Song Yuzhang: Extra 19 - Argument [Featuring Meng Tingjing]
On the day of the sailing competition, Song Yuzhang’s team performed fairly mediocrely, not achieving any particularly impressive results. But then, participation was what mattered—it was all for fun.
When the team reached the shore, everyone was still happy, hugging each other in celebration. Song Yuzhang looked up toward the stands and noticed that Meng Tingjing, who had originally been sitting there, was no longer there.
“Song, you were amazing today! You look really slim, and the muscles on your arms are beautiful.”
Raymond reached out to pinch Song Yuzhang’s arm. Song Yuzhang pulled back his hand, casually responding with a few words before heading toward the stands to find someone.
As he got closer, he did indeed see Meng Tingjing.
Today, Meng Tingjing wore a light blue shirt with a deep blue pointed-collar sweater, looking fresh and pleasant as he spoke with a few people.
Song Yuzhang watched from afar. After a moment, Meng Tingjing seemed to notice his gaze, turned his head, and their eyes met. Meng Tingjing gave him a slight nod, then turned back to say a few words to the others before walking toward Song Yuzhang.
The group also turned their attention toward Song Yuzhang. He observed them and realized it was three men and one woman, all foreigners, with uniformly outstanding appearances and refined temperaments.
“Who are they?” Song Yuzhang asked curiously as Meng Tingjing approached.
“They were classmates from Cambridge,” Meng Tingjing replied.
“Here specifically to see you?”
“No, they came to watch the sailing competition.”
“Oh,” Song Yuzhang said with a smile. “You’re pretty popular at school, huh?”
“It’s just a courtesy greeting.”
“I heard you used to get into fights at university. Did any of them ever take a beating from you?”
“I don’t remember.”
Song Yuzhang shook his head smiling. Just then, the three men and the woman walked over. As they got closer, Meng Tingjing frowned.
“Edmund, who’s this?”
Meng Tingjing didn’t want to explain to foreigners that Song Yuzhang was his brother, but he had no choice: “My brother.”
“Wow,” the group exaggerated in expression. “What a handsome gentleman!”
Song Yuzhang greeted them, exchanged a few pleasantries, while Meng Tingjing seemed increasingly impatient. Song Yuzhang was still curious when one of them said, “Edmund, don’t rush off. Marlene really wants to see you.”
At that, everyone laughed, especially the brown-haired girl, whose smile was particularly radiant.
Song Yuzhang turned to look at Meng Tingjing, who replied coldly: “Thanks, but no need.”
“Edmund, you haven’t changed at all—still so aloof,” the brown-haired girl smiled. “That aloofness is charming. Edmund’s brother, don’t you agree?”
Being addressed directly, Song Yuzhang raised an eyebrow and looked at Meng Tingjing with a half-smile: “Yes.”
They all chatted briefly, and the girl named Marlene wanted to leave a business card. Meng Tingjing kept his hands in his pockets, showing no intention of taking it, so Song Yuzhang took it. After the group left, he glanced at the card and chuckled: “Smells like perfume.”
Meng Tingjing snatched the card from his fingers, crumpled it, and threw it into the trash. “Any more races?”
“They already finished. Didn’t you watch?”
“I did,” Meng Tingjing said. “That Raymond performed terribly.”
Song Yuzhang smiled. “Was he? He wasn’t that bad.”
The team gathered again, and their family members also met each other. Meng Tingjing, acting as the elder, greeted the others’ parents formally, effectively raising his own seniority.
At noon, they had a restaurant reservation. Meng Tingjing drove Song Yuzhang there. On the way, Song Yuzhang said, “You didn’t seem very happy meeting your old classmates just now?”
“It’s not about being happy or not; I’m not familiar with them.”
“Really?” Song Yuzhang smiled. “But that girl seemed quite close to you.”
“We’re not. We never spoke more than a few words at school.”
“That’s all in the past. Just be honest,” Song Yuzhang said, clearly amused. “I won’t get jealous.”
Meng Tingjing glanced at him. “You’re generous.”
“Everyone has a past.”
“I don’t,” Meng Tingjing said, turning the car into a side street.
Song Yuzhang wasn’t interested in Meng Tingjing’s past. People should cherish the present; dwelling on the past only causes unnecessary trouble.
But Meng Tingjing’s unusually firm attitude made Song Yuzhang suspicious. If there’s something, why deny it?
He didn’t show it on his face or say anything. He wasn’t jealous, just slightly displeased with Meng Tingjing’s habit of hiding things.
Recently, Song Yuzhang had sensed that Meng Tingjing often concealed his thoughts from him.
Their life together was harmonious and sweet, but the sweetness always felt delicate, like thin sugar candy—fragile and easily broken.
Having gone through so much to be together, Song Yuzhang truly cherished their bond. He guessed Meng Tingjing felt the same, but perhaps both tried to maintain appearances, sometimes glossing over issues and leaving hidden problems.
He considered past relationships harmless. Since Meng Tingjing refused to speak of them, he let it go. Some things are better left unspoken.
Yet, once the thought is in mind, perceptions shift. Song Yuzhang noticed that Meng Tingjing was indeed displeased.
This displeasure was hidden in subtle details of everyday life, easily overlooked unless intentionally observed.
Song Yuzhang thought: I’m not upset—why is he secretly annoyed?
Flipping a page of the newspaper, he glanced at Meng Tingjing, who was reviewing documents. He nudged his slipper with his foot. “Thirsty.”
Meng Tingjing’s eyes were glued to the papers. Reluctantly, he set them down, went to pour water, and placed it beside Song Yuzhang.
Song Yuzhang flipped the newspaper. After a moment, he picked up the water and took a sip. “Hot.”
Meng Tingjing put the cup down, went to refill it.
Song Yuzhang drank again. “Cold.”
This time, Meng Tingjing finally looked up.
Song Yuzhang stared at him.
“What’s wrong?” Meng Tingjing asked calmly.
“I should be asking you that,” Song Yuzhang said.
“Me?”
“What’s going on with you lately? Acting strange,” Song Yuzhang glanced at him. “If something’s wrong, just say it. Don’t pretend.”
Meng Tingjing looked incredulous. “I’m acting strange? Pretending?”
Song Yuzhang, holding the newspaper, scanned him from top to bottom without courtesy. “You’re all pent-up and don’t know how to vent. If you can’t handle it, just say so.” He realized he was getting a little angry himself, tossed the newspaper onto the sofa, and stood up. “It’s ridiculous.”
Meng Tingjing froze for half a minute, then stood up too. “Song Yuzhang, stop right there.”
Song Yuzhang put his hands in his pockets and stomped upstairs. Meng Tingjing, holding back his irritation, followed. “Stop being ridiculous? Can’t handle it? Ridiculous?”
“Keeping everything bottled up inside really is pointless.”
Song Yuzhang didn’t even turn his head as he spoke.
Meng Tingjing’s chest burned with frustration as he trudged upstairs. What nonsense is he talking about?
Song Yuzhang finally turned to face him, expression stern. “Tingjing, it hasn’t been easy for us to get this far. Don’t be ungrateful.”
“Ungrateful? I’m ungrateful?”
“You know what I mean. If you don’t, then yes… you really are being ungrateful.”
“…”
Meng Tingjing nearly turned away in anger but slowly nodded. “Fine. I’m ungrateful. I’m ungrateful for getting jealous of those kids. That’s me being ungrateful!”
“That’s long past,” Song Yuzhang said sharply. “You and I both know I had nothing with them. What’s really bothering you is something else, isn’t it?”
Meng Tingjing’s face instantly flushed red. He paced a few steps back and forth before stopping to look at Song Yuzhang. Song Yuzhang stood with his hands behind his back, watching him calmly. The more Meng Tingjing thought about it, the angrier he got. Song Yuzhang was naturally open and carefree—living in the moment, not worrying about the past or future. But Meng Tingjing wasn’t like that.
He admitted he could pick things up and put them down, but he didn’t want Song Yuzhang to notice. Once a prodigal sees that someone close is trying to bind them, it becomes a heavy burden—something to avoid.
He didn’t want to make Song Yuzhang uncomfortable; he just wanted him to live happily without any burdens. And yet, Song Yuzhang still thought life was “pointless”? Didn’t want to keep going?
Meng Tingjing grew increasingly furious. Since meeting Song Yuzhang, his self-restraint had improved greatly, but if Song Yuzhang intentionally provoked him, he could still ignite instantly.
Suppressing his anger, Meng Tingjing said, “Then tell me, what do you think I’ve been hiding from you?”
Song Yuzhang hesitated slightly. His own irritation flickered briefly but had largely subsided after a few steps upstairs. As he’d said, it wasn’t easy to be together; the idea of ‘not being able to get along’ was just heat-of-the-moment words. Meng Tingjing’s temper could drive him crazy with just a word. Song Yuzhang sat down on the edge of the bed, speaking gently: “I know why you’re upset. That day, seeing your classmates, you were unhappy all along. I was only joking with you then. Why hide it from me? How I was in the past didn’t matter to you, and how you were in the past doesn’t matter to me. Since we’re together, wouldn’t it be better to be honest with each other?”
Hearing this, Meng Tingjing only grew angrier. “You think when I said I had no past, I was lying to you?”
“That’s a fact!” Meng Tingjing said decisively. “Before you, I never had anyone!”
“Then why get so upset over my little jokes?” Song Yuzhang asked.
“I’m upset because—”
Meng Tingjing abruptly stopped. Song Yuzhang immediately stood, pressing him: “Say it.”
Meng Tingjing pressed his lips together, brow furrowed, and turned to look out the window.
“Tingjing,” Song Yuzhang said softly, “we’ve been through so much. Is there really anything we can’t talk about?”
Meng Tingjing’s profile was pale and stern, his whole face clouded with gloom.
Song Yuzhang’s heart skipped a beat.
Could there really be some irreconcilable conflict between them?“
Tingjing,” he added with firmer tone, “if you still love me, just say it.”
“Tell me—why have you been upset all this time?”
“…”
Meng Tingjing’s face tensed. His hands in his pockets curled slightly. Song Yuzhang asked, “You really won’t say?”
“Fine.” Song Yuzhang nodded slightly and turned to leave.
Hearing footsteps, Meng Tingjing turned, followed, and reached out to grab Song Yuzhang’s arm. Song Yuzhang turned, eyes burning with real emotion. “Meng Tingjing, I didn’t expect you’d be hiding such a huge thing…”
“I want to marry you—”
Meng Tingjing ground out the words, cutting him off, “I want to marry you!”
Song Yuzhang froze.
“I want to marry you,” Meng Tingjing continued, now calmer, tone softening, “I want to tell everyone for certain that I’m married, that I have a family.”
His face remained cold, tinged with pride. “I can’t announce such a thing unilaterally without your consent. I won’t pressure you—I’ll convince myself…” He loosened his grip, chin slightly raised. “Isn’t that fair?”
Song Yuzhang blinked.
Meng Tingjing turned slightly to show him his profile.
Song Yuzhang blinked again; his long eyelashes fluttered softly.
The tension in the room slowly dissolved. Song Yuzhang clasped his hands behind his back, palms slightly sweaty. He reached out, lightly touching the back of Meng Tingjing’s hand. Meng Tingjing grabbed it firmly.
“…Saying life’s pointless really hurts,” Meng Tingjing said, lowering his face. “You really know how to wound me.”
Song Yuzhang reversed the grip. “That was said in anger.”
“Even in anger, there should be limits.”
“I thought you were hiding something from me, so yes, I got angry,” Song Yuzhang murmured. “You kept things from me—who else could I trust?”
Meng Tingjing squeezed his hand, pulling him close into an embrace.
They held each other quietly. Some things needed no words.
“Tingjing.”
“Hmm?”
“We seem to have a fight every so often.”
“…”
“It’s okay,” Song Yuzhang smiled. “At least this time, no hitting.”
“…”
“Argue at the head of the bed, make up at the foot,” Song Yuzhang said. Just then, Meng Tingjing lowered his gaze, eyes burning. Song Yuzhang reached up and nudged his chin. “Thirsty? I’ll get you some water.”
Meng Tingjing thought: Spare me, ancestor, no need for your royal service.
“I’ll go,” he said, releasing Song Yuzhang’s hand. “Hot or cold?”
“Warm.”
Meng Tingjing patted his butt. Song Yuzhang laughed, rubbing Meng Tingjing’s head and planting a playful kiss on top with a soft smack.
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