12 (10) Hidden Dangers

She herself was still only dimly aware of her feelings for him, but he had already seen through them completely.

At first, Bi Qingtang found himself stifled by this situation, but once his irritation faded, he was surprised to find a deep sense of pity growing within him. He pitied her, and through her, pitied himself as well. After more than a decade of struggling on the streets of Shanghai—bloody fights, underhanded dealings, illicit businesses, and gang warfare—his experiences had given him the keenest understanding of the world’s darkness. By the same token, he had developed a rare sensitivity to the faint glimmers of light that managed to survive within it. And so, when this sliver of brightness drew near, his pity for it became all the more profound. Tan Yang’s naive affection for him was just such a light. He cherished her, her feelings, and even more so, himself as the object of those feelings. After all, the world was harsh and true affection rare; having witnessed all manner of human affairs, this emotion felt like an unattainable luxury to him.

In short, now in his thirties, Bi Qingtang still possessed the bold ambition to carve out his own world, but had lost the reckless impulsiveness of youth. At this juncture in his life, he happened to encounter such a love. When he pondered it quietly, he felt it must be a blessing for both of them. The more he thought so, the more cautiously and attentively he treated Tan Yang, taking care with every detail for fear of falling short. The more careful he was, the more Tan Yang came to appreciate his goodness, and the less she could do without him. By this point, though he still held some rational reservations, he found himself somewhat intoxicated by this turn of events.

One day in late spring of the following year, the owner of a large clock shop came to see Bi Qingtang. After a business dispute with a Western-style watch shop, Mr. Li, the owner, brought lavish gifts in hopes that Bi Qingtang would mediate. The most prominent gift was a gold pocket watch, which Mr. Li presented with great pride, calling it the treasure of his shop, and boasting about it at length. Bi Qingtang, who had little interest in such ill-deserved luxuries, barely listened, glanced at it, and lazily began to smoke, his face showing impatience. He remained noncommittal about Mr. Li’s request.

Seeing Bi Qingtang so indifferent, Mr. Li thought bitterly that he shouldn’t have wasted his best treasure on someone who didn’t appreciate it. The man didn’t value it, and now he couldn’t take it back either. Placing the watch back in its box, Mr. Li tried to make conversation, “This watch can hold photos—up to three!” Bi Qingtang flicked his cigarette ash and reached out, “Let me have a look.”

He weighed the heavy pocket watch in his hand, examined it closely, and frowned, “Tell me, Mr. Li, how do you put the photos in?” “I brought my tools! If you have photos, I can put them in for you right now.” With that, Mr. Li took a small box of watchmaker’s tools from his pocket. Bi Qingtang was momentarily taken aback, then burst out laughing. “It’s true, every trade has its secrets. Our businesses are different, so are our tools. When you said you brought your gear, I thought you meant a gun!” After laughing, Bi Qingtang grew a little more serious, studied the watch for a moment, then opened a drawer, took out some photos, and pushed them, along with the watch, toward Mr. Li.

Mr. Li deftly set the photos into the watch. As he returned the watch, he made the conventional remark, “Your lady is truly beautiful.” To his surprise, Bi Qingtang’s mood improved at once. He joked, “How can you tell? Everyone else says she’s my sister. No wonder they say watchmakers have a sharp eye.” Mr. Li chuckled inwardly—who would put a photo of his real sister in his pocket watch and carry it close to his heart? The answer was obvious. But he played along, “Perhaps you look so compatible that people mistake you for siblings.” Bi Qingtang nodded, pleased, and stubbed out his cigarette. “Set up a meeting for me with them. Foreigners are tricky, but I’ll try for you. If it doesn’t work out, don’t hold it against me.” “Of course! If you can’t resolve it, Mr. Bi, there’s no one else in all of Shanghai who could!” Mr. Li replied, fawning.

After Mr. Li left, Bi Qingtang opened the pocket watch and looked at the photo of Tan Yang, caught in a moment of surprise. He murmured to himself, “Bi Qingtang’s woman.” He smiled—a smile that never reached his lips but stirred a ticklish feeling in his heart. After a moment’s thought, with a decisive snap, he closed the watch and slipped it into his pocket. “There’s no escaping now!” he said smugly, grinning.

When the thin veil was inadvertently pierced, she stood bewildered, while he was ready to journey over mountains and rivers. The age-old rule: the man pursues the woman, the woman the man—timeless laws of love.

“Big Brother, is that a new pocket watch? How exquisite.” Reading in the sitting room, Tan Yang glanced at the watch in Bi Qingtang’s hand and commented offhandedly. Bi Qingtang snapped the cover shut and dangled the chain before her. “You haven’t even seen the inside, and you call it exquisite? That’s a half-hearted compliment—I don’t accept it.” Tan Yang laughed and reached for the watch, but Bi Qingtang leaned back, pulling the watch just out of reach. Seeing her hand fall short, he smiled meaningfully, “You can look, but if you blush, you have to promise me one thing.” Tan Yang froze, studying his face for a clue. His ambiguous gaze made her heart flutter. She looked at the pocket watch swaying before her, then, as if understanding, withdrew her hand and shot him a look. “I know exactly what it is without looking. If you want me to promise you something, just say it, why go to such lengths to tease me?”

Bi Qingtang was genuinely surprised. “You know what’s inside? Then tell me!” Tan Yang scoffed and shifted away. “Oh, some Western trinket, I’ve seen them in art class. I just don’t see what’s so attractive about those scantily clad foreigners.” At her words, Bi Qingtang burst out laughing. “Little sister, if you can’t appreciate it, perhaps I wouldn’t like it either.” He carefully tucked the watch away and added, “Seems it’s still a bit early!”

That autumn, the sunlight was brilliant, golden sycamore leaves danced in the crisp wind. On a quiet lane behind the apartment, Bi Qingtang steadied the back seat of a bicycle, walked a few steps, then let go, calling out, “Careful—stay to the side, watch for cars!” Tan Yang, riding the bicycle, called back excitedly as she pedaled away. Bi Qingtang glanced at Zhao Ling next to him and smiled, “See how quickly your good student is learning?” Zhao Ling only spoke once Tan Yang had turned the corner and vanished. “She’s a good student to me. But to you? Will she make a good wife?”

Caught off guard by the question, Bi Qingtang didn’t reply at once. Zhao Ling continued, “Don’t deny it. Last weekend, when she wore that new dress, the way you looked at her—no brother looks at his sister like that.”

Bi Qingtang smiled helplessly. “Miss Zhao, why are you interrogating me as if I were on trial? I have no intention of denying it.” “I don’t know what it is that made you fall for her, but in my view, the two of you aren’t well suited.” Bi Qingtang curled his lip. “Just because you say so? Aren’t you overstepping?” Zhao Ling persisted. “You are a man of the world. In these times, your connections and skills are your lifeblood. Your wife needs to keep up with you, help you navigate social circles. Tan Yang grew up in a traditional household—she’s clever, but neither adept nor willing to mingle with all sorts of people. She has a gift for learning, could become a teacher or an office worker, rely on her knowledge for a living. So,” Zhao Ling paused, her tone sharpening, “if you truly intend to marry, you should look for a woman like Fang Ya, not Tan Yang.”

“Nonsense! Why must Bi Qingtang marry a socialite? True, Tan Yang grew up in a traditional family, but does that mean I was raised in a modern one? I keep up with the latest trends only because I’ve been in Shanghai long enough—give my little sister a few more years, she’d be the same. I may wear a suit and tie every day, but deep down, I know I could never handle a woman like Fang Ya. In this, I’m exactly like my father!” Bi Qingtang spoke with a rare trace of anger.

Zhao Ling hesitated, but pressed on, “Very well, I’ll speak plainly. What I truly worry about is Tan Yang. I’m afraid you’ll hold her back—her studies, her future, her chance at happiness.” “If she wants to study, I’ll support her. If she wants to work, I’ll help her. I am her future, I am her happiness! She doesn’t need any other opportunity!” Bi Qingtang cut Zhao Ling off forcefully. It took Zhao Ling a while to collect her thoughts before she continued, “Tan Yang is in junior high now, her classmates are a bit younger. But when she enters Jingye High School, and goes on to university—you can’t imagine the wave of free love on campuses now. Boys and girls at the age of flowers, pure and untainted, talking about Bacon and Tagore, discussing dreams and ideals, graduating together, facing society together, growing and supporting each other. That’s the kind of love I think suits Tan Yang best.”

She glanced at Bi Qingtang’s disdainful expression and went on, “I believe a young man with a good family, ambition, and a love of literature and art would attract her—she just hasn’t met him yet.” Bi Qingtang, holding his patience, replied, “Don’t think that just because you and Li He are happy, there’s only one kind of happiness in the world. Love and marriage aren’t like the math formulas you taught Tan Yang—there are no universal rules.”

Zhao Ling, unmoved, raised her voice. “But Mr. Bi, the risks I mentioned do exist—you have to admit it!” She paused, frowning. “I think, before love begins, the risks are just the tip of the iceberg. Once love enters marriage, any hidden danger could dash happiness to pieces, even lead to tragedy in the end.”

After Zhao Ling finished, the two fell silent. Suddenly, Bi Qingtang turned to her as if waking from a dream, astonished, the cigarette in his fingers falling to the ground. After a long pause, he said, word by word, “Miss Zhao, thank you for your warning. Your last words leave me treading on thin ice, peering into the abyss, as if plunged into a frozen lake!”

“Hey! Where’s Big Brother? Did he go upstairs?” Tan Yang asked Zhao Ling after riding her bike around the block.

“No, he’s gone.”

“Was it urgent? He couldn’t even wait three minutes for me to come back?”

“Probably not urgent, but I think it’s something very important—something he’d forgotten for a while, and just now, suddenly remembered.” Zhao Ling answered seriously, though still puzzled.

End of chapter.