Song Yuzhang: Bonus Chapter 4 - Happy Birthday, Song Yuzhang
Bonus 4: Happy Birthday, Song Yuzhang
The sky was bright and clear. Beneath the eaves came the soft chirping of magpies. Chun Xing hurried toward the inner rooms, clutching a bundle of freshly pressed clothes, her feet barely touching the ground.
“Young master.”
She called softly outside the door. Her voice was so quiet it was almost as though she were only speaking to herself. Xiao Yingtao had scolded her about it many times, but Chun Xing could never change.
Fortunately, the young master she served had exceptionally sharp hearing and eyesight. Only he could catch Chun Xing’s timid little calls with a single listen, smiling as he came out to answer, Chun Xing, were you calling me?
Thinking of the young master’s smiling face, Chun Xing’s own cheeks flushed red.
The young master was two years younger than she was, yet already tall and strikingly handsome. Every feature of his face was flawless, his brows and eyes so beautiful they took one’s breath away. Stranger still, despite his youth, he naturally carried himself with the easy grace and open-hearted bearing of a grown man. He didn’t seem like a boy at all.
Chun Xing called twice at the door, but no one answered. She knocked twice more. Still nothing.
“Young master?”
Raising her voice a little, panic creeping into her heart, she forgot her shyness and pushed the door open hard.
The room was neat and spotless, bedding perfectly arranged—but the person inside was long gone. Chun Xing let out a startled cry and was just about to run out and call for help when she noticed a piece of paper on the table and hurried over to it.
There were no words on the paper, only a few lively doodles: the young master with his hands behind his back, one foot already stepping out the door.
It had rained only yesterday. Moss had grown dark and slick across the stone steps, and the damp ground made it easy to slip.
Song Yuzhang wore polished leather shoes that gleamed like mirrors. His stride was brisk and strong. As the weather warmed, he dressed in a crisp white shirt that set off his broad, straight shoulders. He walked like a gust of wind, making passersby turn to look again and again—until someone exclaimed in surprise and nearly fell flat.
Fishing boats were moored by the riverbank. Song Yuzhang took the steps two at a time and went down to ask the fishermen about buying fish.
Xiao Yingtao loved fish and was terribly greedy for it. For the sake of a good catch, she often came to this small dock herself to choose. Chun Xing was too timid to look at live fish, and the cook was slippery by nature, always skimming money for himself.
“Excuse me, how much are these fish?”
Song Yuzhang stopped to ask the price. The fisherman glanced up and saw a boy as beautiful as a golden child. First he exclaimed, then grinned. “Young master, you’re too polite. Pick whichever one you like first. Once you’ve chosen, I’ll weigh it and quote you a price.”
Song Yuzhang picked the biggest fish.
The fisherman swiftly scooped it up and, afraid the boy might change his mind, smashed it dead in one blow before naming a price twice the usual amount.
Song Yuzhang paid readily. Seeing this, the fisherman immediately regretted not asking for even more.
Song Yuzhang knew perfectly well he’d been cheated. Originally, he had wanted to play a trick on the man—tell him to save the remaining fish while he went home to fetch more money, leaving the fisherman waiting eagerly for a customer who would never return. The disappointment of waiting in vain would hurt far more deeply than the extra few copper coins earned from cheating someone.
But Song Yuzhang merely thought about it. Ever since he was little, he’d been full of mischievous ideas. Perhaps it was inborn, or perhaps Xiao Yingtao was too muddleheaded, forcing him to become clever on his own. Without realizing it, he had grown capable of seeing through everyone’s intentions at least a little.
If the fisherman wished to be greedy, then let him be greedy. A few extra copper coins would probably make him happy for quite a while, and Song Yuzhang rather liked making people happy.
Early that morning, Song Yuzhang bought fish at the dock, then stopped by an umbrella shop to buy a new umbrella, and finally circled around to Tongshunzhai to purchase all sorts of cakes and pastries. Laden with goods, he returned home. The moment Chun Xing spotted him from the back gate, she jumped up. “Young master!”
“Here.”
Song Yuzhang handed her the oil-paper umbrella, pale green like young peas. Chun Xing gasped in delight and stared at him. “Young master…”
Smiling, Song Yuzhang said, “Open it.”
Casting him a shy glance, Chun Xing timidly opened the umbrella. Painted across the pale green canopy were several colorful butterflies fluttering in flight—beautiful beyond words. She cried out in delight, nearly jumping again.
There were only three umbrellas in the house: one belonged to Xiao Yingtao, one to Song Yuzhang, and the remaining old one was shared by everyone else. Chun Xing used it the most when running errands.
But that umbrella was terribly worn. Yesterday in the rain, Chun Xing had run back and forth with it, and two of the ribs had snapped, drooping sadly against her shoulder. Song Yuzhang, writing inside the house, had seen it.
“Do you like it?”
Chun Xing nodded vigorously, her face shining with happiness. “I like it very much. Thank you, young master.”
There they stood in the alleyway admiring the umbrella together while Xiao Yingtao inside the house, unable to find anyone to do her hair, kept calling, “Chun Xing—Chun Xing—”
“Madam’s awake,” Chun Xing said hurriedly, folding the umbrella at once. Only then did she notice Song Yuzhang still carrying a fish and pastries. “Young master, let me—” But the sight of the dead fish frightened her again. She reached out hesitantly, her pretty face scrunching up as she shrank backward. Song Yuzhang laughed. “No need. Hurry and help her with her hair.”
The cook still hadn’t arrived, so Song Yuzhang hung the fish in the kitchen, put away the pastries, washed his hands, and quietly went upstairs.
The little maid was combing Xiao Yingtao’s hair. Overcome with spring drowsiness, Xiao Yingtao lay sprawled over the dressing table, pouting as she asked, “Has the young master come back?”
“He has.”
“That’s good.” Xiao Yingtao sounded worried. “Things are chaotic outside these days. Anyway, the school’s already closed down, so tell him not to go running around for no reason.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Today’s Baby’s birthday… ah, bad mouth, bad mouth,” Xiao Yingtao corrected herself anxiously. “He’s grown up now. I shouldn’t call him Baby anymore.”
“Yes, the young master’s already fourteen this year.”
Xiao Yingtao sighed again and again. “Baby’s already fourteen…”
The two spoke quietly together. Song Yuzhang’s hearing was exceptionally sharp; listening outside the door as Xiao Yingtao kept calling him Baby, he couldn’t help smiling secretly.
He truly liked Xiao Yingtao very much. In truth, he quite liked being called Baby too—he was simply too embarrassed to admit it.
Quietly, he went back downstairs and sat beneath the osmanthus tree enjoying the shade. Dappled shadows from the leaves fell across his face. He narrowed his eyes contentedly, feeling deeply at peace.
The teachers had either fled or died, and the school had closed half a year ago. Since then, Song Yuzhang had become a child without schooling.
Ma Jiming had always had limited affection for this cheap son of his. He kept Xiao Yingtao because she pleased him, but he had never intended to raise a true young master.
Song Yuzhang could see Ma Jiming’s displeasure. He thought that he couldn’t just stay at home day after day doing nothing. He wasn’t exactly a child anymore. Since he couldn’t attend school, he might as well go out and find work.
In troubled times, heroes emerged. After reading several popular vernacular novels, Song Yuzhang was filled with passion and prepared to make something of himself. Even if he couldn’t become a hero, he could at least become a boss. The business didn’t need to be large—just enough to support the family.
“Yuzhang—”
Xiao Yingtao spotted him beneath the tree from upstairs and waved her handkerchief. Hearing her, Song Yuzhang looked up and smiled broadly. The smile was dazzling, radiant enough that Xiao Yingtao almost called out Baby again.
Xiao Yingtao could never love her only son enough. Every year on his birthday, she did her best to celebrate it.
Earlier, she had heard from Ma Jiming that the fashionable city folk now ate something called birthday cake—a foreign invention with a special taste. Xiao Yingtao decided that this year, Song Yuzhang must try it too. She had begged countless people for help, and after breakfast she hurried away in a rickshaw to fetch it.
Not understanding what was going on, Song Yuzhang asked Chun Xing about it. Chun Xing, however, knew.
Before he had even tasted the mysterious cream cake, Song Yuzhang already felt sweetness blooming in his heart.
That morning, the reason he had gone out early was because of this. After much thought, he decided the best way to celebrate a birthday was to make everyone around him happy because of him. That was why he had gone around buying things all morning, spending the little money he earned from copying letters and doing calligraphy.
Fourteen was still too young. He earned only a tiny amount, and Song Yuzhang quietly sighed to himself, wondering how long it would be before he could become a real little boss.
Xiao Yingtao returned in high spirits, carrying a paper package.
Song Yuzhang and Chun Xing were already waiting at the door. Xiao Yingtao stepped down from the rickshaw, her round, powdery face full of delight, so delighted she forgot to correct herself again. “Baby, look what I bought for you! Ah, why does it smell like fish?”
The cook was stewing fish in the kitchen. The three of them gathered around the small paper package in the sitting room.
The package didn’t smell sweet at all. The bottom had gone damp, with moisture spreading through the paper.
Chun Xing widened her eyes and stared curiously. “So this is cake?”
Xiao Yingtao corrected her solemnly, “This is cream cake.”
Chun Xing nodded, and the two of them turned together to look at Song Yuzhang.
Looking at the tiny paper package, Song Yuzhang calmly said, “Shall I open it and take a look?”
Xiao Yingtao and Chun Xing nodded vigorously.
Only halfway through unwrapping it, Song Yuzhang already sensed something was wrong. A sour smell wafted out from inside, pungent enough to sting the nose.
Xiao Yingtao and Chun Xing smelled it too. Xiao Yingtao’s face changed, and she murmured weakly, “Has it gone bad?”
This tiny cream cake was high-born indeed, imported all the way from Haizhou. Delicate beyond compare, it had boarded a ship three days ago and likely become seasick on the journey, vomiting itself into a complete mess until it collapsed inside the paper wrapping into a sticky, mushy lump.
The three stared at one another in silence. Xiao Yingtao especially looked utterly crestfallen and miserable. “Baby…”
Song Yuzhang immediately smiled. “It’s alright. I bought lots of pastries from Tongshunzhai this morning. It’s all the same. There’ll be plenty of chances to eat cream cake in the future.”
The master chef had been sneaking bites in the kitchen. When Song Yuzhang walked in, he was in the middle of eating a mung bean cake. Tongshunzhai’s mung bean cakes truly were exceptional, rich with ingredients. The master chef got such a fright from Song Yuzhang’s sudden appearance that the cake lodged in his throat and nearly choked him to death.
Song Yuzhang had to pound his back and force water down him before he barely managed to save the man’s life.
A perfectly good birthday turned into chaos inside and out. Xiao Yingtao stomped her feet in frustration, while Song Yuzhang laughed nonstop, finding the whole birthday rather entertaining.
As usual, Xiao Yingtao had made Song Yuzhang a new set of clothes and bought him a new writing brush, hoping the schools would reopen someday so that Song Yuzhang could eventually become a top scholar. People said there were no imperial examinations anymore, but Xiao Yingtao didn’t quite believe it.
Song Yuzhang accepted the wolf-hair brush. “Thank you, Mother.”
Xiao Yingtao looked him over carefully. Song Yuzhang was growing taller and taller now. His eyebrows resembled Song Xiaosheng’s.
Xiao Yingtao smiled secretly, as though she had stumbled upon some priceless treasure. She often went to the docks, still hoping to wait and see—perhaps one day Song Xiaosheng would make a fortune and return by ship.
“Baby, happy birthday,” Xiao Yingtao said solemnly. “Mother feels that when you grow up, you’ll definitely become somebody important.”
Xiao Yingtao had never really judged anything correctly in her life, nor trusted the right people. She thought at least one thing ought to turn out right—and let it be her Baby.
After hearing her, Song Yuzhang replied without the slightest embarrassment, “I will.”
When he became successful in the future, he would take Xiao Yingtao out for cream cake.
Out of gratitude for having his life saved, the master chef prepared lunch with exceptional care.
Xiao Yingtao had always been muddleheaded when it came to housekeeping, so the four master and servants sat together for the meal.
“The young master’s practically becoming an adult now,” the master chef proposed. “Young master, such a joyous birthday calls for a drink.”
Song Yuzhang didn’t refuse and agreed boldly. Chun Xing went to fetch a cup and secretly smeared a little honey around the rim, afraid the liquor would taste too harsh for him.
After one mouthful of wine, the master chef clapped his hands in praise. Xiao Yingtao laughed too. “Alright, alright, one cup is enough. Don’t get drunk.”
Song Yuzhang smiled faintly, eyes narrowing slightly. “So wine is sweet.”
Chun Xing peeked at him from the side and smiled secretly.
After lunch, Xiao Yingtao still refused to give up. She went out again, determined to somehow get hold of a proper cream cake.
Behind the house, Chun Xing kept opening and closing her umbrella, spinning it around and watching sunlight spill across the surface while the butterflies painted on it seemed almost to flutter to life.
The master chef was cleaning up leftovers. Today’s fish had turned out especially well, and he smacked his lips happily over the tail.
—
Song Yuzhang felt a little dizzy. Dragging over a chair, he sat beneath the osmanthus tree to cool off. Squinting upward, his chin bobbing little by little, he drifted toward sleep. In his haze, he vaguely heard someone speaking beside his ear, the tone irritated yet indescribably intimate.
“That little brat’s fooling around, and you’re fooling around right along with him. Do you really think you can hold your liquor? Sweet foreign wine gets people drunk the easiest. Sleeping out in the garden—you’ll catch cold.”
The corners of Song Yuzhang’s lips curled upward. He suddenly felt himself floating, and lazily raised a hand to pat the speaker’s cheek lightly. “Stop talking.”
“Already past thirty and getting more outrageous by the year. Even drunk, you still remember to hit people.”
Meng Tingjing spoke with endless fondness as he carried him in from the garden entrance. Up ahead was a noisy commotion—Liu Chu was loudly insisting on competing with Song Qiyuan in marksmanship. Shaking his head, Meng Tingjing turned into a guest bedroom nearby and carefully laid Song Yuzhang on the bed. Yet the moment his arm touched the mattress, Song Yuzhang half-opened his eyes and looked at him with an ambiguous smile.
“Awake?”
Meng Tingjing brushed a hand across Song Yuzhang’s damp forehead. They had gone wild today, drinking and dancing alike. Only after feeling no fever did he relax slightly.
“So annoying.” Song Yuzhang tilted his head back a little. With each rise and fall of his chest, the fragrant scent of wine mixed with perfume drifted from his body, intoxicating even Meng Tingjing. Smiling faintly, he muttered softly, “I was just about to eat cake, and you woke me up.”
Sitting on the bedside, Meng Tingjing couldn’t help laughing. “There’s already cake outside. You only had one bite.”
Song Yuzhang merely smiled. Seeing that, Meng Tingjing bent down and lightly kissed the corner of his lips. “I’ll go get you some.”
Song Yuzhang turned his face inward and murmured dreamily, “Want cream cake…”
“It’s all cream cake,” Meng Tingjing said. He adored the way Song Yuzhang ate, adored even more the greedy little way he craved things. Overflowing with affection, he kissed his face several more times. “Wait here. I’ll bring it right away.”
The sound of footsteps gradually faded. Song Yuzhang felt as though his whole body were floating in midair. For a moment, he could not tell whether he was lying beneath the osmanthus tree in Qingxi or in the manor in London.
Not long after, the sweet scent of cream drifted into his nose, and Song Yuzhang smiled hazily.
“Baby, happy birthday. You really did become successful. Mother is so happy for you.”
A gentle kiss landed at the corner of his eye, damp and warm. Inwardly, Song Yuzhang softly answered: Happy birthday. A dab of cream smeared against the corner of his lips. Song Yuzhang extended his tongue and licked it lightly. Sweet.
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