Song Yuzhang: Chapter 164 - To Dock
Chapter 164: To Dock
Song Yuzhang was seated inside a cargo crate; Xiao Fengxian was in another crate right beside him. Fu Mian deliberately let him take a look. “The one you couldn’t bear to kill—I kept him for you, safe and sound.”
Xiao Fengxian was tightly bound. He was still thin, but he was indeed alive. Hearing the voice, he opened his eyes and briefly met Song Yuzhang’s gaze. Tears immediately rolled out of his eyes.
Song Yuzhang thought that Xiao Fengxian looked a little better than before and wanted to look again, but before he could, he was pressed back into the crate.
Fu Mian closed the lid over him and said cheerfully, “We’re going home.”
The cargo ship docked.
The attendants carried sack after sack, crate after crate, unloading the goods.
Summer in the small southern town was hot, the air laced with the scent of grass and flowers. A few years earlier, the town had endured a bombing; the survivors had barely managed to rebuild it, and now it once again looked quite presentable.
By the riverbank, many women were pounding laundry. When they saw Fu Mian lifting the hem of his robe and stepping off the boat, they greeted him warmly and without reserve. “Boss Fu is back!”
Fu Mian stepped onto the bluestone slabs, let his long robe fall into place, and smiled at them with easy grace. “I’m back.”
In Qingxi, Boss Fu was the most popular man.
The town’s hospital and school had both been funded and built after his arrival. He had descended upon the place as if from nowhere, like a reclusive master from beyond the world, and by his own strength had turned Qingxi into a peaceful little haven where people could live and work contentedly.
Fu Mian mounted his horse. The attendants loaded the cargo crates onto the wagons. Inside the cramped crate, Song Yuzhang listened to the sound of hooves and wheels rolling over the bluestone road. At last, he could be certain of one thing: he really had “come home.”
Qingxi—his true hometown.
The wagon entered the residence through a side gate. Two attendants carried the crate inside and set it down.
Song Yuzhang lay inside for a long time before the lid was finally lifted.
Fu Mian squatted halfway down in front of the crate, looking refreshed and spirited. “Did you get stifled in there?”
“Where’s Fengxian?” Song Yuzhang asked.
“He’s in another courtyard,” Fu Mian said gently. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.”
Song Yuzhang was pulled up, and out of the crate, and at last he saw the room clearly.
It was lavish and grand. The furnishings were numerous but not cluttered, all made of fine wood; even in the dim light, they gleamed beautifully.
Against the wall stood a rosewood canopy bed. Bright red bed curtains were hooked back on either side with gold finial hooks shaped like sparrow beaks, dark yellow tassels hanging softly down. Song Yuzhang was placed onto the bed. Spread over it was a vivid red quilt embroidered in gold and silver thread with mandarin ducks playing in water.
Fu Mian untied the ropes around his wrists and ankles, then began undoing the buttons at his own collar.
“It wasn’t convenient on the boat,” Fu Mian said as he opened his black robe and casually tossed it aside, smiling at Song Yuzhang. “Today, we can really catch up.”
This was the first time since their reunion that Fu Mian had stripped naked in front of Song Yuzhang.
The delicate, soft-skinned young master of the past had become a muscular young man, his skin darkened by the sun. A long scar ran across his abdomen, cutting from his chest down toward his belly, as if someone had slashed him head-on with a blade.
Seeing Song Yuzhang staring at the scar, Fu Mian smiled and took his hand, pressing it against the mark. “How does it feel?”
Song Yuzhang tilted his face up. “When did you get hurt?”
Fu Mian lowered his head, lifted Song Yuzhang’s hand, and kissed the red marks on his wrist. Then he shot him a sideways smile. “I’m not telling you.”
The canopy bed was large and solid, but it creaked loudly. The embroidery on the quilt rubbed against Song Yuzhang’s back, making his already flushed skin itch and burn.
Fu Mian took him three times. There was almost no communication between them—just the act itself, like animals mating.
Afterward, Fu Mian held him from behind, slowly stroking Song Yuzhang’s chest. “Why are you being so good today?”
Song Yuzhang reached up and covered Fu Mian’s left hand on his chest. “Where did the injury come from?”
Still smiling, Fu Mian twisted him hard. “Guess.”
Song Yuzhang fell silent. His fingers slid into the gaps between Fu Mian’s. Fu Mian squeezed his fingers sharply, then lowered his head and bit his neck again.
Fu Mian left. Song Yuzhang lay on the bed for quite some time before sitting up.
His body was sticky, still uncleaned. Barefoot, he got out of bed and looked over the entire room.
There were no windows; even in broad daylight, it was dim inside. The door, however, was carved through, letting in a little light. Song Yuzhang stood by the door and looked out into the courtyard. A massive osmanthus tree grew there, so tall it extended beyond the courtyard walls. There were rocks and water, flowers and leaves—beautiful as a painting.
The year he fled with Chun Xing, Qingxi had been bombed.
The small apartment where he and Xiao Yingtao had lived should long since have been reduced to rubble.
But that tree was far too familiar.
Song Yuzhang pressed against the door, as if he could see his childhood self squatting beneath the tree, watching ants.
Back then, he had been young and didn’t know how to lie—he’d open his mouth and say he wanted to learn from his mother and become a prostitute.
Song Yuzhang lowered his eyes, turned around, and swept his gaze over the room again. No matter how he looked, he couldn’t see any trace of the past.
Toward evening, Fu Mian came to bring him food and water. Song Yuzhang said, “I’ve got a fever again.”
“A fever?” Fu Mian set the dishes on the table and smiled. “Isn’t that a good thing? I like it.”
Song Yuzhang pressed a hand to his abdomen. “I have an old injury. My lungs never fully healed. If I keep running fevers like this, my lungs will fail. If my lungs fail, I’ll die. If I die, you won’t have anyone to take your anger out on.”
Fu Mian’s eyelashes flicked up. He smiled brightly as he looked over. Song Yuzhang stood very straight. His complexion was sickly, but the foundation of his looks was still that of a handsome, dashing grown man. Fu Mian’s wrist twitched, and the small dishes in his hand flew out, splattering all over Song Yuzhang.
“Take my anger out on you? You think I’m venting my anger on you?”
“I really should let you see my temper.”
Fu Mian yanked a set of clothes from the wardrobe and threw them at Song Yuzhang’s feet. “Put them on.”
Song Yuzhang didn’t move. “If you’re going to take it out on Fengxian, you might as well take it out on me. I’m the one who wronged you. Dragging others into it will only make me care about him more.”
Fu Mian sneered. “Give you a bit of kindness, and you start climbing all over my head. Looks like I didn’t fuck you obedient enough this afternoon.”
Song Yuzhang was pressed down onto the table and taken again. This time, he wasn’t being “good.” He wrapped his arms around Fu Mian’s neck and kissed him hard. Fu Mian could do whatever he liked to Song Yuzhang, but he couldn’t stand Song Yuzhang being the slightest bit initiative toward him. If Song Yuzhang tilted his head up to kiss him, Fu Mian would grab his throat. Song Yuzhang didn’t care—his arms clung to Fu Mian as he called him “A-Mian” over and over.
Enraged, Fu Mian threw him back onto the bed and, in one relentless stretch, fucked him until he couldn’t speak anymore.
Fu Mian personally dressed the limp Song Yuzhang, then picked him up, saying he was going to show him something.
He carried Song Yuzhang for at least ten minutes. Song Yuzhang looked drowsy in his arms, but from beneath lowered lashes, his eyes were quietly memorizing the paths through the courtyards.
Judging by the direction of the sunlight outside, Song Yuzhang realized he was being kept in the northwest corner of the estate.
Suddenly, Song Yuzhang grabbed Fu Mian by the collar. Fu Mian lowered his head, his gaze unfriendly. Song Yuzhang said, “This is where I lived as a child, isn’t it?”
Fu Mian smiled at him. “That’s right. The land where you and your whore mother lived. The building got blown apart, so look how kind I am—I gave you a home back.” Carrying him forward, Fu Mian went on, “From now on, you can stay here without worries. Don’t worry—I’ll be more devoted than Ma Jiming. I’ll keep you until you die.”
Song Yuzhang knew Fu Mian had dug up every last detail about him, so he didn’t feel panic anymore. After a while, though, his heart began to pound again—he thought of Chun Xing.
His chest tightened, almost beyond control. If it were only Xiao Fengxian, Song Yuzhang still had a seventy or eighty percent chance of escaping with him. But if Chun Xing were added in—perhaps not just Chun Xing, perhaps Chun Xing’s whole family—then he would truly be in trouble.
“Why are you shaking?” Fu Mian seemed intrigued by his trembling. “Afraid you’ll see someone you don’t want to see?”
At that moment, Song Yuzhang was completely certain.
People say know your enemy and know yourself, and you’ll never lose—but the current Fu Mian, his experiences, temperament, methods, power… Song Yuzhang knew far too little about all of it. Even Fu Mian’s feelings toward him were hard to define. In such circumstances, the only thing Song Yuzhang believed he could do was wait and watch, to see how many tricks Fu Mian still had left.
The more Fu Mian revealed, the better it would be for him. After Fu Mian had let slip the news of his father’s death on the ship, he hadn’t paid him any attention again before they disembarked.
Putting himself in Fu Mian’s place, Song Yuzhang guessed that Fu Mian must have regretted it—realized he’d said too much and exposed a flaw.
He was restless and uneasy, yet once he entered the small courtyard, he instead calmed down completely.
The more tense he was, the calmer he became. That was his nature.
The scenery here was completely different from that of his own courtyard. There were no rocks or water, but there were two thick, round pillars, with two large vats beside them. The surrounding walls were high, trees pressed in on all sides, gloomy as a nest.
Chun Xing… Song Yuzhang silently repeated the name—sour and sweet. In his heart, there was only sourness, no sweetness.
He imagined Chun Xing’s face, Chun Xing’s voice, Chun Xing crying and calling him “young master,” and then someone was dragged out of the room.
That person was dragged out quite literally—his legs limp on the ground like two strands of soft noodles, scraping along the earth. He was dressed neatly enough, but like Xiao Fengxian, he was covered in injuries—and no matter how one looked at him, he looked like a man.
Fu Mian had already sat down and pulled Song Yuzhang onto his lap.
“Take a good look. Can you still recognize him?”
The man was hauled upright and bound horizontally to one of the round pillars. The attendants worked with practiced efficiency, wrapping him layer by layer until he was held straight. For ease of viewing, they lifted his head so his face emerged from his half-long hair.
Song Yuzhang froze.
“This person is stupid and loves to act on his own initiative—truly detestable. He nearly ruined my plans,” Fu Mian said with a gentle smile toward Song Yuzhang. “It made me very angry.”
Staring at the tightly shut eyes of Song Jincheng, Song Yuzhang slowly turned his head. “What does this mean?”
Fu Mian tugged lightly at Song Yuzhang’s arm and lazily said, “Wake him up.”
“Yes.”
The attendants smoothly ladled water from a vat, added some coarse salt, and with a loud splash threw it over Song Jincheng.
Song Jincheng screamed and opened his eyes. As soon as he did, he began shouting incoherently, babbling pleas for mercy. Without needing instructions, the attendants unfastened the whips at their waists and lashed him.
After two cries, Song Jincheng stopped screaming.
Song Yuzhang watched as Song Jincheng’s chest heaved violently like a fish in boiling oil, unable to escape the falling whips. Tears and snot streamed down his face, his features twisted into something unbearable to look at.
Song Yuzhang had never liked Song Jincheng, yet seeing him in such a miserable state brought him no pleasure. He grabbed Fu Mian’s hand. “Why is this happening? He has nothing to do with me.”
Fu Mian laughed heartily, affectionately flicking Song Yuzhang’s nose with his finger. “Silly Zhuqing. Look how clever you are, yet you still have moments of confusion. If it weren’t for him, how would you have spent so long nursing your injuries and made me wait all that time?”
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