21 (19) The Proposal

The brilliant lights inside the cinema shattered the romantic atmosphere that Bi Qingtang had so painstakingly cultivated, like a firecracker exploding with a bang. Tan Yang, suddenly brought back to her senses, covered her face with both hands.

That kiss, only a centimeter away, was lost before it ever began.

Bi Qingtang slammed his palm hard against the armrest, cursing his own extraordinarily "good" luck. He reached out, seized Tan Yang’s wrist, and pulled her up from her seat. Even after they left the cinema and got into the car, Bi Qingtang, still fuming, said to Tan Yang, “No more movies next time—let’s go to the Peking Opera!” Then, as if worried she hadn’t caught his meaning, he added, “There are private boxes in the theater.”

Up front sat the chauffeur and an attendant. The chauffeur had worked with Bi Qingtang for a long time and knew his place, pretending not to hear a thing. The attendant, who usually ran errands for Bi Qingtang and was a cheeky, irreverent fellow, broke into a knowing smile at Bi Qingtang’s words. Seeing this in the rearview mirror, Tan Yang, anxious lest her secret be discovered, pouted and quickly added, “There really are so many people at the movies—it's so crowded!” Bi Qingtang, as if deliberately contradicting her, retorted, “I’m not afraid of the crowd.” Tan Yang, exasperated, stamped her foot and pinched his arm hard. Bi Qingtang laughed readily, slipped his arm around her, and whispered in her ear, “That hurt.” Tan Yang frowned, hesitated a moment, then gently rubbed the spot she’d pinched. Bi Qingtang caught her hand and held it tight. “Little sister, take a two-month leave from school and come to Hong Kong with me.” Tan Yang was taken aback, then shook her head. Bi Qingtang sighed, a little disappointed, and hugged her even tighter.

They drove on in silence, savoring every second; the thought of parting made each moment together all the more precious. Some distance before reaching Tan Yang’s home, Bi Qingtang had the chauffeur stop the car, and they continued on foot.

The "Night Shanghai" sung by stylish young women spoke only to the city's most decadent corners. In the alleys, ordinary families lived their daily lives, shielded from the city’s glitz and glamour. Just a few streets away, it was another world. It was only a little past nine, yet on either side the households had already shut themselves in. The alley was quiet; a stray cat mewed lazily from a rooftop—after all, it was still spring.

“Little sister, there’s no one else here now. Don’t you have something to say to me?” Bi Qingtang smiled, drawing Tan Yang’s hand through his arm. She took his arm and gazed quietly at the ground, the restless scent of spring dust in the air. “If I say I don’t want you to go, will you stay?” she asked. No ornate words, but in all the sorrowful language of parting, none was more heartrending—or more difficult for both of them. “Little sister, I…” Bi Qingtang was at a loss, and forced himself to say, “I have to go, but I’ll be back as soon as I can!” Hearing this, Tan Yang nodded over and over, wiping tears from her eyes, still managing to say obediently, “I know, I know…” Seeing her like this, Bi Qingtang’s heart ached unbearably. He pulled her into his arms, wanting to say more but unable to find the words. When feeling runs deep, words are always inadequate.

In the quiet spring night, they held each other for what seemed an eternity. The street corner grew dimmer, and the lights in the houses along the lane gradually went out. Bi Qingtang gently brushed Tan Yang’s hair back from her ear and murmured, “Little sister, may I kiss you?” His voice was earnest and reverent, utterly devoid of any wantonness. To refuse would almost seem as though she were the one with something to hide. Tan Yang softly whispered her assent.

Bi Qingtang lightly caressed her cheek, slowly lowering his head. Tan Yang’s lips trembled with nerves, and he smiled gently, approaching her, brushing a tender kiss at the corner of her mouth to soothe her unease. After a while, as Tan Yang grew accustomed to the touch and began to relax, just as she was about to savor this new sensation, he unexpectedly drew closer, his tongue flickering across her lips. Startled, Tan Yang gasped, “You…” but before she could finish, his tongue found its way in. Bi Qingtang patiently stroked her back to comfort her, so after a moment’s gentle struggle, she quieted.

Whether urgent or slow, their entangled lips and tongues drew Tan Yang into a strange, secluded world, cut off from everything else. She felt dizzy, her heart pounding. Bi Qingtang’s breath grew increasingly ragged, his kisses more fervent, one arm pressing Tan Yang close. The kiss began to carry the taste of desire. Tan Yang, lost between intoxication and anxiety, instinctively raised her hands and clutched at Bi Qingtang’s back. At almost the same moment, he paused, a muffled groan escaping his throat. Though inexperienced, Tan Yang was startled by the sudden change in his body. She instinctively tried to pull away, but Bi Qingtang didn’t stop her, instead pressing her against the wall, leaving no space between them.

Tan Yang, frightened by his urgency, was transfixed. Bi Qingtang kissed her cheeks and earlobes with abandon, his voice low and beguiling in her ear: “Be good, little sister, don’t be afraid, be good.” Tan Yang turned her face away, eyes half-closed. She didn’t know what would happen next, but her reluctance to leave him held her in place. In the fevered tangle of their embrace, his hands wandered tenderly over her, carefully avoiding her most sensitive spots. Time slipped by. Tan Yang no longer tried to avoid him, surrendering to his love and his caresses. Enchanted, she barely noticed as her clothes and underclothes were unfastened, his hands pressing against her bare skin, fingers deftly gliding, coming to rest over her most secret place.

Tan Yang tried to pull his hand away, but it was no use. Helpless, she pressed her head against his chest, tears streaming down her face. In a small voice, she said, “You can’t do this.” Bi Qingtang’s hand stayed where it was, unmoving. He bent his head to kiss her fragrant black hair, his voice trembling, “Little sister, I’ve held back for so long, but I can’t any more.” He was breathing heavily, and just as he was about to go further, barking came from a courtyard diagonally across the way, followed by the sound of a door opening and a middle-aged woman with a northern accent cursing her son for wetting the bed—shouting and beating him as he bawled. It was a raucous, unlovely scene, but what mattered was that it shattered the secret, fevered atmosphere of the moment.

Irritated, Bi Qingtang could only watch as Tan Yang slipped from his arms, wrapped her coat tightly around herself, and ran to her door. Wu Ma had left it open for her; she hurried inside, bolted the door, and crouched on the floor, trying to calm herself as she wept in frustration.

Bi Qingtang, brows knitted, followed her to the door. Hearing the soft sobs from within, he grew even more troubled, gently rapping on the door and calling anxiously, “Little sister, little sister.” There was no reply. He didn’t dare raise his voice, for fear of drawing Wu Ma’s attention and making Tan Yang even more embarrassed. He stood there a long time, until finally, with no other choice, he sighed and said, “Little sister, I’ll go now. Rest well. When I return, I’ll make it up to you.” Taking a lingering look at the door, hands in his pockets, he turned away, his spirits low.

The moment Bi Qingtang opened the car door, the attendant in the front seat waggled his eyebrows meaningfully, “Boss Bi, you’ve been seeing Miss Tan off for two whole hours!” Bi Qingtang shot him a murderous glare and slammed the car door. A torrent of curses followed, leaving the attendant completely bewildered—but at least Bi Qingtang had found an outlet for his pent-up frustration.

The next day, when Tan Yang came home from school, she found a large bouquet of fiery red roses on her writing desk, with a pale pink card nestled among them. She opened the card—it was Bi Qingtang’s handwriting: “Little sister, forgive me for my recklessness last night.” Frowning, she squeezed the card, then threw herself on her bed and began to cry in wounded indignation.

At that moment, Bi Qingtang was on a steamship, gazing out at the endless sea, full of regret. If last night’s recklessness had been a mistake, then the hastily written apology card he’d left before boarding that morning was a mistake on top of a mistake. For a man in his thirties, hardly inexperienced with women, how could he commit such a rookie error? But when you care too much, you lose your head—he knew that now, whether he liked it or not.

As soon as he set foot in Hong Kong, he urgently sent a telegram to Tan Yang. It was only a few words: “Yet I’m glad for my recklessness—I do not regret it.” The tone was as blunt and headstrong as a lovesick youth, and Bi Qingtang had to laugh at himself when he reread it.

Alone in Shanghai, Tan Yang’s longing grew wild as weeds. She missed him desperately—every day felt endless. Fortunately, Jingye Middle School’s strict discipline and heavy workload kept her occupied. Every three days, Bi Qingtang sent a telegram; the messages seldom varied, but waiting for them became her sweetest comfort, slicing the long, lonely days into smaller pieces, each one filled with bittersweet anticipation.

As the days grew warmer, and early June arrived, Bi Qingtang wired to say his business was concluded and he’d be back in Shanghai within a week. Childlike in her joy, Tan Yang clutched the telegram and danced with delight. From that moment on, she kept her ears pricked for the sound of cars at the entrance to the lane—each time she dashed out and was disappointed, but hope always drew her out again for the next.

Four days later, walking home from school, Tan Yang turned the corner and saw Bi Qingtang’s car parked at the entrance to the alley. Her heart leaped with joy, and she raced home breathlessly, nearly collapsing against the gate. Bi Qingtang, sitting in the parlor facing the entrance, heard her and rushed out in great strides. Three months is not long, but for lovers it is an eternity. He seized Tan Yang in his arms, holding her tightly, letting the solid warmth of his embrace melt away the bitterness of their longing.

Who knows how long they stood there, until the bustle of passersby in the lane reminded Bi Qingtang to close the gate and lead Tan Yang back into the parlor. His movements were abrupt, almost urgent.

As soon as they entered, Tan Yang stopped short. The table, the chairs, even the floor were piled with colorful gift boxes. She looked at Bi Qingtang in bewilderment. He gave a wry smile. “I wanted to pick you up at school, but there were too many things—there wouldn’t have been room for you in the car!” He helped her into a chair and knelt by her side. “Little sister, guess what I bought for you?” Tan Yang glanced at the countless gifts, and protested, “There are so many, I couldn’t guess them all by morning!”

Bi Qingtang chuckled softly, took her hand, and spoke with deep feeling. “I missed you so much. Life in Hong Kong was hard. I didn’t know what to do, so every time I thought of you, I went out and bought you something—in less than a month, I’d bought all this.” He gestured at the mountain of gifts. “Then I thought, this isn’t right. If my business takes three or five months, I’ll have to hire a freighter just to bring everything back to Shanghai!” As he said this, his expression grew serious, his tone solemn. “So I bought this instead.” From his pocket he produced a small red velvet jewelry box. Opening it, he revealed a ring; the diamond, no bigger than a soybean, caught the sunlight and scattered it in dazzling colors. Tan Yang was stunned.

Holding her wrist tightly, Bi Qingtang spoke with heartfelt earnestness. “Little sister, will you marry me?”

End of chapter.