loved you so much—sneaking into your room in the dead of night, begging you to fuck me.”
The cold back of the blade pressed against him. Song Yuzhang didn’t move. Fu Mian toyed with it like a game. “Quite impressive.” The white blade flashed. Song Yuzhang squeezed his eyes shut, his whole body shuddering slightly as sweat broke out across his back. When he opened his eyes again, a few pale hairs had fallen onto the blade. Fu Mian suddenly hooked an arm around his neck and whispered, “Why didn’t you want me back then?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “I know why…”
He let go, the back of his hand gently stroking Song Yuzhang’s cheek, smiling with pleasure. “Because you’re the kind of bastard who won’t drink when offered a toast and insists on punishment instead—born needing to be fucked.”
He let go, the back of his hand gently stroking Song Yuzhang’s cheek, smiling with pleasure. “Because you’re the kind of bastard who won’t drink when offered a toast and insists on punishment instead—born needing to be fucked.”
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