Song Yuzhang: Chapter 2 - Liar
Chapter 2: Liar
The great ship set sail. The first-class cabin was located in the ship’s belly, making for a smooth ride. Song Yuzhang leaned against the window, leisurely admiring the seascape outside while pouring himself a drink.
Judging by the time, Fu Mian should be awake by now. He had taken all of Fu Mian’s clothes and tossed them out. That proud young master would probably be too embarrassed to ask for help anytime soon. Right now, he was most likely still stark naked, crying in the inn.
With a cigarette in his mouth, Song Yuzhang unbuttoned his vest, then pulled out a thin piece of paper from the lining between his vest and shirt.
The paper was old and yellowed, ink seeping through to the back. The century-old prescription emitted a faint musty scent of decay.
This was the lifeblood of the Fu family, the foundation of their immense wealth—the secret formula Tang Jin had longed for.
Song Yuzhang didn’t even bother to look at it. He took out a match, struck it, and watched as the orange flame lazily licked at the priceless prescription. Using the fire worth a fortune, he lit his cigarette, then flicked the ashes off his fingers with a casual motion.
Six months ago, he had fled to Anjin to escape Nie Yinbing’s pursuit. At the time, he had been in dire straits—penniless, with nothing to his name but a handsome face and a fine set of clothes. Fortunately, Tang Jin happened to pass by and took him in. He introduced himself as Ye Zhuqing, fabricating a story about being a traveling merchant who had been robbed by bandits. In these chaotic times, such tales were hardly unusual.
Anjin was a thousand miles away from Jiangzhou. Nie Yinbing wouldn’t be able to track him down anytime soon, so Song Yuzhang settled into Tang Jin’s home to recuperate.
He ate Tang Jin’s food, used Tang Jin’s money, and after some time, he grew restless—itching to swindle Tang Jin out of his fortune.
For such a venomous and ungrateful thought, Song Yuzhang felt not the slightest bit of guilt. He had done the same to Nie Yinbing before, driving him into a fury, cursing him as a ‘son of a whore.’
Song Yuzhang hadn’t been offended in the slightest—because, in truth, he was indeed the son of a whore.
His mother had been an opera singer at Zhilanyuan, known as Xiao Yingtao. She had performed for two years, never quite making it big, barely scraping by. Since she was often sent to sing at private banquets where men took liberties with her anyway, she eventually gave up and became a courtesan.
As a performer, Xiao Yingtao had been unsuccessful. As a courtesan, she was an even greater failure.
In less than a year, she found herself pregnant with Song Yuzhang.
Having a child—an illegitimate one of uncertain parentage—gave her newfound motivation. She worked hard and finally managed to attach herself to a traveling merchant, securing a position as his kept woman.
As Song Yuzhang grew, Little Cherry became increasingly astonished.
For the first two years, she had believed he was the son of her senior, Song. But the older he got, the more strikingly handsome he became—so much so that there was something almost wickedly alluring about his beauty. Eventually, she stopped guessing altogether, afraid to think about it any further.
When Song Yuzhang was five, Xiao Yingtao wanted to send him to school and asked what he wanted to be when he grew up.
The little boy, as beautiful as an immortal child, answered crisply, “I want to be a courtesan.”
Xiao Yingtao had been eating cherries at the time. Stunned by her son's ambition, she nearly choked to death on the pit.
After a chaotic moment of coughing and thumping her chest, she wiped her teary eyes, pulled him onto the bed, and asked in a tender voice, “Baby, do you know what a courtesan is?”
Although he had never been to school, Song Yuzhang spoke clearly, “I know. A courtesan is a mama, and a mama is a courtesan.”
Xiao Yingtao was left speechless, marveling at his keen perception. She had joined the opera troupe at four, never learned to read, and spent her days practicing. The smartest person she had ever met was her senior, Song, who had tricked her out of her virginity at sixteen. She never expected her own son to be even more astute.
“Baby, you're so clever. You shouldn't become a courtesan. Only fools like Mama do that.”
Song Yuzhang didn’t understand.
He didn’t see anything wrong with being a courtesan.
Once, Ma Jiming, the traveling merchant, had returned from Dongcheng and had a furious argument with Xiao Yingtao for some unknown reason.
Song Yuzhang had been playing in the garden, catching bits and pieces of the shouting.
“…You whore, you eat my food, wear my clothes, live in my house, and now you… I even have to raise that little bastard of yours… You filthy whore…”
After a while, Ma Jiming's barking voice faded.
Shortly after, he came downstairs, hat in hand, with fresh red scratches on his neck but a satisfied expression. He wobbled over to where Song Yuzhang was squatting and watching ants, ruffled his hair roughly, and said in a tone of feigned affection, “Little bastard, look how happy you are.”
Song Yuzhang understood then.
Being a courtesan meant having food, clothes, and a home.
Being a bastard meant getting his hair pulled.
So, he decided he’d rather be a courtesan.
As it turned out, despite being clueless her whole life, Xiao Yingtao had remarkable foresight when it came to her son’s future. Song Yuzhang never did become a courtesan—but he did become a swindler.
If Xiao Yingtao had lived to see him at sixteen, she would never have doubted his parentage again.
Song Yuzhang had learned how to lie.
Not only could he lie with ease, but his stories were seamless, flawlessly consistent. He tailored his lies to different people as naturally as breathing. Perhaps deception ran in his blood—he was born to be a con man.
But Song Yuzhang was a swindler with principles. He never seduced men he found unappealing.
So, when Nie Yinbing suggested they become lovers, Song Yuzhang had leaned back leisurely, swirling the foreign liquor Nie Yinbing had bought for him, and declined with polite indifference. “Yinbing, you're too tall. I don't like that.”
“You said what?! Zhao Jianfang! Are you mocking me?!”
Zhao Jianfang was the fake name and identity he had made up in front of Nie Yinbing.
Song Yuzhang met Nie Yinbing at the racetrack. Over the past few months, he had introduced Nie Yinbing to gambling and drinking, skimming off a portion of Nie Yinbing’s betting money and liquor expenses from the racetrack owner. He had scammed quite a bit from the extravagant Young Master Nie. Smiling politely, Song Yuzhang said in a solemn tone, “Yinbing, I'm not mocking you. Everything I said is sincere. You're too tall, like a bamboo pole.’
They had a falling out. The racetrack owner, lacking integrity, revealed his commission skimming to Nie Yinbing. Enraged, Nie Yinbing stormed into Song Yuzhang’s inn that very night, and Song Yuzhang had nearly been assaulted.
From that experience, Song Yuzhang learned a lesson: never con men who are significantly taller than him—it was too risky.
Tang Jin was taller than him.
So, Song Yuzhang held back.
Fu Mian was a little shorter than him. He couldn’t hold back anymore.
That proud, domineering young master was utterly shameless in front of him, so much so that he was almost adorable. In the dead of night, he had even sneaked into the inn to offer himself to Song Yuzhang. At that moment, Song Yuzhang was a little nervous—the situation was eerily similar to when Nie Yinbing had broken in. The only difference was that Nie Yinbing had been holding a gun.
But Fu Mian wasn’t holding a gun. He wasn’t here to assault him—he was here to willingly be taken.
Song Yuzhang let out a soft sigh in the darkness.
“A-Mian, don't be like this.”
He held Fu Mian in his arms and slept chastely through the night, thinking that this young master was truly an even bigger wretch than a prostitute.
A wretch who had been raised with pride. And yet, as a bastard raised by a prostitute, Song Yuzhang found himself growing fond of him.
After some consideration, he decided to con Tang Jin instead.
He still preferred men who were a little shorter than him.
That said, what he was doing couldn’t really be considered fraud.
Tang Jin wanted the box that contained the secret formula, and he had helped him get it. Whether or not the formula was actually inside, he had made it very clear—it wasn’t his concern. A fair exchange of goods for money—how could that be called a scam?
As for Fu Mian, he truly loved him. The Fu family's secret formula had never been seen by anyone outside the Fu lineage, and he hadn’t even touched it. So, again—not a scam.
By that logic, over the past three months, he had conducted himself impeccably towards both his close friend and his lover. He was, without a doubt, a gentleman.
And so, the gentleman Song Yuzhang left the cabin and headed to the ship’s casino. After an hour of intense gambling, he completely forgot about the close friend and lover he had made over the past three months.
Song Yuzhang was an average gambler but had excellent gambling etiquette—he always knew when to quit. He gave all his winnings to a few pretty girls who had been hovering around him, then got up to relieve himself. On his way back, a strikingly handsome young man blocked his path.
“I… my name is Chen Hanmin…”
Chen Hanmin stammered as he introduced himself, explaining that he had seen Song Yuzhang at the casino earlier that afternoon and greatly admired his presence, so he wanted to befriend him.
Chen Hanmin was a student who had studied abroad in France. He had always loved beauty since childhood—whenever he saw someone attractive, he couldn't look away. But out of respect for his family's reputation, he had only indulged in romantic fantasies in his heart while in China.
It wasn’t until he arrived in France that he felt like he had finally come home. At one point, he even thought he might have been born in the wrong country—he should have been French.
At school, whether male or female, as long as they were beautiful, he flirted with them all. He had shared many romantic encounters with several mademoiselles and messieurs. But his family, fearing he would become too enamored with the romantic ways of France, urgently summoned him back home for an arranged marriage.
As France’s number one lover, he was heartbroken. After writing several dramatic farewell letters, he boarded the ship back to China.
To maintain his usual image of innocence, Chen Hanmin abstained from any indulgences on the ship. He was so restrained he felt like a bird about to wither away. Today, he finally gave in and took a walk around the casino—only to catch sight of a man who took his breath away.
The man had an air of effortless charm and elegance, a reckless generosity with his money, and a face sculpted like a perfect statue. Every movement he made exuded unrestrained allure. Within moments, Chen Hanmin had completely forgotten all the years he had spent in France, along with all the mademoiselles and messieurs he had loved.
Returning home was the right choice! The classical beauty of China—how could it ever compare to the crude ways of foreign lands?!
Chen Hanmin struggled with himself for a long time, but in the end, lust overcame his fragile sense of innocence. And so, he shyly, nervously, and full of desire, approached the man to strike up a conversation.
Song Yuzhang lowered his head to size him up.
To be honest, compared to him, Chen Hanmin—the so-called top lover of France—was nothing. With just a single glance, Song Yuzhang could see straight through him.
Another little wretch.
And a libertine, at that.
There were two types of people Song Yuzhang never lied about his real name to: those who were completely insignificant, and those he was about to sleep with—because hearing someone call the wrong name in bed was simply unpleasant.
“My surname is Song.”
“Mr. Song,” Chen Hanmin thought to himself—what a fitting surname. “Hello, sir. You look very familiar. Did you also study in France?”
Chen Hanmin mentally praised himself for his cleverness. With just one sentence, he had subtly hinted at his background as a foreign-educated student. It showed confidence without being overly arrogant—a display of charm that was both elegant and refined.
Song Yuzhang, having already exhausted much of his bad intentions, now had only a small reserve left. He always enjoyed teasing young noblemen like this, so he chuckled lightly and casually lied, “I studied in Britain.”
Chen Hanmin gasped in excitement. “What a coincidence!” He tilted his head up and, with a face full of innocence, invited Song Yuzhang to have a drink with him—to discuss some academic matters, of course.
Song Yuzhang had a faint smile on his lips, saying nothing—just looking at him.
His eyelashes were exceptionally long, so long that they seemed to curl up helplessly under their own weight. They were like dense, delicate fans. The soft light cast a hazy glow over his smooth face, wrapping him in a misty aura. His bright eyes pierced through the haze, making one's heart skip a beat. Chen Hanmin felt a growing unease in his chest. He forced a nervous smile and said, “If Mr. Song is busy, then never mind.”
“I don’t have time for drinking.”
At those words, Chen Hanmin was visibly disappointed. In truth, nearly everyone in the casino had their eyes on Song Yuzhang, but no one dared to approach him—because he was simply too striking, too dazzling, almost intimidatingly so.
Being turned down wasn’t unexpected. Chen Hanmin mumbled, “I apologize for disturbing you.”
Just as he was about to turn away, a voice stopped him.
“Wait.”
Chen Hanmin hesitated, his body half-turned. His gaze was both hopeful and anxious as he looked at Song Yuzhang, anticipating some words of delight from those thin lips.
Song Yuzhang lowered his head slightly, the light and shadow shifting across his face. His smile was teasing. “I don’t have time for drinking,” he said. “But for something else—I do have an hour to spare.”
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