103 Epilogue

Standing by the hotel window, gazing at the scene of the Bund at dusk—the bustling traffic weaving through the aged architecture—she breathed a long sigh after listening to her grandmother’s story and said sincerely, “Grandma, that story is so beautiful, full of twists and deeply moving. Listening to it felt like stepping into a play, reliving those eighty years alongside your parents.” Then, with a touch of emotion, she added, “That story made me believe in true love and happiness again.”

Yan Qin touched her granddaughter’s forehead, half laughing, half crying. “You’re still in college, and just from casually dating two boys, you say you don’t believe in love?” Shaking her head with a smile, she said to Suri, “Suri, the right person for you just hasn’t come yet.”

Suri pouted, softly retorting, “Not everyone is lucky enough to meet their true love. The love between Bi Qingtang and Tan Yang was so difficult. Even the kind of love you and Grandpa had wasn’t easy—from meeting at seven years old to seventy years of marriage until Grandpa passed away. No great turmoil, yet just as touching.” Yan Qin, immersed in memories, suddenly smiled.

“Because your grandfather was American, my father was always opposed to our relationship. Near the end of university, when my father realized Matthew and I were serious, he was furious, watching me closely and forbidding me from seeing Matthew. Mother told me not to worry; she would persuade him. But Matthew grew anxious and one night took me away. I had been a good girl for over ten years, so I was rebellious just that once. Before we even left New York, my father—who had never driven before—chased us in his car. Without a word, he beat Matthew severely and then held a gun to his head, saying, ‘Either you leave or you die.’ Matthew looked at him and said loudly, ‘Sir, I’m not afraid to die, only afraid to live without her.’ My father held the gun for a long moment, then lowered it, turned, and left without a word, leaving us the car. We drove to Washington, to Matthew’s parents’ home.”

“That summer, we held our wedding in Washington. My father said he wouldn’t attend, but my mother comforted me, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be there.’ On the day of the wedding, my mother did indeed bring my father to the church. Afterward, my father warned Matthew fiercely, ‘If you treat Nan Nan badly, I’ll skin you alive!’ Matthew stammered in Chinese, ‘Dad, I won’t. I love her—I’ve loved her since I was very young.’ Even after marriage, my father harbored a grudge and struggled to accept Matthew as his foreign son-in-law. It wasn’t until your father was born that things eased.”

“Though he did legitimate business in America, my father’s reputation from his Shanghai days still commanded respect within the Chinese community. Many feared him, but Matthew probably feared him the most. In his presence, Matthew’s English faltered—he was never so nervous, not even during his gubernatorial campaign. When I asked why, he joked, ‘Because that man is the father of Snow White—China’s mafia.’”

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