Song Yuzhang: Chapter 185 - Death
The gun barrel pressed against his chin, Zhang Changshan, nearly fifty, knew his skills were no longer what they used to be—but his courage remained. He showed no panic, no hint of fear. As the door opened, a faint wind carried the scent of blood into the room, and Zhang Changshan knew his trusted men were likely all dead.
There are always greater powers—Fu Mian was formidable. That was his skill: a lone man could break in and kill. Zhang Changshan respected that. In this world, killing and being killed depended on one’s own ability. Zhang Changshan had killed many, and many had sought to kill him. Wherever he died, he would have no complaints.
But not now—not when Zhang Changyuan’s life still hung in the balance. He could not die with unfinished business.
“He?” Zhang Changshan’s weary mind sharpened with unusual clarity. He smiled affably. “Brother Fu, surely you don’t think I kidnapped your little lover, do you?”
He didn’t name Song Yuzhang directly, fearing it would provoke Fu Mian. Zhang Changshan could see Fu Mian’s state mirrored his own—taut to the extreme, eyes rimmed red.
Fu Mian’s gaze was cold and unblinking, the gun unmoving, his silence radiating a pressure so suffocating that even a seasoned veteran like Zhang Changshan felt crushed.
In truth, Zhang Changshan no longer cared about Fu Mian or Song Yuzhang’s whereabouts. He hadn’t even considered it closely. Everyone has something precious; once occupied by it, the mind instinctively ignores everything else.
In this situation, after a brief thought, Zhang Changshan formulated a plan. He smiled bitterly. “Brother Fu, we’ve been manipulated. That person wasn’t taken by me. Whoever made you think so has a hidden agenda—probably trying to set us against each other so they can profit. Don’t act impulsively.”
Fu Mian spoke slowly: “Why are you in such a hurry to run?”
Zhang Changshan realized his unusual movements had been noticed and suspected. He said earnestly, “My brother is on the battlefield. He’s wounded and without medicine—I couldn’t wait.”
His words were sincere, almost tearful.
Fu Mian’s gaze remained indifferent; he didn’t believe him.
Politicians are excellent actors. Fu Mian raised the gun. “I’ll ask one last time: where is he?”
A chill ran down Zhang Changshan’s spine. The truth wouldn’t be believed, and it would likely be seen as evasion. Resolving to take a risk, he offered half truth, half pretense. He exhaled sharply: “He’s with Shen Chengduo.”
Fu Mian’s eyes flickered, a faint smile appearing. “I hate being lied to the most.”
“I’m not lying!” Zhang Changshan said urgently. “Absolutely not!”
“Is that so?”
Fu Mian stared at him and said evenly, “I’m asking—who poisoned him?”
With the bank closed and locked, it was like an iron fortress. But it had a hidden backdoor. Previously, Shen Chengduo had helped Song Yuzhang stack a mountain of gold here at night. Knowing the backdoor’s location, Shen Chengduo approached it and saw a twisted corpse nearby. Looking up, he spotted a broken window, heart leaping. “Bring him out.”
Song Yuzhang was carried out from the trunk.
Before leaving, Shen Chengduo had sedated him. Song Yuzhang seemed just barely conscious, legs weak on the grass, arms bound behind him, aided by those behind him.
Shen Chengduo couldn’t bring too many people conspicuously, so he used only one car, filled with himself, Song Yuzhang, the driver, and four aides.
After confirming no suspicious eyes in Vienna, he discreetly drove a circuitous route to the bank’s backdoor.
Though few, he had the key people in hand—that was enough.
Shen Chengduo held Song Yuzhang protectively, like a shield in front of him, instructing the others: “Old Li stays, keep the car warm, fire if anything happens. The rest follow me inside.”
Entering the bank, they smelled a sharp metallic stench of blood.
Shen Chengduo carefully led the three men ahead.
Bodies lined the path. Accustomed to street killings himself, Shen Chengduo quickly assessed the situation.
Bringing Song Yuzhang had been the right choice. And his plan was more than killing—it included arson.
Killing and burning together made sense.
A fire would erase or obscure the bank’s money, gold, and bodies, leaving only a legend of a tycoon behind.
Shen Chengduo’s heart raced, yet his steps were light and slow.
Fu Mian’s ears detected movement. He pressed against the wall, flicked the office light off, and watched silently.
Zhang Changshan sat on the sofa, hand inching toward his gun, but careful. Fu Mian lurked in the dark, eyes locked on him.
The lead scout had been taken down.
Moonlight through the large office window allowed Zhang Changshan, now adjusted to the dark, to see that Fu Mian didn’t even look—he swiftly fired outward.
A muffled thud, then the sound of bodies hitting the floor.
Zhang Changshan inhaled sharply, finally realizing what had happened to his thirty men.
Outside, Shen Chengduo had also noticed.
But it didn’t matter—he had someone in hand.
Shen Chengduo grinned, pressing his gun against Song Yuzhang’s lower back. “Brother Song, thanks for your trouble.”
Song Yuzhang showed no expression, looking at the remaining three steps, stained fresh with sticky blood.
A slight pressure on his back made Song Yuzhang cough lightly.
The sound, faint as a feather, echoed clearly in the empty stairwell.
A voice immediately called out:
“Zhuqing?”
Song Yuzhang took a deep breath. “A Mian.”
Fu Mian’s hand tightened on the gun. He suddenly strode toward Zhang Changshan, lifting him up and holding him in front.
Shen Chengduo, seeking a quick resolution to minimize variables, shouted: “Brother Fu, I’ve rescued President Song for you!”
“Don’t listen to him!” Zhang Changshan shouted. “This has nothing to do with me!”
“Brother Fu, I have no other requests. Let’s exchange,” Shen Chengduo’s voice carried a teasing malice. “Just like Director Zhang suggested before—let me swap with Song Yuzhang. Brother Fu, killing anyone is killing anyone, right?”
Zhang Changyuan, hearing this, exploded: “Shen Chengduo, don’t slander me!”
“Come in—”
Fu Mian said coldly.
“I want to see him.”
Shen Chengduo signaled to the two lead aides; they stepped forward, and immediately bullets shot from inside.
“Bang! Bang!” Two shots, and the two aides fell, rolling down the stairs in a bloody heap.
Shen Chengduo, holding Song Yuzhang, was startled. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Brother Fu, what do you mean by this?”
Fu Mian inside repeated, “Come in.”
Shen Chengduo took several deep breaths, letting his exhalations spray over Song Yuzhang’s neck. He nudged Song Yuzhang’s lower back with the gun. Song spoke calmly, “A-Mian, we’re coming in.”
Shen Chengduo carefully pushed him forward. Song Yuzhang’s legs were weak, his steps faltering, but no bullets came from the office as they moved.
In the dim light, Fu Mian finally saw Song Yuzhang.
Shen Chengduo remained completely behind him, revealing almost none of his body.
Song Yuzhang was lightly dressed—a simple white long shirt, barefoot, arms tied behind his back. He looked exhausted and feeble, leaning entirely on Shen Chengduo.
Fu Mian’s gaze fell on his face. He suddenly tightened the hold on Zhang Changshan, whose face turned bright red, gasping for air, mouth flapping like a fish stranded on land.
“Brother Fu, I’ve brought the man to you. How’s that?” Shen Chengduo, still hiding behind Song Yuzhang, said, “Alive in exchange for a dead one—quite a bargain for you.”
Fu Mian focused on Song and whispered, “Are you all right?”
Song Yuzhang blinked slightly and smiled faintly. “Not as comfortable as with you.”
“Brother Fu, what are you waiting for?”
Shen Chengduo had no time to linger for them to talk. He pressed the gun harder against Song Yuzhang’s back, forcing him to lean forward slightly. His feet slid along the ground. Shen Chengduo clung to Song Yuzhang like sticky taffy, moving exactly as Song Yuzhang moved, maximizing the shield effect.
Shen Chengduo warned, voice threatening: “I want to return him to you properly. Don’t make me leave a little souvenir. Brother Song, someone as beautiful as you—if you get paralyzed, you won’t be beautiful anymore.”
Fu Mian, from earlier movements, could tell Song Yuzhang’s back was pressed against the gun. Shen Chengduo had hidden himself perfectly, leaving no chance for a preemptive shot.
Zhang Changshan, trapped in Fu Mian’s grip, could no longer speak, only struggled painfully. Fu Mian suddenly loosened his hold. Zhang Changshan fell unprepared. Fu Mian’s hand followed with a clean downward motion.
“Bang—”
Shen Chengduo didn’t dare peek, whispering to Song Yuzhang, “How is it?”
Zhang Changshan lay on the ground, a bullet in his forehead. His eyes were wide, lips parted, as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t, as if he couldn’t believe he would die here—truly dying with unfinished business.
“Dead.”
Song Yuzhang said weakly.
Shen Chengduo smelled the blood and rejoiced internally; the first step had gone smoothly. Fu Mian was a madman; madmen acted without concern for consequences. Shen Chengduo quickly said, “Good, Brother Fu, you’re decisive. Now toss me the gun—your skill is high, don’t blame me for being cautious.”
As soon as he spoke, Fu Mian unhesitatingly tossed the gun toward them.
The gun fell from overhead behind them. Shen Chengduo rejoiced but remained calm. He peeked from behind Song Yuzhang’s shoulder—Fu Mian’s hands were empty, standing tall, weaponless. His face expressionless, eyes locked on Song Yuzhang.
Shen Chengduo nudged the gun slightly along Song Yuzhang’s lower back. Song Yuzhang’s eyes also followed Fu Mian.
Their gazes met. Fu Mian’s eyes were almost greedy, Song Yuzhang’s calm and clear. Fu Mian’s mind gradually quieted; he seemed to understand the meaning in Song Yuzhang’s eyes.
At the moment Shen Chengduo moved the gun away from Song Yuzhang’s back, the seemingly drugged Song Yuzhang suddenly bent at the waist and pushed backward with all his strength.
“Bang—”
Shen Chengduo groaned from the impact and fired a shot.
The three fell almost simultaneously. Fu Mian lunged toward Zhang Changshan’s corpse, drew a gun from his waist, rolled quickly to Song Yuzhang, grabbed him, and swung him behind the sofa. Shen Chengduo’s shot went awry, and as he fell, he fired several rounds at Fu Mian. Fu Mian rolled and returned fire.
For Fu Mian, one shot was enough.
Shen Chengduo, shot in the forehead, fell backward, tumbling down the stairs like his aides, landing at the bottom, head striking the railing. He opened his eyes wide, seemingly unable to understand why Song Yuzhang suddenly had strength.
Song Yuzhang lay on the ground, slightly breathing, arms tightly bound but now being freed.
“Zhuqing…”
Fu Mian held him close, turning Song Yuzhang’s face in the dark. Song Yuzhang’s breathing gradually stabilized. Fu Mian stared at him, and in the intersecting gazes, he smiled suddenly. “You nearly scared me to death.”
The outer silence was unusual. Fu Mian hugged Song Yuzhang tightly, repeating, “You nearly scared me to death.”
Song Yuzhang was silent a moment, then softly said, “Seeing you worry for me… I’m really glad.”
Fu Mian held him without moving, slowly helping him up. He grabbed Song Yuzhang’s arm to speak, but then they heard footsteps.
Fu Mian didn’t react, eyes locked on Song Yuzhang, silently saying a thousand things: “If I kill them all, wouldn’t you be happier?”
Song Yuzhang remained silent.
Fu Mian’s bloodshot eyes glimmered. As footsteps approached the door, he suddenly pressed Song Yuzhang against him, moving behind the desk, facing the door.
The unlocked door was kicked open. Meng Tingjing entered, gun angled, and unexpectedly came face to face with Song Yuzhang. He froze for nearly a second—the brief pause enough to be fatal.
Fu Mian fired immediately. His shot, normally precise and fast, somehow missed Meng Tingjing, the bullet striking and knocking off his hat. Meng Tingjing was unharmed. Dozens of guns behind him were now aimed at Fu Mian, giving him no second chance.
The shot made Song Yuzhang entirely stiff in Fu Mian’s arms, who could feel the rigidity slowly easing.
Fu Mian positioned the gun at Song Yuzhang’s temple, neither too close nor far.
“Boss Meng,” Fu Mian smiled, “long time no see. This time, you’d better properly greet my wife.”
Meng Tingjing gripped his gun tightly. “What do you want?” he said slowly and deliberately.
“Want? What do I want?”
Fu Mian chuckled.
“Of course, I want to leave.”
Meng Tingjing’s eyes stayed locked on Song Yuzhang. Though slightly late, he at least saw Song Yuzhang alive, smiling at him, relaxed.
Damn it… Meng Tingjing’s heart felt torn, bleeding as he tried to remain composed to confront Fu Mian. “I can let you go, but you leave him.”
Firmly, he added, “I won’t break my word.”
Fu Mian remained calm, smiled faintly. “I don’t believe you.”
Meng Tingjing raised the gun slightly downward. “I can trade with him—let him go, I take you out, I’ll get you to the ship, wherever you want. As long as the green hills remain, there will always be firewood. But tonight, you can’t take him with you. You’re smart—think about the most advantageous move.”
Fu Mian still smiled, his arm tight around Song Yuzhang. Suddenly, the gun aimed at Meng Tingjing.
Everyone behind Meng Tingjing raised their guns an inch.
Fu Mian said, “What if I said… I want your life in exchange for his?”
“You shoot yourself,” he continued slowly, “and I’ll let him go.”
Instant silence filled the bank. No one dared speak.
“Tingjing.”
Song Yuzhang finally spoke, eyes sharp and clear, locked on Meng Tingjing.
Meng Tingjing took a deep breath, gaze clinging to Song Yuzhang. “Impossible.”
Song Yuzhang’s expression softened slowly.
Fu Mian whispered in Song Yuzhang’s ear with a smile, “Zhuqing, look… this person cares for you just a little,” pressing the gun to Song Yuzhang’s chest, turning his face to look at him. “Remember?”
Fu Mian lowered his voice. “We agreed—life and death together. No one can separate us.”
Meng Tingjing held his breath, sensing danger, and slowly pressed his fingers downward on the trigger.
“Remember,” Song Yuzhang’s voice rang out clearly in the still air.
Fu Mian’s eyes locked tightly on Song Yuzhang.
Killing him would have been far too easy. He had countless chances to kill Song Yuzhang—but he didn’t.
He couldn’t bear to.
Truly, he couldn’t bear it.
Fu Mian said calmly, “Then… are you willing to die with me now?”
Meng Tingjing’s heart leapt to his throat. His fingers subtly adjusted the angle of the gun—he wasn’t aiming at Fu Mian, blocked by Song Yuzhang, but at the ruby pigeon blood stone on the desk.
Song Yuzhang looked deep into Fu Mian’s eyes. Those bright, sharp phoenix-like eyes were laced with red veins. Song Yuzhang realized that Fu Mian might have understood everything by now.
All of his schemes, all the times he had been deceived and used—Song Yuzhang had done it again.
Before, Song Yuzhang hadn’t understood; he thought love was harmless. Later, he realized that love could also kill.
In truth, he had killed Fu Mian once already.
Now, he had done it a second time.
Killing for a life—perhaps that was a fitting fate.
Song Yuzhang said, “I will.”
Light erupted in Fu Mian’s eyes—anger and joy intertwined. He stared at Song Yuzhang intently, trying to see if these words were a lie.
No one could deceive him. He trusted no one, and in mistrust, he could never be deceived. Fu Mian’s lips curved slightly; a single tear rolled coldly from his eye.
At that instant, the silent bank echoed with gunfire again.
Bullets struck the desk. The pigeon-blood stone shattered, spraying countless splinters into the air. The flying wood dust drifted toward them. Fu Mian, carrying Song Yuzhang, instinctively dodged. From the shadows, Liu Chu suddenly charged forward, raising a gun.
The bullet struck Fu Mian’s shoulder.
Yet he still held Song Yuzhang tightly.
Meng Tingjing leapt forward as well.
Fu Mian hit the ground with Song Yuzhang. Song Yuzhang’s hand brushed his back, and only then did he realize Fu Mian’s back was already soaked in blood.
Fu Mian held him tightly and whispered something in his ear, then, without hesitation, pressed Song Yuzhang toward the floor-to-ceiling glass window behind them.
Meng Tingjing arrived just in time, using his own weight to pin Song Yuzhang. Only Song Yuzhang’s head hung outside the window.
“Yuzhang…”
Meng Tingjing’s anxious voice rang in his ear. Song Yuzhang turned his face, helplessly looking down.
When Fu Mian jumped, the force was directed to push him back.
The pale moonlight illuminated faint figures on the ground. Song Yuzhang’s ears still seemed to carry the scent of blood and Fu Mian’s gentle voice.
“Zhuqing… next life… come and torment me again.”
----------
If you like my translation, please support me by buying me a coffee:
0 comments: