Farewell

Suddenly, the music stopped in the grand hall, and the lights blazed on. The guests were taken aback, only to see Fang Ya standing at the top of the stairs, smiling serenely as she delivered a welcoming speech. Tan Yang turned to look, intending to withdraw her hand from her dance partner’s grasp, when she felt someone seize her arm with sudden force. She was pulled away from her partner, lost her balance, and stumbled into the arms of the one who had dragged her. Tan Yang, annoyed, turned to see Bi Qingtang glaring at her, his anger unmistakable. She had never seen Bi Qingtang so furious and was momentarily at a loss. He tightened his grip on her wrist and strode out of the dance floor, leading her away in long strides.

Bi Qingtang’s pace was swift, and Tan Yang, dressed in a cheongsam and high heels, struggled to keep up, irritation welling up inside her. She snapped, “Let go of me! Let go!” But Bi Qingtang paid her no heed, exiting through the back door of the house before finally releasing her, his back turned, silent. Tan Yang, still simmering with anger, stared at his back without a word.

Usually, a woman’s little tricks and tempers are the wiles of those seeking affection, something Bi Qingtang understood and was willing to indulge. Tan Yang, however, lacked such artifice. She possessed a pure, intuitive cleverness, a wisdom that hovered between that of an adult and a child. Her laughter, her petulance, all carried the capriciousness of youth, which made Bi Qingtang cherish and embrace her unreservedly. Sometimes she overstepped, provoking his ire, but he never held it against her, for subconsciously he believed her love for him was genuine, and so his boundaries expanded without limit. Today, Tan Yang had angered him, but the source of his vexation was jealousy and a sudden doubt in his own ability to control this young woman. What infuriated him most was his inability to admit his jealousy—it would be a denial of his magnanimity; nor could he acknowledge his insecurity—it would undermine his dignity. His temper truly flared, and any other woman would have done her utmost to appease him. With Tan Yang, he sought no clever means of reconciliation—he just wanted an excuse, something Tan Yang was unaware of.

In the biting wind, the two stood in silence for a long time. Tan Yang, shivering in her thin cheongsam, was both angry and cold. She finally turned to open the door and return inside, but as she reached for the handle, Bi Qingtang quickly blocked her way, pressing his hand against the doorframe. “Let me go back, I’m cold!” Tan Yang met his gaze, stubbornly raising her voice. Seeing her fierce determination, Bi Qingtang was so angry his teeth ached—she had the audacity to act aggrieved after causing trouble! The words he had held back burst forth, “I taught you to dance, and now you go dance with someone else!” The moment he spoke, he was annoyed at his own loss of composure, yet a sense of relief washed over him. Deep down, he longed for her explanation.

The obstinate anger on Tan Yang’s face melted into childish grievance, tears welling in her eyes. “Why do you only blame me? Didn’t you dance with someone else too? You’re so close, her home is yours as well!” She blurted out, then turned away to wipe her tears, deeply wounded.

Bi Qingtang was momentarily stunned, then burst out laughing, “Little sister, so you’re angry at me!” Tan Yang was both shocked and annoyed at his reaction, “You dare laugh!” Bi Qingtang hurriedly grabbed her hand, explaining, “Little sister! I am indeed close with Fang Ya, but only because she nearly became my stepmother. This house was originally my father’s, and I lived here too. She spent two years here with my father, though they were never officially married. After my father passed, I moved out and gave her the house. You’ve let your imagination run wild!” He could not help but laugh as he spoke.

Tan Yang was both glad to learn the truth and embarrassed by her misunderstanding. She wanted to laugh but felt awkward, her cheeks still stained with tears. Seeing her like this, Bi Qingtang’s affection grew; he took out a handkerchief to gently wipe her tears, and softly asked, “Little sister, what’s the name of the gentleman you just danced with?”

“His name… Wang…” Tan Yang blinked, “Wang Haozhe!”

Bi Qingtang scoffed, “What nonsense! His name is Wang Yiyang. You danced with him and didn’t even know his name.”

Tan Yang, crestfallen, replied, “He told me, but I didn’t pay attention!”

Bi Qingtang was delighted but unable to express it, so he pinched her cheek hard and laughed, “What a little fool.” The clouds dispersed, and their affection grew more intense.

When the ball ended, Bi Qingtang was about to leave with Tan Yang when Fang Ya came out with a carved rosewood box, insisting Tan Yang accept it as a gift for their first meeting. Tan Yang recognized such boxes were used for storing women’s jewelry and, seeing its size, guessed it must be extremely valuable, so she politely refused. As they pushed the box back and forth, Bi Qingtang suddenly spoke up, his voice firm, “Take it.” In the moment Tan Yang hesitated, Fang Ya pressed the box into her arms, gently whispering in her ear, “Take it quickly, or someone will be upset.”

Tan Yang had no choice but to carry the rosewood box into the car. As they drove, Bi Qingtang gestured for her to open it. Tan Yang carefully lifted the lid; the streetlights outside were not bright, but their glow inside the box dazzled her eyes. Three layers, each filled with gold and jade jewelry, a complete set, exuded a commanding aura, yet the designs were elegant and dignified. As the car moved, the jewelry trembled, displaying their long-restrained beauty, and Tan Yang’s heart trembled with them.

Bi Qingtang said in an offhand tone, “This is the set of jewelry my great-grandmother wore when she received her title as a second-rank lady. My father intended to marry Fang Ya, so he gave her this set. But he died unexpectedly, and the wedding never happened.”

Tan Yang slowly closed the lid, understanding the profound significance within. She was both blissfully happy and apprehensive. “Big brother, should I really keep this?”

“Didn’t Fang Ya give it to you already?”

“Maybe you should keep it for me first.”

Bi Qingtang frowned in surprise, “Why?”

“I’m afraid it’ll be stolen if I keep it at home—it’s so valuable.”

Bi Qingtang put his arm around her shoulder and laughed softly, “Don’t worry, no one would dare steal it! If it’s stolen, it’ll be returned to you intact within a day!”

Tan Yang looked at Bi Qingtang, seeking reassurance. He laughed heartily and said with mock seriousness, “Big fish eat little fish!”

The joke from three years ago still lingered in his mind; his heart was so vast, and perhaps her place in it was far more significant than she imagined. She sat quietly, clutching the rosewood box, a sense of happiness more vivid than the promise contained in those precious jewels.

Promises and feelings—which should a woman in love trust? The former may not be real, the latter not necessarily illusory. Truth and falsehood mingle, wrestling together—this is the true face and seductive charm of love in real life. Such love, though not pure, remains moving.

Bi Qingtang saw Tan Yang lost in her own thoughts and leaned over with a smile, “What’s wrong? Regretting being with the big rascal?” Tan Yang glanced at him, mischievously mimicking his gesture from three years ago, forming her hand into a gun and aiming at his chest. Bi Qingtang grabbed her hand, feigning anger, “How heartless! Tell me, do you know what crime you’ve committed?” Tan Yang blushed, her eyes darting, and answered with a smile, “Murder, of course.” Bi Qingtang released her hand, sat up straight, patted the rosewood box on her knee, and replied nonchalantly, “Wrong—much more serious than that.” Tan Yang pretended not to know, her cheeks flushed.

On an early spring day, Bi Qingtang came to pick up Tan Yang from school. As soon as she got in the car, he told her he had urgent business and needed to go to Hong Kong tomorrow. “How long will you be gone?” “Three to five months, I suppose,” he answered, helplessly. The news caught Tan Yang off guard; she sat frozen, unable to respond. Bi Qingtang’s mood was already complicated and unsettled, and seeing Tan Yang like this made him feel worse. He gripped her hand tightly; neither spoke.

After a long while, the driver asked, “Where to, Mr. Bi?” “Little sister, where do you want to go?” Bi Qingtang asked gently. Tan Yang shook her head, saying nothing. Bi Qingtang sighed, suggesting they get something to eat first, then see a movie.

The meal passed tastelessly, the sudden parting weighing on them. Though they tried to joke and talk to hide their turmoil, their forced laughter added a touch of melancholy to the impending farewell. Both struggled to find an escape from the suffocating atmosphere.

The Hollywood film played out on the screen, foreign men and women expressing their love in bold, Western fashion. Tan Yang stared at the images, every movement clear, yet she could not follow the plot. Bi Qingtang, too, was distracted; he had forgotten to buy snacks, and the theater was packed, noisy enough to drown out their voices. He regretted suggesting the film, but there was nothing to do but wait for it to end, after which their separation would follow.

The film ended with a grand reunion—the lovers, after trials and tribulations, embraced and kissed passionately, so long and fervently that even the audience felt embarrassed and breathless. Tan Yang’s feelings were complicated as she watched, and in that electric moment, the scene struck her heart, causing it to tremble. Since teaching her to dance, Bi Qingtang had not made a single inappropriate move towards her in over two months. Tan Yang understood this was his care for her, a protection beyond that of a lover, willingly indulging her youthful ignorance against his own wishes.

Yet, what should modern lovers do or not do—Tan Yang was uncertain. Watching the deep kiss on screen, she nervously stole a glance at him. To her surprise, she met his gaze; she did not know how long he had been watching her, but in the dim light, his eyes burned with passionate intensity.

Realizing Tan Yang had sensed the deep emotions he hid in the darkness, Bi Qingtang tore away all concealment. With a sudden force, he drew Tan Yang tightly into his arms, lifted his left hand to gently tilt her delicate chin, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips softly to hers, restraining his eagerness to give her a tender, lingering kiss—a beautiful memory of her first kiss.

At that moment, the words “THE END” appeared in ornate script on the screen, and instantly, the cinema lights blazed on.