Song Yuzhang: Chapter 5 - Rescue
Chapter 5: Rescue
After drifting at sea for an unknown length of time, Song Yuzhang began to suspect that he might truly be doomed this time.
When the storm struck, its power exceeded everyone's imagination. The ship was overturned almost instantly, like a mere toy in the face of nature’s fury.
Song Yuzhang failed to hold onto Chen Hanmin—not that it would have helped. In the midst of the raging wind and towering waves, humans were far too insignificant. He couldn’t grasp anything, barely managing to cling to his own life.
As the ship tore apart, lifebuoys and lifeboats scattered into the sea. Song Yuzhang was lucky—amidst the churning waters, he first latched onto a piece of floating wreckage. Clinging to it for dear life, he endured until the storm subsided. With that fragment as support, he eventually managed to climb onto a lifeboat, which bobbed in the ocean like a fragile leaf.
From then on, he became a dewdrop on that leaf—cold at night, hot by day, longing to dissolve into thin air and vanish from this world.
Hunger was no longer his greatest concern. He had suffered hunger before and didn’t pay it much mind. What tormented him now was thirst.
The daytime heat at sea was absurdly intense. His clothes had been soaked through and dried again, turning stiff as if they had formed a second shell on his body. Perhaps salt crystals had formed in the fabric’s crevices, making his skin itch unbearably. Song Yuzhang felt like a half-dried salted fish, his flesh and bones growing brittle under the salt's influence.
After the storm, the weather was unnervingly clear—so clear that it made him want to curse. The sunrises and sunsets were breathtakingly vast and magnificent, yet all he could do was lie still on the lifeboat, conserving his energy, waiting for a sliver of hope.
The glaring sunlight made his head spin. Song Yuzhang peeled off his ‘shell’ and draped it over his face, inhaling the salty scent of the sea. Just as he was about to drift into a daze, an image of Fu Mian suddenly surfaced in his mind, accompanied by lingering echoes of love-laced vows of life and death.
Song Yuzhang slowly opened his eyes.
The dried-up suit fabric draped over his face cast a dim shadow, but the ruthless sunlight still seeped through the gaps like countless soft needles, pricking at his eyelids. The interplay of light and shadow before him felt dreamlike. His heart trembled slightly, and he thought, ‘Why am I suddenly thinking of such unrelated things? Am I really about to die?’
He sat up. His ‘shell’ slid off, and the unfiltered sunlight hit his face directly—yet he felt nothing, just numbness.
He refused to lie down again. If he continued like this, he might truly slip away unnoticed.
Sitting upright helped restore a sliver of his strength. With trembling hands, he reached for his shirt buttons and noticed his hands were unnaturally red, showing early signs of cracking.
Stripping off his shirt as well, Song Yuzhang straightened his back and lifted his face to the scorching sun.
This self-inflicted torment went on for an indeterminate time before he finally began to feel a slight sting. Seizing the moment, he dipped his arms into the seawater. The warm ocean caressed his skin like a gentle tongue, sending a faint, tingling sensation up his arms. He shuddered slightly, finding it oddly comforting. Giving in to the feeling, he leaned back onto the lifeboat, letting both arms dangle into the sea.
The ocean was eerily calm. The lifeboat drifted aimlessly while his arms occasionally brushed against floating debris—fragments of the ship and scattered belongings.
Some of these items were quite valuable. Most commonly, there were banknotes—U.S. dollars, British pounds, Chinese banknotes—floating all around him. Song Yuzhang winced at the sight, remembering his own chest of cash that had sunk into the depths. The thought nearly made him cough up blood.
So he forced himself not to dwell on it. As his fingers brushed past the damp bills, he consoled himself: “Losing money to avoid disaster. I survived, so it's not a loss. Consider it an offering to my ancestors. Wait, I don’t even know who my ancestors are. Then let’s say it’s an offering to Xiao Yingtao instead.”
On the second day after setting out to sea, Meng Tingjing encountered a fishing boat. He had his crew call out to them, but before he could even ask anything, a familiar face peeked nervously out of the cabin. Upon seeing Meng Tingjing standing at the bow, the man was instantly overjoyed. “Brother Meng!”
Chen Hanmin could hardly believe his luck. First, he had been rescued by a passing fishing boat, and now he had run into Meng Tingjing, who had come out to search for survivors.
The moment he saw Meng Tingjing’s strikingly refined face, Chen Hanmin broke down in sobs.
“The wind was too strong! It overturned the ship in an instant—no one even had time to react! We were all thrown into the sea…”
Through his tears and snot, he recounted his near-death experience, while Meng Tingjing listened with a solemn expression, thinking to himself, ‘This fool sure talks a lot.’
Meng Tingjing and Chen Hanmin had been schoolmates in their youth. Back then, Chen Hanmin had tried to ingratiate himself with Meng Tingjing. At first, Meng Tingjing assumed it was just another case of someone currying favor due to his family background— something he was used to and thus paid little mind. He simply regarded Chen Hanmin as another sycophantic classmate. However, over time, he realized that Chen Hanmin’s flattery wasn’t driven by status but by sheer lust—he had an undeniable fondness for good-looking men.
“Brother Chen, let’s set that aside for now. Besides yourself, do you know if anyone else from the ship survived?”
Chen Hanmin shook his head, his eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t know.”
After being rescued, his first thought had been of Song Yuzhang.
He had begged the fishing boat crew to go back and search, offering substantial rewards. But the vast ocean was an endless expanse, and with the previous night’s storm, who knew where the waves had carried people? They circled around for a while but found nothing. In the end, they had no choice but to return to shore for help—leading them to encounter Meng Tingjing’s rescue mission.
From Chen Hanmin’s account, the storm had been terrifying beyond words. Given the circumstances, it was likely that most of those who had been on the ship had perished, aside from this lucky fool.
Meng Tingjing waved a steady hand. “Go rest inside. I’ll continue searching ahead.”
Chen Hanmin pleaded, “Brother Meng, please, you must try your best… My… my friend was on that ship too…”
Meng Tingjing nodded. “Don’t worry. I came out here to save people.”
Following the fishing boat’s indications, Meng Tingjing adjusted their course and pressed forward.
Their vessel sliced through the waters at great speed. Standing at the bow, Meng Tingjing let the sea breeze tousle his hair as he recalled the box of bullets Song Jincheng had entrusted to him.
A pity. No place for heroes to put their skills to use.
As they continued their journey, they gradually picked up more survivors—people who had clung to lifeboats, lifebuoys, or floating wreckage and miraculously endured.
All those rescued cried as they recounted their ordeal, much like Chen Hanmin. Each pleaded with Meng Tingjing to search further for survivors. Meng Tingjing agreed to every request, ordering the crew to move at full speed, setting up binoculars to scan the sea for any remaining signs of life.
Strangely, while many people were rescued, there was no sign of the ship’s main wreckage. After sailing dozens of nautical miles forward, the crew spotted someone on a lifeboat waving a piece of red cloth. They quickly reported it to Meng Tingjing. “Young Master, he looks like a crew member from the ship.”
Meng Tingjing took the binoculars and confirmed the uniform. He immediately ordered the ship to speed up to rescue the person.
The one brought aboard was a first officer. Unlike the passengers rescued earlier, he was much calmer. After confirming Meng Tingjing’s identity, he repeatedly expressed his gratitude. Meng Tingjing stopped him. “No need to thank me yet. As the ship’s first officer, you know its situation better than anyone. You lead the way. I refuse to believe that the entire ship has just vanished into thin air. The people are dead, the cargo is sunk—without evidence, it’s as if this storm conveniently helped certain people.”
The first officer had initially been overwhelmed with gratitude, but upon hearing Meng Tingjing’s measured words, his relief vanished. His heart pounded violently in his chest. His recently sipped water suddenly felt like it had dried up in his mouth. He hesitated, unsure how to respond. Surviving such a disaster should have made him feel lucky, yet now he found himself caught in another life-or-death trap. The first officer was bald, and his sunburned scalp had already begun peeling. As he lowered his head in thought, his skin suddenly tore open with a sharp sting, as if being flayed alive. He let out a cry and clutched his head, feeling something wet. When he looked at his hand, he saw—blood!
Meng Tingjing flicked his fingers, smiling like a young noble amused by a cruel game. His expression was lively but carried an inexplicable wickedness, like a child executing a sinister prank. “What’s that on your head? Some filthy thing from the sea. It’s dirty. I’ll have someone clean it off for you.”
Most seafarers had seen their share of the world, and the first officer was no exception. He immediately understood Meng Tingjing’s veiled threat and decided it was best to submit.
“Young Master Meng, please have mercy! I’ll go to the bridge right away and help navigate. Will that do?”
With the first officer guiding them, the ship sailed southwest, deep into the sea. They pressed on for another twenty minutes. Still, there was no sign of the wreck, just more scattered survivors. Each one rescued wept and thanked Meng Tingjing profusely, which he soon grew tired of. Seeking some peace, he moved to the other side of the deck.
As he turned the corner, he saw Chen Hanmin gripping the railing and straining to peer into the distance. Among all the survivors, Chen Hanmin was the luckiest—he had eaten and rested well on the fishing boat, so he wasn’t half-dead like the others.
“What are you doing?” Meng Tingjing asked.
Chen Hanmin turned around, his sunburnt face even darker now. He looked miserable. “I’m looking for my friend.”
Meng Tingjing wasn’t particularly interested in Chen Hanmin’s friend. He sat down on a deck chair, letting the rocking of the ship pull his thoughts back to the matter Song Jincheng had entrusted to him.
So far, none of the survivors had the surname Song. But there was always a chance someone had given a false name. Meng Tingjing glanced at Chen Hanmin, who clung to the railing like a monkey. “Brother Chen, I remember you went abroad to study?”
“Yes, I went to France.” Chen Hanmin didn’t turn around, still craning his neck to scan the dazzling sea. He couldn’t stop thinking about Song Yuzhang—about how, when the ship capsized, Song Yuzhang had tightly grabbed his hand. His heart ached. “My friend is also a student.”
France… Meng Tingjing tapped his fingers on his cheek. Not England, then. It probably wasn’t such a coincidence. But even if it was, it didn’t matter.
The sea breeze was gentle, making him drowsy. He checked his pocket watch—it was already 2 PM. His ship wasn’t as heavy and slow as the Peony, so they should have encountered something by now. Could the first officer still be playing tricks?
Meng Tingjing pressed his fingers against his watch, his face dark and his mind eager to strip the man’s skin clean from head to toe. He wouldn’t tolerate deceit.
Just as he tucked the watch back into his pocket, a crew member rushed over with binoculars. “Young Master, we’ve found it!”
Meng Tingjing sprang up like a coiled spring, grabbed the binoculars, and strode to the ship’s edge. Following the crew member’s directions, he focused his gaze.
The sea shimmered with golden light, waves cresting and breaking. Countless fragments floated on the surface, half-sunk and scattered across the water. As the ship moved forward, more and more debris entered his view. Seeing it all, Meng Tingjing tightened his grip on the binoculars, thinking, "Perfect. No matter how they try to explain this, they’re doomed!"
Amid his violent, excited imaginings, something else came into view—money. Countless bills, vivid and colorful, lay scattered across the sea like a carpet. At the center of this vast spread of wealth, a pale lifeboat drifted.
The ship closed in fast, and through the binoculars, Meng Tingjing’s view sharpened like a cinematic zoom.
There was someone on the boat, but unlike the other desperate survivors, this person’s posture was entirely different. Meng Tingjing first saw a smooth, pale arm dangling into the water. As they drew closer, he saw the person lying shirtless inside the boat.
The brutal sunlight cast over their chest, gleaming like fine porcelain—pure white and dazzling. The figure, surrounded by floating banknotes and opium, lay there, uncertain if alive or dead, real or illusion.
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