Song Yuzhang: Extra 1 - London Life Part 1 [Featuring Meng Tingjing]
After disembarking in London, Song Yuzhang and Meng Tingjing had originally planned to transfer to a flight bound for the United States. Unfortunately, the weather in London was poor, and flights were grounded, so the two could only stay there temporarily.
Though their departure had been planned, in order to avoid attracting attention they had to make it seem both planned and unplanned. All in all, it was still rather rushed.
Song Yuzhang was a man who traveled light; bringing only Xiao Fengxian was enough. The Liu father and son had separate arrangements and were still lying low in the country for the time being. Meng Tingjing, however, truly had a whole household in tow—even the head chef came along. Fortunately, Meng Sushan was capable; on the journey, she made proper arrangements for the concubines and younger sisters who were willing to follow them.
But the concubines and sisters did not speak English, and neither did Meng Sushan. Once abroad, Meng Tingjing could no longer be a hands-off master. Surrounded by his sisters and concubines chattering nonstop, he answered questions endlessly, his face darker than the gloomy sky outside.
As for this, Song Yuzhang chose to stand aside. With the bit of English he knew, he took Xiao Fengxian and smoothly secured a room first to rest.
Hiding behind Song Yuzhang, Xiao Fengxian mumbled that someone over there had green eyes and looked frightening.
Song Yuzhang patted his head gently. “Don’t be afraid. They’re just ordinary people, the same as us.”
It took Meng Tingjing a full hour to settle everyone. When he returned to the room to look for Song Yuzhang, he found him barefoot, reclining leisurely on the bed with one leg propped up, flipping through the hotel’s illustrated brochure.
Meng Tingjing was so annoyed, he laughed. He glanced around first and asked, “Where’s Xiao Fengxian?”
“Next door,” Song Yuzhang replied.
Without ceremony, Meng Tingjing pounced on him and tickled him thoroughly.
Song Yuzhang burst into laughter. After fooling around for a while, he hugged Meng Tingjing’s head and said with a grin, “You looked just like an old housekeeper earlier.”
Meng Tingjing looked at him wordlessly. “You know some English too. Why didn’t you help?”
Song Yuzhang smiled and kissed his forehead. “Because you looked adorable like that!”
When they had first met, Meng Tingjing had been arrogant and aloof. He was still proud now, but there was more warmth to him. In truth, aside from Meng Sushan, he might not have felt much affection for the other concubines and sisters. Yet he still gave them a choice, was willing to take them along, and even with a dark expression arranged their rooms.
Song Yuzhang found that version of Meng Tingjing very lovable—worth loving.
Meng Tingjing did not know he looked “adorable.” He only felt a headache coming on and was already secretly planning to separate from the concubines and sisters as soon as possible. He liked peace and could not stand noise.
The weather in London remained poor. To Song Yuzhang, newly arrived abroad, everything felt fresh. English words were everywhere. He could stand in the hotel lobby staring at the decorations for ages—there was a colorful Christmas tree that would blink with lights at night.
Xiao Fengxian had only just begun speaking in China; abroad, knowing nothing, he was even more anxious, clinging to Song Yuzhang like a tail. The two of them admired the Christmas tree together in the lobby.
Song Yuzhang wondered whether the tree naturally grew wide at the bottom and pointed at the top, or if it had been trimmed into that shape.
Either way, it was exquisitely beautiful, perfectly sized for viewing. Perhaps they could add one at home in the future.
As Song Yuzhang admired the tree, others admired Song Yuzhang.
Xiao Fengxian tugged at his sleeve and hid behind him, frightened of the tall, blond, blue-eyed foreigner before them.
Song Yuzhang remained calm. The man spoke extremely fluent English—so fluent and rapid that Song Yuzhang could barely understand. In such situations, he naturally responded with a smile.
When he smiled, the man grew even more excited, gesturing animatedly and even spreading his arms as if to embrace him.
Song Yuzhang stepped back half a step and curved his lips. “No.”
Hearing even that simple word thrilled the man immensely; his eyebrows seemed to dance across his face.
Song Yuzhang kept smiling, thinking the man’s accent was quite like Meng Tingjing’s when he spoke English—pleasant to hear.
The man talked until his mouth was dry. Seeing that Song Yuzhang only smiled silently, he finally realized the issue and slowed down.
But even slowed, Song Yuzhang still could not understand. With English, if one or two words in a long sentence were unfamiliar, the whole thing fell apart. He would have to study properly later.
Having admired the man’s unusual features and tone enough, Song Yuzhang lost interest and turned back to the Christmas tree he had not yet finished admiring.
After another regretful glance at his profile, the man left.
Soon, another foreigner approached. This one seemed to have learned from the previous attempt: he spoke slowly and exaggerated his mouth movements.
Still, Song Yuzhang could not understand.
The man then raised his voice.
Song Yuzhang thought he wasn’t deaf—he simply didn’t understand.
“I don’t understand,” he said in Chinese with a smile. “Stop bothering me. Get lost.”
Naturally, the foreigner didn’t understand either. Seeing him respond, he eagerly continued speaking.
Annoyed, Song Yuzhang lost interest in the tree and took Xiao Fengxian back upstairs.
Within two days, almost the entire hotel knew that a very charming Asian man was staying on the third floor—everyone except Meng Tingjing.
Meng Tingjing had studied in Britain before and still had some connections there. Several former classmates he had once punched were now doing fairly well in London. When they met him, they collectively acted as if they had amnesia—refusing to admit they had once been beaten senseless by a tall, slender Asian student, remembering only their old friendship.
Unwilling to stay long in a hotel and unsure when flights would resume, Meng Tingjing decided to find a residence in London.
One former classmate, quite capable in real estate, asked what kind of house he wanted to rent. Meng Tingjing paused slightly. “An estate.”
The classmate thought: damn wealthy Asian.
“Not rent,” Meng Tingjing corrected. “I’ll buy.”
He disliked living in a house bearing someone else’s traces. He would rather purchase and refurbish it himself.
The classmate’s memory of past beatings seemed to resurface instantly.
Meng Tingjing quickly settled on a property and hired several housekeepers who could barely speak Chinese, offering wages far above the norm. Returning to the hotel to prepare for moving, he was stopped at the front desk by the manager, who informed him that their stay had caused inconvenience.
Meng Tingjing thought the British were playing racial discrimination again. No longer the hotheaded youth of before, he calmly asked, “What do you mean?” intending to deal with it afterward.
The manager looked troubled. “Your companion is simply too charming. Our hotel has become the latest attraction. It’s overcrowded, and some guests are complaining.”
Meng Tingjing did not know what expression to make.
He knew Song Yuzhang was beautiful—excessively so. But he had forgotten that abroad, his beauty was oupled with mystery.
An Oriental beauty had considerable appeal overseas. Busy these past days, Meng Tingjing had no idea his backyard was nearly on fire. He hurried back to the room. Song Yuzhang was showering.
Water splashed in the bathroom as Meng Tingjing knocked lightly.
“Back already?” Song Yuzhang called.
Meng Tingjing had been house-hunting these days. Song Yuzhang thought it was good; being stuck in a hotel indefinitely was no solution, and he had nearly exhausted its sights.
Meng Tingjing hummed and opened the bathroom door.
Song Yuzhang tilted his face up, washing his hair. His short hair was covered in dense foam, accentuating his slightly slender face. His eyelashes were long, curling with mist clinging to them. Handsome and dashing, yet carrying a disarming purity, he could make anyone lose their soul.
Meng Tingjing grabbed his slick neck and bit his lips lightly. “The house is ready. We’ll move in a couple of days.”
“That’s great,” Song Yuzhang replied casually, turning back under the shower to rinse the foam from his hair. “I’m getting bored here. By the way, whenever I go out, people keep talking to me. Is it because we look too conspicuous here?”
Bent slightly at the waist, his back was flawless as white jade. Foam slid down along his spine and over his firm hips, dissolving away. Unbuttoning his clothes, Meng Tingjing answered hoarsely, “Probably.”
After seven days in the hotel, they moved into a small estate.
Though not small, it was still slightly inferior to the Meng residence. Fortunately, with only three or four concubines and sisters, they could live separately in relative peace.
The estate’s scenery differed greatly from Chinese manors, giving Song Yuzhang a new sense of freshness. After strolling around, he felt something was missing and asked Meng Tingjing for a Christmas tree—the pointed one with colorful lights like in the hotel lobby.
Meng Tingjing understood. The innocent tone in which Song Yuzhang described it made him momentarily dizzy, and he immediately ordered the housekeeper to purchase one.
Paid far more than local peers, the housekeeper worked diligently. The next day, he delivered a gigantic Christmas tree by truck. Once placed in the hall, its top nearly touched the crystal chandelier.
When Song Yuzhang awoke and descended the stairs, he was startled to see the enormous tree. Gathering his robe, he walked downstairs and had to crane his neck to see its peak.
It was richly decorated with lights and ribbons. Though unlit during the day, at night it would surely dazzle.
“Well?” Meng Tingjing came downstairs and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Isn’t it exactly like the one in the hotel?”
Slowly lowering his head, Song Yuzhang said tactfully, “It’s a bit big.”
“This is the largest Christmas tree in London,” Meng Tingjing declared.
What did he need one so big for? The small, exquisite one at the hotel had been lovely.
Satisfied, Meng Tingjing glanced up at it. “Christmas is in a couple of days. We can hang gifts on it. What do you want?”
Song Yuzhang thought: A gift… perhaps a smaller Christmas tree?
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