Song Yuzhang: Extra 13 - Snow Between the Brows [featuring Nie Xueping]
“Engaged?” Nie Xueping set down the scroll in his hand. “Qingyun, marriage is not child’s play.”
“I know marriage isn’t child’s play,” Nie Qingyun replied righteously. “That’s why I’m only getting engaged—I’m not marrying him.”
Nie Xueping shook his head slightly, picked the scroll back up, and lowered his gaze to read, clearly preparing to ignore his willful little sister.
As her elder brother, he knew Nie Qingyun’s temperament best. He didn’t know whether fate had misplaced her at birth, but this little sister of his was like a dandy, delighting in entanglements with handsome men. Seeing that she never truly suffered any loss, he simply turned a blind eye and let her be.
“Eldest Brother…” Nie Qingyun pulled a long face and wheedled stubbornly. “Just agree, won’t you? There’s no need for any grand ceremony—just the two families having a meal together. You won’t have to worry about anything else.”
Unmoved, Nie Xueping merely shifted slightly to the side.
Nie Qingyun wanted to snatch the scroll from his hand but didn’t dare go too far. She could only cling and pester, refusing to leave—until Nie Bonian came in. She swept him up into her arms and laughed. “Eldest Brother, if you don’t agree, don’t blame me for being impolite—I’ve got a hostage.”
Nie Xueping turned his face, folding the scroll against his abdomen. His gaze swept over her—gentle, yet faintly oppressive. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Oh, Eldest Brother, it’s my engagement, not yours. Why won’t you agree?” Nie Qingyun kissed Nie Bonain’s cheek. “Good Bonian, help me beg Eldest Brother, won’t you?”
Nie Bonian, half-understanding, blinked. “Little Aunt, you’re getting engaged?”
Nie Qingyun smiled and kissed him again. “That’s right. I’m getting engaged—to your Second Uncle from the Song family. What do you think? Do you like him?”
“I like him.” Nie Bonian nodded obediently. He liked people who were good-looking. All the uncles in the Song family were handsome, so he liked them all.
Nie Qingyun beamed at Nie Xueping. “Well, Eldest Brother? Even Bonian agrees. Just give your blessing.”
Nie Xueping rose and walked over. Nie Bonian, as if by instinct, released his arms from around Nie Qingyun and stretched them toward his father.
“Hmph, Xiao Bonian—once you see Eldest Brother, you don’t want your little aunt anymore.”
Settling into Nie Xueping’s arms, Nie Bonian gave a drowsy smile. “Daddy, tell me a story.”
“Go back for now,” Nie Xueping said softly, stroking the boy’s supple back. “We’ll talk about the engagement tomorrow.”
That meant there was room for discussion. Delighted, Nie Qingyun lifted her skirt hem in a playful curtsy. “Thank you for your understanding. Farewell.”
Watching his sister’s drifting figure disappear, Nie Xueping kept shaking his head. Nie Bonian didn’t understand. “Daddy, you don’t like Second Uncle Song?”
“Nothing like that.”
Nie Xueping carried him inside.
“Second Uncle Song is very handsome. I like him.”
“Don’t judge people by their looks.”
Nie Bonian stuck out his tongue, resting his little face against Nie Xueping’s shoulder, and let out a soft yawn. “Daddy, I want to go to the hospital tomorrow.”
Nie Xueping laid him on the bed and touched his forehead, feeling no heat. “Are you feeling unwell?”
Nie Bonian wriggled deeper into the covers and shook his head. His big eyes blinked shyly. “I want to see that pretty brother again.”
Nie Xueping paused slightly. In his mind flashed a radiant smiling face.
Lowering his head, he tucked the blanket around the boy. “If it’s meant to be, you’ll meet again.”
He hadn’t expected fate to arrive so suddenly.
At Nie Qingyun’s almost farcical engagement banquet with Song Yekang.
Bonian’s excited reaction concealed the shock that struck him in that instant.
So it turned out to be the Fifth Young Master of the Song family.
Nie Xueping was busy with affairs and rarely spared attention for the matters of other families in Haizhou. Before attending the banquet, he had heard from Nie Qingyun that the Song family had a new young master. At the time, he had merely taken note of the information to avoid awkwardness upon arrival, without giving it much thought.
He had never imagined that Song Yuzhang was the handsome young man who had turned back and smiled at him in the hospital.
Nie Xueping avoided his gaze—just a fleeting touch, like a dragonfly skimming water—before hastily looking away.
“Daddy, Brother Yuzhang is really good-looking,” Nie Bonian tugged at his sleeve in the carriage, his face full of lingering excitement. “Tomorrow I want to go play with Brother Yuzhang again.”
Nie Xueping stroked the crown of his head. “You have lessons tomorrow.”
“I can go after class.”
Nie Xueping fell silent for a long time. His large palm slid through his son’s smooth hair. With a soundless sigh, he lowered his head and kissed the top of the boy’s head. “He’s just returned to Haizhou. He has many things to take care of. Don’t disturb him.”
Nie Bonian’s lips pouted slightly, but he obediently murmured, “Oh.”
Holding his son, Nie Xueping gazed intently at the passing scenery outside the window.
In the height of summer, Haizhou was splendid everywhere—green trees and red blossoms, each scene vivid and luxuriant, spreading along the streets like richly painted oil canvases.
Without realizing it, Nie Xueping drifted into a trance.
When the car finally stopped and Nie Mao came to open the door, Nie Xueping stepped out carrying Nie Bonian, only then noticing that his back was damp with sweat.
Nie Bonian had fallen asleep in the car. Not waking him, Nie Xueping carried him lightly back inside, laid him on the bed, and tucked him in. Then he sat by the bedside, quietly watching his son’s sleeping face.
When asleep, Nie Bonian’s cheeks were rosy, the picture of a healthy and adorable child.
Nie Xueping reached out, his fingers brushing lightly across the boy’s cheek. The softness of the touch reminded him, more vividly and clearly than anything else, that he was already the father of a five-year-old child.
He kissed Nie Bonian’s forehead, then turned to look at the swaying green trees outside the window. His heart felt very calm.
Recently, there had been minor accidents at the mines again. Nie Xueping understood that with various powers carving up the territory, the waters were murky indeed. He had devoted himself to handling the mine’s affairs, so busy he barely had time to sleep. Now that matters were more or less settled, and he could finally rest, and the surroundings truly quieted down, he sat on the sofa in his room—only to find sleep still eluded him.
After sitting in silence for a long while, he pinched the bridge of his nose, which felt tight, and rose to the desk. Picking up a brush, he wrote two pieces of calligraphy.
The writing was poor—his mind unsettled, impatient, lacking form.
He set down the brush and sat in the zitan chair. Another long stretch of stillness followed, yet he remained sleepless.
Since he couldn’t sleep, he might as well indulge in a small diversion.
When Nie Xueping picked up the carving knife, Song Yuzhang did not appear in his mind.
Or rather, ever since that hurried meeting at the engagement banquet, Nie Xueping had not thought of Song Yuzhang again.
But when the rough outline of the carved character emerged, Nie Xueping froze.
“Yu.”
The sharp tip of the carving knife pressed against the soft jade—right at the final stroke, landing at the end of the character, sealing the matter with a decisive blow, leaving no room for reversal.
Nie Xueping held the carving knife in his hand, and all the deliberate attempts to forget from that period were rendered meaningless.
The piece of jade in his hand seemed almost alive. The young man’s smile flickered in and out of view; that faintly curved expression seemed to exist either on the jade itself or between his fingers.
Nie Xueping set down the carving knife and the nearly finished seal, letting out a long, troubled sigh as his brows remained tightly furrowed.
The emergence of this feeling—whether in terms of the person or the timing—was entirely inappropriate.
Such a young boy—and, of all things, a boy.
Nie Xueping clasped both hands together and forcefully ran them over his face.
Nie Xueping, stay clear-headed.
Their ages, their statuses, their genders… everything about it was wrong.
A father of a five-year-old child suddenly falling in love with a boy barely twenty years old—it sounded almost indecent.
He wiped his face again, and felt something close to shame.
But in the end, it seemed to be nothing more than unrequited love.
Nie Xueping smiled wryly and shook his head. He thought he was being utterly ridiculous. At his age, he was still behaving like a young, inexperienced man, quietly nursing a crush all on his own. Perhaps Song Yuzhang had already forgotten about him entirely.
Picking up the carving knife and the soft jade again, Nie Xueping felt that this was actually fine. One-sided feelings could be controlled. Perhaps, given enough time, they would gradually fade. Such fleeting sparks flared up fiercely when they came and disappeared even faster when they went. Since that was the case, he might as well follow his heart and allow himself to warm himself briefly in this short-lived blaze.
The blade moved, carving with meticulous strokes. With each cut, Nie Xueping’s mind gradually settled. At that moment, he thought of nothing—he simply carved the “jade seal.”
Nie Bonian found the “jade seal” on the desk.
“Dad,” he said happily, holding it up, “is this a gift for Brother Yuzhang?”
Nie Xueping turned his head. He was rolling up a painting, and at the question, his expression and gaze stilled for a moment.
“This seal is so beautiful.”
Nie Bonian tilted his head to look at the carved characters. “It suits Brother Yuzhang so well. He’ll definitely like it.”
Nie Xueping had never intended to give this seal to Song Yuzhang.
He thought it might be too abrupt.
But on second thought, Song Yuzhang probably wouldn’t imagine that someone he had only met twice could harbor such feelings for him—nor would he imagine that this seal had been meticulously carved stroke by stroke under lamplight every night.
Nie Xueping rolled up the painting and said, “Then take it.”
Willpower is a consumable resource.
At their third meeting at a banquet, Nie Xueping could not help but speak to Song Yuzhang. He did not know what to say, so he began with their shared school connection. Even as he spoke, he found it uninteresting himself, and it was no wonder Song Yuzhang seemed indifferent.
Nie Xueping was not someone poor at social interaction; in business he was measured, composed, and adept at handling people with ease. Yet when facing Song Yuzhang, he genuinely found himself at a loss for words.
Fragrant scents drifted through the surroundings. He turned his gaze into the night; wind stirred the flowers. His hand behind his back flexed slightly at the knuckles. Just as he turned back, about to say something more—perhaps by coincidence, or perhaps because Song Yuzhang had sensed something—Song Yuzhang also turned his head.
Their eyes met. Only for a brief moment. Their gazes touched and separated almost instantly. Yet in that fleeting instant, Nie Xueping finally confirmed it.
Even a single spark was not so easily extinguished.
So long as there was even a trace of lingering thought in the heart, those sparks would always have fuel. At certain moments, those seemingly insignificant flames that appeared ready to vanish at any time would suddenly flare up, leaving one both astonished and suddenly enlightened. So a sudden infatuation was not necessarily shallow or short-lived after all.
It was only the beginning—a seed. What it would grow into, no one could say. Not even he himself could control it.
What would it ultimately become?
Nie Xueping walked side by side with Song Yuzhang. He lowered his gaze slightly, half of his body immersed in the flowers, the other half brushing faintly against Song Yuzhang’s shoulder. The scent on Song Yuzhang’s body overwhelmed the fragrance of the surrounding blossoms, clinging to him stubbornly and endlessly.
“Mr. Nie, then I’ll go in first.”
Nie Xueping nodded slightly.
Song Yuzhang smiled at him again and gave a slight bow. “Goodbye.”
Nie Xueping watched him walk into the banquet hall and stood in the cool night breeze for a long while. The faint scent of Song Yuzhang still lingered around him.
Behind his back, his thumb slowly rubbed against his index finger. There were still tiny cuts and calluses there—marks left from carving late into the night. They were almost invisible to the eye; even Nie Bonian had not noticed them. Only when he sought them out and touched them himself did a faint numb, tingling pain become clearly apparent.
Nie Xueping rubbed his fingers for a long time. Then suddenly, he smiled and shook his head.
That seed might grow into a flower, or into a tree, or it might come to nothing at all—who could know? In any case, it had already been planted in his heart and could no longer be removed.
So he would let it be. Whatever it grew into, he would think it was fine. Very fine indeed.
----------
If you like my translation, please support me by buying me a coffee:
0 comments: