Song Yuzhang: Extra 20 - Quiet in the Courtyard [Featuring Meng Tingjing]
That summer, it was time for Song Yuzhang to apply to university. Xiao Fengxian happened to return from Paris to rest and acted as his advisor. After two years of learning his craft in Paris, his spirits had recovered quite a bit. His speech was still somewhat halting, but at least he was willing to talk now—he loved to chat and laugh, full of energy—and Song Yuzhang was very happy to see him.
The two of them got together, chatting animatedly and joking around. Xiao Fengxian seemed to have picked up some new habits in Paris; he leaned in close to Song Yuzhang, pressing their cheeks together in an intimate, affectionate way. Down in the garden, Meng Tingjing was speaking with a servant. Hearing the laughter, he tilted his head slightly upward. Song Yuzhang rested his hand on the upstairs railing, felt Meng Tingjing’s gaze, and leaned down to meet his eyes with a smile, thinking, “This big vinegar jar—jealous again.”
But Meng Tingjing wasn’t jealous of Xiao Fengxian. The relationship between Xiao Fengxian and Song Yuzhang wasn’t that sort of thing; he wasn’t so petty as to begrudge even Xiao Fengxian.
Over these two years in England, Song Yuzhang had been unexpectedly “well-behaved.” On second thought, Meng Tingjing realized that Song Yuzhang simply lacked persistence, but he had never done anything like juggling two relationships at once. There was no need for him to be so tense.
Looking down at Meng Tingjing’s glossy black hair from above, Song Yuzhang suddenly smiled, feeling inexplicably cheerful.
Some time ago, Meng Sushan had gone traveling with Wan Lan and even saw an erupting volcano. The volcano lay at the foot of a glacier—a remarkably surreal sight—which left the sisters exclaiming in amazement.
Today was a large gathering. Meng Tingjing personally reviewed the menu, and after confirming everything was in order, returned inside. The Meng family sisters hadn’t seen this second brother in a long time, yet they didn’t particularly miss him; they were still gathered around their eldest sister Meng Sushan, chatting and laughing.
The manor was lively both upstairs and downstairs, and there wasn’t really anywhere suitable to go. Meng Tingjing slipped his hands into his pockets and, unconcerned, wandered into the kitchen to watch the head chef cook.
The head chef had been living abroad for two years, far from home, yet still didn’t know a word of any foreign language. Fortunately, life in this grand estate meant he was always surrounded by his own people, so there was no real need for it.
When Meng Tingjing entered, the chef grew nervous, awkwardly rubbing his hands on his apron. “Second Master, it’s smoky in here—better you go outside.”
After being politely ushered out of the kitchen, Meng Tingjing realized for the first time that he didn’t seem particularly welcome in his own home.
Fortunately, as he had grown older, his temperament had become much more restrained. Since that was the case, he went alone back to the garden. At that moment, a black Mercedes slowly drove through the iron gates. The moment Meng Tingjing saw the car, he stopped and turned back.
It was Nie Qingyun’s car.
Ever since Nie Qingyun learned that Nie Yinbing had joined the army, she had been unable to let it go. She had tried in every way to gather news from back home, but the country was in chaos—conflicts above and below ground, open and covert—and many people, not just Nie Yinbing, had no visible trace.
With no other choice, Nie Qingyun could only comfort herself: no news was good news. No matter how fierce the fighting, there would eventually be a resolution. When that time came, she would decide what to do. If the situation improved, she would return home to find Nie Yinbing, asking Song Yuzhang to look after Nie Bonian in the meantime, to which Song Yuzhang naturally agreed.
Originally, this was nothing significant, and Meng Tingjing didn’t mind. But for some reason, Nie Qingyun was particularly sharp and sarcastic toward him. Meng Tingjing was a clever man; after a few exchanges, he understood her unspoken meaning—Nie Yinbing was better than him, or at the very least, more suitable for Song Yuzhang.
Hearing this, Meng Tingjing almost let out a snort.
Nie Yinbing? With that mouth of his?
What a joke.
Meng Tingjing dismissed it inwardly and couldn’t be bothered to argue with Nie Qingyun. Out of sight, out of mind—he simply ignored her.
Nie Qingyun had brought Nie Bonian along for dinner.
The manor’s large table was rarely so full. Meng Sushan sat at the head, as she had been managing things in London all this time. Meng Tingjing spent most of his time accompanying Song Yuzhang in Cambridge; even after returning to London, he had no desire to assert himself as head of the household. He would rather sit beside Song Yuzhang.
Meng Sushan loved liveliness. Seeing the whole family gathered together, a satisfied smile appeared on her face. Occasionally, she would think of Song Jincheng—just think of him, of how she had once loved him so obsessively. It had become a fond memory.
And now, this was an even better time.
At the dining table, Nie Qingyun announced, “Once the weather cools a bit, Bonian will undergo surgery.”
Song Yuzhang paused with his chopsticks and looked at Nie Bonian. Since coming to England, the boy had grown quickly; almost every time they met, Song Yuzhang felt he had grown again. As he got older, Nie Bonian became more refined. At that moment, he gave Song Yuzhang a slight smile.
“Everything’s been prepared?” Song Yuzhang asked.
Nie Bonian nodded. “The doctor said my condition is good enough for surgery now.”
“The earlier, the better. While he’s still young—it only gets harder as he grows older,” Nie Qingyun said.
Song Yuzhang set down his chopsticks. “Surgery… is there risk?”
“There’s no such thing as a risk-free surgery,” Nie Qingyun replied. “Even the doctor won’t guarantee it. But the risk isn’t very high. Mr. Smith is an authority in this field—under his care, the success rate won’t be lower than sixty percent.”
Sixty percent? Song Yuzhang frowned slightly; that didn’t sound very high.
“Has the date been decided?” Meng Tingjing asked.
“Roughly. Around September. As long as it’s not too hot, we’ll proceed. Mr. Smith has already cleared his schedule.”
“Since you’ve thought it through, then I wish the surgery success.”
“Thank you for the kind words, Boss Meng.”
Caught between their back-and-forth, Song Yuzhang waited until they finished speaking, then pressed his hand on the table. “Bonian, come with me for a moment.”
The manor had three gardens. One of the smaller ones was the most delicate and picturesque, with a swing hanging there. Since returning to London, Song Yuzhang would often sit on it and read when he had free time.
He led Nie Bonian to sit on the swing and took his hand, examining it.
You could tell a lot about a person’s health just by looking at their hands.
Nie Bonian’s hands were slender and long, already beginning to take shape; when he grew up, they would likely be large. His nails were pale pink with a faint hint of purple. Song Yuzhang held his hand and squeezed it gently. “Such a big matter as surgery—why didn’t you discuss it with me?”
Nie Bonian said, “Aunt wanted to tell you. I was the one who stopped her.”
“Why?”
Nie Bonian lowered his head, looking at their joined hands, and said softly, “Brother Yuzhang, you have your own things to be busy with. I can take care of myself.”
Song Yuzhang was silent for a moment. He pulled Nie Bonian into his arms and sighed. “Bonian, no matter how busy I am, I won’t ignore your matters. Don’t say things like that again—it sounds too distant.”
Nie Bonian wrapped his arms around him. Song Yuzhang smelled pleasant—like plants, with a hint of food. Though his body had always been weak, his mind was unusually mature for his age. “Brother Yuzhang, thank you for caring about me. I can take care of myself—don’t worry about me. If you don’t worry about me, then I feel like we’re truly good friends.”
Song Yuzhang fell silent after hearing this. Then he turned his head and kissed Nie Bonian lightly on the cheek. “Alright. Then I won’t worry.”
Nie Bonian smiled and grasped his fingers. “You’ll come on the day of the surgery, right?”
“Of course.”
“Mm,” Nie Bonian said. “I want you to be the first to see me at my healthiest.”
Song Yuzhang hugged him again. “You’re that close to Brother Yuzhang?”
Nie Bonian tilted his head up slightly in his arms, smiling brightly. “Yes—I like Brother Yuzhang the most!”
After the banquet ended, Song Yuzhang went upstairs, still uneasy. He spoke at length to Meng Tingjing, who listened patiently.
“The more sensible Bonian is, the worse I feel,” Song Yuzhang said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Meng Tingjing walked over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding him half in his embrace. “Since he’s so sensible, don’t let his sincerity go to waste. Stop worrying about him. Children have their own fortunes—look at Liu Chu. After suffering so much, isn’t he lively and well now? As for Doctor Smith, I know his background—he’s very capable. What seems like a huge matter to you is just a routine operation in his hands. He’ll handle it with ease.”
Song Yuzhang sighed. “I hope so.”
Meng Tingjing lowered his head and kissed the top of his hair. “Don’t worry. Nothing will happen.”
Meng Tingjing truly hoped that Nie Bonian’s surgery would go smoothly. If there was anyone in this world who least wanted anything to happen to Nie Bonian, he believed he could rank among the top three.
If anything did happen, with Song Yuzhang’s temperament, he would surely be depressed for a long time. It had taken great effort for Song Yuzhang to accept the reality that Nie Yinbing’s whereabouts were unknown—nothing more could happen to the Nie family.
Song Yuzhang always carried a sense of guilt toward the Nie family. Meng Tingjing knew that although he didn’t have much affection for them, he still cared about Song Yuzhang. So he hoped Nie Qingyun and Nie Bonian would live long lives and cause as little trouble as possible.
When it came to choosing a university, Song Yuzhang hesitated for quite some time. His academic performance was excellent; he was confident in getting into whichever school he chose.
As an alumnus, Meng Tingjing strongly recommended Cambridge, even throwing Oxford’s materials straight into the trash.
Song Yuzhang couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time, saying he might not necessarily stay in England for his studies.
He was the type who got bored staying in one place for too long.
The moment he said that, Meng Tingjing immediately felt a sense of crisis again. “You find Cambridge boring?”
“A little.”
Not just Cambridge—even England itself had begun to bore him. The miserable weather here was far worse than back home.
After a moment’s consideration, Meng Tingjing decisively abandoned his alma mater. “Then let’s look at universities abroad.”
Anyway, he didn’t mind—wherever Song Yuzhang went, he would go too. Since things felt dull, they might as well change the environment. He could accompany Song Yuzhang in seeking something new.
“I want to go to America,” Song Yuzhang said, pulling out a long strip of cards. “Third Brother left me some American stocks. Come to think of it, I’ve never even been to the U.S.”
“There are plenty of good schools in America. Take your time choosing. Once you’ve decided, let me know—I’ll go ahead first and make arrangements.”
“Mm, I’ll take a look… Which places in America are fun? I might as well study somewhere interesting.”
Like most students, Song Yuzhang cared more about having fun than studying.
“Then New York would be livelier.”
“That works too.”
After some time, Song Yuzhang sent applications to several schools he liked. A month later, the replies came—unsurprisingly, he was accepted. Meng Tingjing immediately set off for New York to purchase property and brought the head chef along as well, so he could adapt to life in America in advance.
In August, Song Yuzhang personally went to New York and also checked on several stocks that Song Qiyuan had once managed for him.
Stocks had cost Song Zhenqiao his life, so Song Qiyuan was extremely cautious when dealing with them. After making profits, he would withdraw immediately, leaving only a small portion still invested.
Meng Tingjing, being in traditional industry, had always kept his distance from stocks and finance. After Song Yuzhang came out, he asked, “Well?”
“Nothing remarkable,” Song Yuzhang said with a smile, shaking his head. “Third Brother was quite whimsical—you’d never guess which stock he bought. It was his favorite foreign soda.”
“Investing in soda stock?” Meng Tingjing laughed. “That does sound like him.”
“Forget it, just leave it there. It’s only around a hundred thousand anyway—let it stay as a keepsake,” Song Yuzhang said with some emotion. “Third Brother didn’t want to come abroad, and now we can’t even reach him.”
Meng Tingjing disliked seeing him grow sentimental and patted his shoulder. “He’s probably roaming around the country like Xu Xiake, enjoying himself too much to think of anything else.”
Song Yuzhang smiled faintly. “Probably.”
By the end of August, the weather turned cooler, and Nie Bonian was admitted to a hospital in London in preparation for surgery.
Naturally, Song Yuzhang stayed by his side.
Nie Bonian’s condition was good, and the doctors were confident. Before entering the operating room, Song Yuzhang leaned close to him, gently stroking his cheek. “Bonian, don’t be afraid. Your father will be watching over you from heaven.”
Nie Bonian’s eyes curved into a smile. “Mm, I’m not afraid.”
Once he was taken into surgery, Song Yuzhang sat down on a bench as if all his strength had left him, admitting that he was still uneasy and worried.
The operation lasted a long time, from morning until afternoon. When the light finally turned green, Song Yuzhang immediately stood up. Nie Qingyun rushed forward first. “Doctor—”
The surgeon removed his mask, a tired smile on his face. “The surgery was very successful.”
Song Yuzhang let out a long breath of relief. Meng Tingjing steadied him, and when Song Yuzhang turned his head, he saw Meng Tingjing smiling—his eyes filled with genuine joy. Song Yuzhang couldn’t help but smile as well.
“It’s alright now.”
“It’s alright,” Song Yuzhang said, pressing Meng Tingjing’s hand. “I… I’m going to the restroom…”
He turned and went into the restroom, leaning against the wall as if a great weight had been lifted. After taking several deep breaths, he slowly smiled again, feeling as though the world before him had been freshly repainted—a bright, beautiful new world.
Thank goodness. Thank goodness.
“Hello?”
Song Yuzhang snapped out of it as if waking from a dream. Inside the restroom stood a young Chinese doctor in a white coat, smiling at him. The man was tall and handsome. At first glance, Song Yuzhang felt he looked somewhat familiar.
“Are you alright?” the man asked in English when he saw Song Yuzhang standing there blankly. “Do you need any help?”
“No, I’m fine,” Song Yuzhang replied in Chinese with a smile. “Thank you.” His gaze flicked briefly over the man’s name badge—and then froze.
“Take care.”
The man passed by him and left. Song Yuzhang stood there for a moment before washing his hands and going back out. Meng Tingjing had already brought him some warm water. “Drink this first.”
Song Yuzhang took the cup and sipped, then hooked his arm around Meng Tingjing’s neck and pulled him closer to whisper.
“I think I just ran into ‘Fifth Young Master Song.’”
Song Yuzhang said in a low voice.
Meng Tingjing glanced at him.
“He’s an intern doctor. I met him in the restroom.”
“So you met him—so what?” Meng Tingjing said indifferently. “He doesn’t know you. And you’re not Fifth Young Master Song anymore. He’s him, you’re you—there’s no connection.”
Song Yuzhang hummed softly. Thinking about it, it did feel strangely fascinating. He took another sip of warm water, wondering what the real Fifth Young Master Song actually looked like—someone familiar… who did he resemble? A pair of focused, devout eyes flashed through his mind, and his lashes trembled slightly.
“Hungry? Porridge will be delivered from home soon.”
“Alright…” Song Yuzhang came back to himself. “Did you ask them to make extra? Sister Qingyun hasn’t eaten anything either.”
Meng Tingjing straightened and said coldly, “No.”
Song Yuzhang smiled helplessly. Meng Tingjing, seeing no one around, reached out and ruffled his hair, casting him a sidelong, proud glance. “Of course, I prepared extra. Do you take me for that small-minded? Don’t judge a gentleman by a petty man’s standards.”
The corner of Song Yuzhang’s lips curved in a half-smile. “A gentleman’s standards? Then, dear gentleman, do finish your sentence.”
With his hands behind his back, Meng Tingjing strolled forward leisurely. “Good things aren’t said twice.”
Song Yuzhang followed, looping an arm around his neck again. “Oh? So ‘I want to marry you’ isn’t a good thing to say?”
“…”
Meng Tingjing hooked his arm back around him and suddenly blew into his ear. “I didn’t say it twice—I said it three times!”
“Hahaha.”
“So… what do you think?”
“…I haven’t decided yet.”
“You can take your time,” Meng Tingjing said, pulling him along. “I’m not in a hurry…”
Song Yuzhang smiled as he walked with an arm over Meng Tingjing’s shoulder. He thought to himself that, given Meng Tingjing’s temperament, if he didn’t agree, the man would probably keep saying it for the rest of his life—following behind him day after day, year after year, arguing with him about whether he would marry him… Song Yuzhang shook his head lightly with a soft laugh. Strangely, he didn’t find it annoying at all—instead, it felt rather interesting.
“What are you laughing at?” Meng Tingjing asked, seeing his mysterious smile.
Song Yuzhang turned his head and smiled at him again. “Laughing at you—how cute!”
Song Yuzhang hugged him again. “You’re that close to Brother Yuzhang?”
Nie Bonian tilted his head up slightly in his arms, smiling brightly. “Yes—I like Brother Yuzhang the most!”
After the banquet ended, Song Yuzhang went upstairs, still uneasy. He spoke at length to Meng Tingjing, who listened patiently.
“The more sensible Bonian is, the worse I feel,” Song Yuzhang said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Meng Tingjing walked over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding him half in his embrace. “Since he’s so sensible, don’t let his sincerity go to waste. Stop worrying about him. Children have their own fortunes—look at Liu Chu. After suffering so much, isn’t he lively and well now? As for Doctor Smith, I know his background—he’s very capable. What seems like a huge matter to you is just a routine operation in his hands. He’ll handle it with ease.”
Song Yuzhang sighed. “I hope so.”
Meng Tingjing lowered his head and kissed the top of his hair. “Don’t worry. Nothing will happen.”
Meng Tingjing truly hoped that Nie Bonian’s surgery would go smoothly. If there was anyone in this world who least wanted anything to happen to Nie Bonian, he believed he could rank among the top three.
If anything did happen, with Song Yuzhang’s temperament, he would surely be depressed for a long time. It had taken great effort for Song Yuzhang to accept the reality that Nie Yinbing’s whereabouts were unknown—nothing more could happen to the Nie family.
Song Yuzhang always carried a sense of guilt toward the Nie family. Meng Tingjing knew that although he didn’t have much affection for them, he still cared about Song Yuzhang. So he hoped Nie Qingyun and Nie Bonian would live long lives and cause as little trouble as possible.
When it came to choosing a university, Song Yuzhang hesitated for quite some time. His academic performance was excellent; he was confident in getting into whichever school he chose.
As an alumnus, Meng Tingjing strongly recommended Cambridge, even throwing Oxford’s materials straight into the trash.
Song Yuzhang couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time, saying he might not necessarily stay in England for his studies.
He was the type who got bored staying in one place for too long.
The moment he said that, Meng Tingjing immediately felt a sense of crisis again. “You find Cambridge boring?”
“A little.”
Not just Cambridge—even England itself had begun to bore him. The miserable weather here was far worse than back home.
After a moment’s consideration, Meng Tingjing decisively abandoned his alma mater. “Then let’s look at universities abroad.”
Anyway, he didn’t mind—wherever Song Yuzhang went, he would go too. Since things felt dull, they might as well change the environment. He could accompany Song Yuzhang in seeking something new.
“I want to go to America,” Song Yuzhang said, pulling out a long strip of cards. “Third Brother left me some American stocks. Come to think of it, I’ve never even been to the U.S.”
“There are plenty of good schools in America. Take your time choosing. Once you’ve decided, let me know—I’ll go ahead first and make arrangements.”
“Mm, I’ll take a look… Which places in America are fun? I might as well study somewhere interesting.”
Like most students, Song Yuzhang cared more about having fun than studying.
“Then New York would be livelier.”
“That works too.”
After some time, Song Yuzhang sent applications to several schools he liked. A month later, the replies came—unsurprisingly, he was accepted. Meng Tingjing immediately set off for New York to purchase property and brought the head chef along as well, so he could adapt to life in America in advance.
In August, Song Yuzhang personally went to New York and also checked on several stocks that Song Qiyuan had once managed for him.
Stocks had cost Song Zhenqiao his life, so Song Qiyuan was extremely cautious when dealing with them. After making profits, he would withdraw immediately, leaving only a small portion still invested.
Meng Tingjing, being in traditional industry, had always kept his distance from stocks and finance. After Song Yuzhang came out, he asked, “Well?”
“Nothing remarkable,” Song Yuzhang said with a smile, shaking his head. “Third Brother was quite whimsical—you’d never guess which stock he bought. It was his favorite foreign soda.”
“Investing in soda stock?” Meng Tingjing laughed. “That does sound like him.”
“Forget it, just leave it there. It’s only around a hundred thousand anyway—let it stay as a keepsake,” Song Yuzhang said with some emotion. “Third Brother didn’t want to come abroad, and now we can’t even reach him.”
Meng Tingjing disliked seeing him grow sentimental and patted his shoulder. “He’s probably roaming around the country like Xu Xiake, enjoying himself too much to think of anything else.”
Song Yuzhang smiled faintly. “Probably.”
By the end of August, the weather turned cooler, and Nie Bonian was admitted to a hospital in London in preparation for surgery.
Naturally, Song Yuzhang stayed by his side.
Nie Bonian’s condition was good, and the doctors were confident. Before entering the operating room, Song Yuzhang leaned close to him, gently stroking his cheek. “Bonian, don’t be afraid. Your father will be watching over you from heaven.”
Nie Bonian’s eyes curved into a smile. “Mm, I’m not afraid.”
Once he was taken into surgery, Song Yuzhang sat down on a bench as if all his strength had left him, admitting that he was still uneasy and worried.
The operation lasted a long time, from morning until afternoon. When the light finally turned green, Song Yuzhang immediately stood up. Nie Qingyun rushed forward first. “Doctor—”
The surgeon removed his mask, a tired smile on his face. “The surgery was very successful.”
Song Yuzhang let out a long breath of relief. Meng Tingjing steadied him, and when Song Yuzhang turned his head, he saw Meng Tingjing smiling—his eyes filled with genuine joy. Song Yuzhang couldn’t help but smile as well.
“It’s alright now.”
“It’s alright,” Song Yuzhang said, pressing Meng Tingjing’s hand. “I… I’m going to the restroom…”
He turned and went into the restroom, leaning against the wall as if a great weight had been lifted. After taking several deep breaths, he slowly smiled again, feeling as though the world before him had been freshly repainted—a bright, beautiful new world.
Thank goodness. Thank goodness.
“Hello?”
Song Yuzhang snapped out of it as if waking from a dream. Inside the restroom stood a young Chinese doctor in a white coat, smiling at him. The man was tall and handsome. At first glance, Song Yuzhang felt he looked somewhat familiar.
“Are you alright?” the man asked in English when he saw Song Yuzhang standing there blankly. “Do you need any help?”
“No, I’m fine,” Song Yuzhang replied in Chinese with a smile. “Thank you.” His gaze flicked briefly over the man’s name badge—and then froze.
“Take care.”
The man passed by him and left. Song Yuzhang stood there for a moment before washing his hands and going back out. Meng Tingjing had already brought him some warm water. “Drink this first.”
Song Yuzhang took the cup and sipped, then hooked his arm around Meng Tingjing’s neck and pulled him closer to whisper.
“I think I just ran into ‘Fifth Young Master Song.’”
Song Yuzhang said in a low voice.
Meng Tingjing glanced at him.
“He’s an intern doctor. I met him in the restroom.”
“So you met him—so what?” Meng Tingjing said indifferently. “He doesn’t know you. And you’re not Fifth Young Master Song anymore. He’s him, you’re you—there’s no connection.”
Song Yuzhang hummed softly. Thinking about it, it did feel strangely fascinating. He took another sip of warm water, wondering what the real Fifth Young Master Song actually looked like—someone familiar… who did he resemble? A pair of focused, devout eyes flashed through his mind, and his lashes trembled slightly.
“Hungry? Porridge will be delivered from home soon.”
“Alright…” Song Yuzhang came back to himself. “Did you ask them to make extra? Sister Qingyun hasn’t eaten anything either.”
Meng Tingjing straightened and said coldly, “No.”
Song Yuzhang smiled helplessly. Meng Tingjing, seeing no one around, reached out and ruffled his hair, casting him a sidelong, proud glance. “Of course, I prepared extra. Do you take me for that small-minded? Don’t judge a gentleman by a petty man’s standards.”
The corner of Song Yuzhang’s lips curved in a half-smile. “A gentleman’s standards? Then, dear gentleman, do finish your sentence.”
With his hands behind his back, Meng Tingjing strolled forward leisurely. “Good things aren’t said twice.”
Song Yuzhang followed, looping an arm around his neck again. “Oh? So ‘I want to marry you’ isn’t a good thing to say?”
“…”
Meng Tingjing hooked his arm back around him and suddenly blew into his ear. “I didn’t say it twice—I said it three times!”
“Hahaha.”
“So… what do you think?”
“…I haven’t decided yet.”
“You can take your time,” Meng Tingjing said, pulling him along. “I’m not in a hurry…”
Song Yuzhang smiled as he walked with an arm over Meng Tingjing’s shoulder. He thought to himself that, given Meng Tingjing’s temperament, if he didn’t agree, the man would probably keep saying it for the rest of his life—following behind him day after day, year after year, arguing with him about whether he would marry him… Song Yuzhang shook his head lightly with a soft laugh. Strangely, he didn’t find it annoying at all—instead, it felt rather interesting.
“What are you laughing at?” Meng Tingjing asked, seeing his mysterious smile.
Song Yuzhang turned his head and smiled at him again. “Laughing at you—how cute!”
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