Song Yuzhang: Chapter 177 - The Situation
Inside the mansion, Shen Chengduo welcomed Zhang Changshan as though he were receiving a retired emperor. Zhang Changshan, for his part, put on airs without the slightest restraint.
Though Shen Chengduo had long since cursed him to filth in his heart, he still respectfully presented Zhang Changshan with fine cigarettes, good liquor, and handsome young men.
Zhang Changshan said lazily, “Has the arm factory resumed work?”
“It has, it has.”
Zhang Changshan puffed on his cigar and exhaled a stream of smoke. “Speed it up. Time is tight. Once the factory is completed, the higher-ups will allocate substantial funds.” He cast Shen Chengduo a meaningful look. “When that happens, you’ll get your share.”
Shen Chengduo smiled. “That will all be in tribute to you, sir. I’m just someone born to toil. I like working. As long as you’re willing to let me do things for you, I’m happy.”
“Good. That’s a fortunate fate.” Zhang Changshan flicked his hand slightly forward, and Shen Chengduo hurried to lift the ashtray for him.
After smoking in silence for a while, Zhang Changshan suddenly crushed the cigar into the ashtray. “Shall we go upstairs for some fun?”
Shen Chengduo immediately understood. “They’re all waiting for you!”
He led Zhang Changshan upstairs. But once they arrived, Zhang Changshan made a gesture to dismiss everyone. After a brief pause, Shen Chengduo caught on and quickly had the handsome youths withdraw.
Composing himself, Shen Chengduo said, “Director Zhang, what instructions do you have?”
Zhang Changshan motioned for him to sit first. Shen Chengduo sat upright on the sofa. Zhang Changshan clasped his hands behind his back and paced slowly before him—unhurried steps that nonetheless made Shen Chengduo’s heart rise to his throat.
Suddenly stopping, Zhang Changshan turned slightly. “Xiao Shen, would you be willing to act in a play with me?”
Naturally, Shen Chengduo agreed at once. “Of course I would. Director Zhang, what sort of play? Please instruct me.”
Fu Mian understood Zhang Changshan very well. Having suffered once over Song Yuzhang, he would never again cooperate with anyone without thoroughly investigating their background.
Zhang Changshan had lost his entire family in the early years of war. Only a younger brother remained. It was said the two brothers were extremely close. But feelings could not be measured precisely; in these times, let alone brothers—even fathers and sons could turn against each other.
Zhang Changyuan was currently fighting bitterly in Yeyang. Through his connections in the tobacco trade, Fu Mian had learned that the situation in Yeyang was at a stalemate. Food supplies in the city were nearly exhausted.
Song Yuzhang had recently cut his hair short. At first, Fu Mian insisted on cutting it for him. Though he had never cut anyone’s hair before, he thought: if his hands were so deft with a knife, what was a mere pair of scissors? He had even observed when Song Yuzhang trimmed Xiao Fengxian’s hair and felt it didn’t look difficult at all.
But halfway through, Fu Mian realized something was wrong. He had cut Song Yuzhang’s hair unevenly—long in some places, short in others. Trying to remain calm, he adjusted his mindset and, in one determined push, thoroughly ruined it.
There had been no mirror in front of Song Yuzhang while it was being cut. Afterward, Fu Mian wiped the scissors and strode off. When Song Yuzhang ran his hand over his head and felt how prickly it was, he immediately went to the courtyard pool to look at his reflection. The result was that he rolled up his sleeves and searched the entire courtyard for Fu Mian.
Fu Mian hid in a side yard and refused to answer, instead asking his attendants if any of them had once trained as barbers. The attendants looked at one another—if they had such skills, would they really be out risking their lives?
In the end, it was Xiao Fengxian who solved the problem.
Xiao Fengxian had nimble hands. But even clever hands could not entirely remedy such uneven terrain; he could only cut it shorter and more even overall.
As a child, Song Yuzhang had been delicate and lovely. Around ten or so, his features changed rapidly, growing into a handsome and dashing look. By fourteen or fifteen, he was already striking. When he walked down the street, ladies would stare without blinking, imagining him a tall gentleman. He had scarcely had a period of being a “beautiful boy”—he had always carried the air of a young man.
Now, with his hair suddenly cropped to an inch, something like a student cut, he seemed to possess the air of a big schoolboy. If he put on a student uniform and cap, he would look exactly like one of the progressive students marching in the streets.
Fu Mian touched the top of his head. Song Yuzhang’s hair was soft; even cut short, it remained smooth and compliant.
Song Yuzhang turned his head and said flatly, “Get lost.”
Knowing he was in the wrong, Fu Mian crouched down. “Good brother?”
“Call me grandpa.”
Fu Mian smiled and nudged his head lightly against Song Yuzhang’s abdomen. “All right, good grandpa. Get up. I’ll spar with you.”
The two of them practiced in the courtyard.
In terms of pure martial skill, Fu Mian lacked both Song Yuzhang’s childhood training and his extensive experience in the underworld. What Fu Mian had was a ruthless, life-or-death ferocity—but he couldn’t use that against Song Yuzhang. As a result, he was constantly at a disadvantage. Song Yuzhang showed no mercy; his punches and kicks were solid and genuinely painful.
Fu Mian had no taste for being beaten. Seizing an opportunity, he scooped Song Yuzhang up around the waist. Normally, the next step would be to smash his head against the ground or a wall.
“That enough?” Fu Mian asked, holding him, sweat beading on his forehead.
Song Yuzhang was the same, sweat glistening along his hairline. Taking advantage of the position, he looped his arms around Fu Mian’s neck.
With a lift of his hand, Fu Mian tossed him slightly; Song Yuzhang used the momentum to wrap his legs around Fu Mian’s waist.
Fu Mian smiled at the sweat-soaked face before him.
Like this, Song Yuzhang resembled an utterly carefree student—radiant with heat, appetizing to behold.
Carrying him toward the house, Fu Mian said something that rather spoiled the mood. “Yeyang is about to run out of food. Zhang Changshan must be anxious.”
“Is that so? How long has the shortage lasted?”
“It’s only this month that supplies are nearly gone. But the turmoil inside has been churning for at least two or three months.”
Fu Mian laid Song Yuzhang on the bed. “The war in Yeyang is no longer simply about fighting. It’s about the power struggle among the higher-ups.”
“How so?”
Fu Mian pulled over a stool and sat opposite him, pouring water as he spoke. “The Japanese can’t hold out much longer. The National Government’s primary enemy now is no longer the Japanese.”
Song Yuzhang took the cup and drank deeply. He frowned slightly. “I’m not interested in politics. I just want to know how this affects Zhang Changshan and Zhang Changyuan.”
“The higher-ups won’t allocate more funds to Yeyang. So Zhang Changshan’s sudden visit to Haizhou is likely to secure a sum of ready cash to support Zhang Changyuan.”
“Winter is approaching. Time is tight. Zhang Changshan needs quick money.”
“Quick money…” Song Yuzhang murmured thoughtfully.
Watching him think, Fu Mian felt even more that he looked like a student and reached out to touch his head again. Song Yuzhang ignored him. After a moment of focused thought, he looked up at Fu Mian. “What’s the situation with the banks now?”
“They’ve been taken over by the government.”
Song Yuzhang fell into thought again.
If Zhang Changshan was that desperate, why not simply siphon money directly from the bank in secret?
There was still quite a lot of money left in the bank vault before he left — including what remained of the Nie family’s funds, the money raised from railway bonds, the bank’s daily income, stock profits, and even some gold. Altogether, it was no small sum. Whether in U.S. dollars or in gold, it would have been more than enough to resolve Zhang Changshan’s urgent financial needs. So why was Zhang Changshan still lingering in Haizhou instead of leaving? And why did he still have the leisure to spar with Fu Mian?
Song Yuzhang did not believe for a second that Zhang Changshan harbored any good intentions.
The vault key had always been kept by Liu Chuanzong. Could it be that Old Liu refused to hand it over? But even if Liu Chuanzong was unwilling, would Zhang Changshan really lack the means to force him to surrender it?
Impossible.
Unless Liu Chuanzong would rather die than give it up.
Song Yuzhang’s heartbeat suddenly quickened. Liu Chu was already gone — could it be that Old Liu would be gone as well?
Thinking of Liu Chu and the capable men who had accompanied him on his journeys, Song Yuzhang felt a sharp pain in his chest. He lowered his eyes. Fu Mian’s hand was just beneath his gaze, the burn scar on the back of it exposed, reddened, and blurred from intense movement.
Song Yuzhang squeezed Fu Mian’s fingertips. “Since he’s the one in a hurry, then let’s wait a little longer.”
Fu Mian stroked from the top of his head to the back of it. The hair at the back had been cut even shorter, damp with sweat, and in his palm it felt like a tuft of newly sprouted tender grass.
In truth, he himself was gradually growing anxious. The longer Song Yuzhang stayed by his side, the more restless he became. The impatience was difficult to describe — it came purely from instinct.
Fu Mian lowered his head and kissed the crown of Song Yuzhang’s head. “Then we’ll wait a little longer.”
An expert from Nancheng had arrived.
This expert came from a grave-robbing background and was well-versed in mechanisms and lockpicking. Zhang Changshan brought him in to examine the bank vault.
The expert needed time. Zhang Changshan and Liao Tiandong waited in the president’s office.
Sitting on the sofa, Liao Tiandong looked around the office and felt a deep sigh rise in him.
No one had touched the president’s office. It was exactly as it had been when Song Yuzhang left. His coat still hung on the rack, as though he were still there and would push the door open at any moment.
Truth be told, Liao Tiandong had rather liked Song Yuzhang. He was handsome, had character, and most importantly, he was generous. Liao Tiandong had gained quite a few benefits from him.
If Song Yuzhang were still alive, it was foreseeable that Liao Tiandong would continue receiving steady and effortless advantages from him.
What a pity.
Zhang Changshan clearly saw Liao Tiandong’s expression from the side and felt utter disdain. He stood up. “Sit. I’ll go take a look.”
Liao Tiandong couldn’t help standing as well. “Director Zhang, shall I come along and help?”
Without turning his head, Zhang Changshan said, “What help could you possibly offer? Stay put!”
Once the door shut, Liao Tiandong sat back down, an indignant look on his face. He shook his fist at the door and thought: Once the war is over, let’s see what kind of post you can secure with your wartime directorship.
He had built up considerable assets in Nancheng and deposited plenty of money there, all in preparation for lobbying during this year’s performance review — perhaps to secure a promotion, or even a transfer to Nancheng. He wouldn’t give up Haizhou, of course — such a fat piece of meat; only a fool would relinquish it. He would get gilded in Nancheng for a while and then return. At that point, who would have the final say in Haizhou would be another matter entirely.
With grand ambitions in mind, Liao Tiandong gradually calmed himself. No need to rush.
If the vault were truly opened, Zhang Changshan wouldn’t possibly leave him without a share. None of them were poor-looking men. No rush, no rush.
“Well?” Zhang Changshan asked in a low voice.
The tomb-raiding expert had spent a long time studying the vault with a pile of tools. In the end, he reached a conclusion. “Director Zhang, if you want to open this lock, it seems there’s only one way.”
Zhang Changshan’s eyes lit up. “Speak!”
“Use explosives.”
Zhang Changshan barely restrained his expression. Grimacing, he said, “No other way?”
The man nodded firmly. “No. The structure is too complicated. Either you use the key, or you blow it open with explosives.” He spread his hands to indicate thickness. “The steel plates inside are very thick. You’d best prepare three or four crates of dynamite and test the proper amount bit by bit. Be careful not to blow the whole vault down.” The expert, with an honest and kindly face, gave a reassuring smile. “Grave robbing isn’t as mysterious as people think. When we can’t open a door, it’s the same — we blow it up.”
Darkness seemed to pulse before Zhang Changshan’s eyes. In a hoarse voice he said, “Thank you for making the trip.”
“No trouble. I had nothing better to do anyway. Director Zhang, are you planning to develop your career in Haizhou from now on?”
“Not to that extent. Just helping a friend.”
After exchanging a few words, Zhang Changshan sent the expert away. His mind roared like continuous explosions. There was no other way now — only one path left… Better go find Shen Chengduo first.
Zhang Changshan left the bank directly, not even bothering to inform Liao Tiandong.
Liao Tiandong waited without understanding what was going on until the sun was nearly setting. When he went to check the vault and found no one there, he finally realized Zhang Changshan had already left.
Being treated with such disregard made him feel as though his lungs were about to burst with anger.
Fuming, he strode back — only to run into a bank clerk hesitating outside the office door.
“Hey—!”
Liao Tiandong shouted, “What are you skulking around there for?”
The junior clerk jumped in fright. Seeing that it was Liao Tiandong, his face turned pale as earth, and he hurriedly raised the letter in his hand.
“Th-there’s a letter addressed to our bank president.”
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