Song Yuzhang: Chapter 161 - Hanged
Chapter 161: Hanged
It seemed to be raining outside. The rain struck the hull of the ship with a rustling sound, creating a different kind of quiet and calm. There was a round porthole in the cabin, light seeping in from outside and forming a small circle on the floor, like a spotlight on a stage. Song Yuzhang was a temporary actor on that stage.
Fu Mian had hoisted him up.
His wrists were bound with hemp rope. The cabin was not very high, and Song Yuzhang was tall; once he was suspended, the tips of his toes could barely touch the wooden planks.
From night until the sun rose, Fu Mian did not return. Song Yuzhang’s head and face burned with heat. Several times he nearly passed out, yet he could not—once his strength gave way, the weight on his wrists became unbearable. He could only stay conscious, enduring each second as it passed.
That single word, love, had enraged Fu Mian to this extent.
After being hung for an entire night, Song Yuzhang smiled bitterly, trying to find humor in misery.
At least it proved that he was not without bargaining chips.
In the end, would he really have to return to his old trade, just as Fu Mian said—deceive him once more to escape?
Song Yuzhang did not know.
After wandering the world for so many years, he had always hidden himself well, rarely even revealing his real name. Now, Fu Mian had suddenly torn away his disguise. Song Yuzhang felt as if he were truly being stripped bare—not physically, but in his soul.
His toes pressed against the floor as he propped himself up. His calves were taut, and the wound inevitably split open. Fresh blood soaked through the bandages. Calmly, Song Yuzhang thought: It’s only flesh and skin. I won’t truly be crippled.
His body, after enduring that explosion, was clearly not what it used to be—but it was not so weak as to collapse.
Let it bleed. Let the fever burn.
Song Yuzhang pressed his dry lips together, clenched his teeth, and lifted his face slightly.
At that moment, the cabin door opened.
Song Yuzhang still kept his face tilted upward, not looking to see who it was.
He guessed it was Fu Mian.
There were quite a few attendants on the ship; he could hear footsteps passing on the deck. Yet the only ones he had seen were the two men who had pinned down Xiao Fengxian in the warehouse that day.
Fu Mian, toward him, seemed to possess a kind of exclusivity.
“What are you thinking about?”
The careless voice sounded. Song Yuzhang felt Fu Mian’s hands stroking over him.
Suspended like this, every muscle in Song Yuzhang’s body tensed involuntarily. The lines of muscle beneath his long, straight collarbones flowed smoothly, filled with masculine strength. Yet strangely, on such a finely built body, his skin was pale with a hint of pink, revealing a contradictory, almost innocent youthfulness.
Fu Mian bent down and took a deep breath between his chest. “Why aren’t you speaking?”
After a long while, Song Yuzhang rasped, “Thirsty.”
“Is that so?”
Dry lips were pressed by fingers. Fu Mian rubbed them hard—painful and itchy at once. “I won’t let you die of thirst.”
His throat was squeezed; Song Yuzhang instinctively opened his mouth. Fu Mian’s fingers shoved inside, stirring roughly, two fingers pinching his tongue and stroking it up and down.
Suddenly, Song Yuzhang thought of the tongue Xiao Fengxian had lost. He wanted to bite down, but he understood that doing so would only give him momentary relief—and might cause Xiao Fengxian to suffer even more.
So Song Yuzhang could only keep his mouth open. Saliva spilled from the corner of his lips. Fu Mian withdrew his wet fingers and smeared them again across Song Yuzhang’s mouth. “Isn’t there plenty of water here?”
Song Yuzhang said nothing, summoning all his strength just to stay balanced on his toes.
Fu Mian moved behind him.
The two soaked fingers changed position.
“So hot.”
Fu Mian said it like praise. “I think it’s quite nice if you just keep burning like this.”
Song Yuzhang, who had been silent, finally let out a sharp intake of breath.
“Don’t tense up so much. What are you in such a hurry for?”
Fu Mian wrapped an arm around his waist, smiling darkly yet gently. “Cheap thing.”
For one fleeting moment, Song Yuzhang thought of Meng Tingjing.
Only for that instant. After that, he could no longer think of anything at all.
His legs strained desperately to touch the ground, but his body went weak. He could only tilt backward, and the more he tilted, the weaker he became. Caught in that vicious cycle, Song Yuzhang could not help but squeeze his eyes shut.
Fu Mian held his collapsing waist and laughed. “Tasted something good, have you? Learned to seek food on your own now?”
Song Yuzhang bit his lip until it bled, blood seeping between his teeth. Unable to bear it, he murmured, “A-Mian…”
A trace of a sob escaped from the always tall and unrestrained Song Yuzhang, carrying the faint sound of pleading. Feeling light strike his body from behind, Fu Mian exerted himself ruthlessly and said with a light smile, “I told you not to call me that, but you insist. I get it now—you’re doing it on purpose. Otherwise, you cheap thing wouldn’t feel satisfied!”
Song Yuzhang’s toes slid painfully across the floor. As the rain outside grew heavier, he called out again and again, like someone who had lost his soul, “A-Mian.”
When he felt as if he were about to be smashed apart, Fu Mian finally lifted him up.
His legs draped weakly over Fu Mian’s arms. At last, Song Yuzhang completely gave up his strength and let his full weight rest in Fu Mian’s embrace, as though deliberately leaning into him.
“Even a whore isn’t as cheap as you—” Fu Mian bit his ear, grinding the soft cartilage with his teeth. “Stop calling out!”
Song Yuzhang seemed not to hear at all, still calling “A-Mian” again and again.
Fu Mian covered his mouth with one hand.
Hot breath spilled out, damp and trapped inside, like chanting a spell.
“A-Mian.”
Fu Mian untied the rope and threw Song Yuzhang onto the bed, pressing down on the back of his neck and forcing his entire face into the pillow.
“Shut up!”
Rain lashed against the cabin’s glass window with sharp cracks. Wind and thunder raged outside. Disordered breaths slowly subsided. Fu Mian lay heavily on Song Yuzhang’s back, lifted his hands, fingers rubbing over the bright red shackles on his wrists, then lowered his head and bit down hard.
Song Yuzhang made no sound. Fu Mian released him, brushing aside the hair at the back of his neck. “After we disembark, I’ll give you a proper beating.”
Song Yuzhang did not understand at first. When Fu Mian began stroking his wrists again, he did.
Fu Mian watched the change in his expression, tilted his head, and smiled. “Do you like iron, or copper? Gold and silver won’t do—gold and silver are too soft.”
Song Yuzhang looked at Fu Mian. There was a kind of resigned calm in his eyes, utterly without ripples. “I’m thirsty.”
Fu Mian stared straight at Song Yuzhang. After a long moment, he suddenly laughed. “Then stay thirsty! I’m not doing this so you can live comfortably.” Fu Mian cupped Song Yuzhang’s face and kissed him once on his bleeding lips. “Zhu Qing, my darling, wait slowly. Your hard days are still ahead.”
—
Meng Tingjing could not find a single clue.
The bandits were all dead. The soldiers and attendants who had gone there were all dead as well. The only possible survivor was Liu Chu, who had vanished without a trace—but if Liu Chu were still alive, where was he?
Meng Tingjing had wondered whether Liu Chu might have betrayed Song Yuzhang, but that suspicion did nothing to help him find Song Yuzhang. He would rather believe that Liu Chu had been clever enough to escape death, though he did not know where he had gone. In any case, as long as Liu Chu was alive, there was one more thread of hope of finding Song Yuzhang.
Only a few days had passed. Guantu’s transportation was underdeveloped; apart from a handful of unremarkable planes, the only way out of Guantu was via a few small roads. Those roads led either to even more desolate regions or to Shankang, where one could take a ship.
The airport had many checkpoints, and men from the Twenty-Third Division were stationed there—it was not a suitable escape route.
Meng Tingjing made a call to the Twenty-Third Division and ordered someone to bring over a crate of gold bars at once.
This was not his territory; he had to borrow someone else’s strength.
Liao Tiandong had already pinched his nose and arranged a military aircraft for Meng Tingjing. Now he had to open the green light wide again for Meng Tingjing’s subordinates. Furious as he was, he could only agree. Nancheng did not just have his private residence; it also held a large amount of hidden assets. Ever since Meng Tingjing had gotten hold of those two million at the Song Family Bank, Liao Tiandong had developed a constant anxiety and moved his assets to Nancheng. He had never expected Meng Tingjing to catch him there as well.
Although corruption was rampant among officials from top to bottom, Liao Tiandong was still wary. He could only send the Meng family’s trusted men onto the plane with the sort of attitude one used to invite a ghost.
Once that was done, he went off in a huff to gamble hard at Shen Chengduo’s casino. Inside Shen Chengduo’s casino, a round of gambling would see dramatic swings of wins and losses, but in the end, he would always win—and win big.
Liao Tiandong suddenly realized that Shen Chengduo was actually very good at dealing with people. Damn it, in all of Haizhou, there was no one worse at—conducting oneself—than Meng Tingjing!
Liao Tiandong loved money but not women. With Shen Chengduo, he did nothing but drink and curse.
Shen Chengduo said, “Why is Boss Meng in such a hurry to go to Guantu? I remember Chairman Song went to Guantu not long ago.”
“No idea,” Liao Tiandong said impatiently. “That place is so poor there’s no profit to be had.”
Shen Chengduo said, “Who knows when the two of them will come back. Now this is great—the chairman and vice-chairman of the chamber of commerce have both run off.”
Liao Tiandong snorted. “What’s it to me?”
As soon as the gold bars arrived, Meng Tingjing immediately became an honored guest of the Twenty-Third Division. Guantu was just as Liao Tiandong had said—no oil to squeeze. If it were even a bit more prosperous, it wouldn’t be the Twenty-Third Division’s turn to sit there in such peace.
Meng Tingjing had no other expectations of these soldiers, who were little better than rice buckets. He only had them follow the small roads to search, to see whether there were any traces of Liu Chu or any suspicious individuals.
“Bring back every unfamiliar face!”
Meng Tingjing issued orders with more authority than the division commander himself. The real commander of the Twenty-Third Division was at home counting gold bars, completely unconcerned with how his troops were being used.
Seeing that their superior had delegated full authority, the rank-and-file soldiers obediently answered, “Yes.”
Meng Tingjing himself wasted no words and immediately led a large group toward the docks at Shankang.
Shankang was also a small city, and its docks were not bustling. Meng Tingjing himself made his living at docks; with just a few words, he struck up familiarity with the local dock boss. With money clearing the way, he asked about ships that had gone out to sea in recent days.
“Ships? Quite a few. Several cargo ships.”
After careful thought, Meng Tingjing asked precisely, “How many around July twelfth—one or two days before and after?”
Departures from the docks were recorded. The dock boss fetched the records, ran his finger down the page, and said, “Three ships went out on July eleventh, two on July twelfth, none on July thirteenth.”
Meng Tingjing took the logbook and looked it over. Unfortunately, Shankang was a small place, and the records were not thorough; there was little to glean.
The destinations of the ships were not the same.
Three went north; two went south.
Meng Tingjing closed the logbook. He had never believed in gods or Buddhas, but at this moment, he could only gamble. Song Yuzhang spoke with almost no accent, but his tastes leaned toward the south. His favorite Master Hu was a southern chef.
Meng Tingjing’s expression darkened. He said to the waiting soldiers, “Southward!”
—
After being thirsty for half an hour, Song Yuzhang finally got water. He was desperately thirsty and drained the entire cup in one go. After he finished, Fu Mian, who had fed him the water, said unhurriedly, “You drank the whole cup. He won’t have any water to drink now.”
Song Yuzhang slowly lifted his face.
Fu Mian raised his brows at him with a smile.
“Must it be like this?” Song Yuzhang said slowly. “Every wrong has its perpetrator. This has nothing to do with him.”
Fu Mian said, “Didn’t you say you didn’t care about him?”
Song Yuzhang replied calmly, “That was me lying to you.”
Fu Mian laughed softly. “So you finally admit it.”
“Let him go,” Song Yuzhang said. “I’ll do anything.”
Fu Mian smiled at him, then suddenly reached out—smack—and slapped Song Yuzhang across the face, crisp and sharp.
“Trash, you think you’re still worth that much? You’ll do anything? What can you do?” Fu Mian said gently. “Spread your legs for me like a whore, that’s all, isn’t it?”
Song Yuzhang coughed lightly and said evenly, “There’s much more I can do.”
“Oh?” Fu Mian smiled. “For example?”
Song Yuzhang stared at his face for a moment, then knelt and slowly bent forward.
Lowering his head so he could not see Fu Mian’s expression, his lips brushed lightly against the soft silk. “Let him go, and I can be even more debased.”
The short hair at the back of his head was suddenly yanked hard. Before it was clear whether the force meant to pull him up or press him down, the cabin door outside was knocked urgently.
“What is it?”
Fu Mian’s voice was cold, as if it came out of a crack in the ice.
“Master, something big.”
Fu Mian flung Song Yuzhang aside and went out, closing the cabin door behind him so not a sliver of the scene inside could be seen. With a grim face, he said, “Speak.”
“Someone has spotted a ship behind us that seems to be in pursuit.”
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