Shattered Glass

When she came down from the upper floor of the jewelry store, she happened to pass by the first-floor jewelry counter. Business was booming, the place was crowded. Tan Yang pressed her hand to her neck. Bi Qingtang asked what was wrong. She replied that the necklace was too heavy and she wasn’t used to wearing it. Bi Qingtang burst into hearty laughter.

Just as they reached the door, a coquettish voice called from behind, “Boss Bi, Boss Bi, how long has it been since we last met?” Tan Yang turned toward the sound and saw a tall woman, wearing a yellow cheongsam with large, garish flowers and a high slit, leaning languidly against the counter, winking in their direction. Her face was stark white, her lips a vivid red; makeup thick and bold, her curvaceous figure accentuated by a dress a size too small, the buttons at her chest strained to the point of bursting. This woman was garish in every sense—a vulgar beauty, so exaggerated it assaulted the senses.

Bi Qingtang looked at her, puzzled. The woman smiled, twisted her shoulders, and complained, “Boss Bi, what a terrible memory you have. I’m Xiao Qiuzhen, from the Changsan establishment…” But before she could finish, Bi Qingtang shot her a vicious glare, waved his hand to silence her. Xiao Qiuzhen glanced at Tan Yang, smiled smugly, and said no more.

Bi Qingtang gently stroked Tan Yang’s back and said softly, “Little sister, go wait for me in the car. I’ll be right there.” Tan Yang glanced at Xiao Qiuzhen, who was idly fussing with her crimson nails. Turning back, she found Bi Qingtang looking at her with patient affection. After a moment’s thought, Tan Yang turned and left.

In the car, Tan Yang sat by the window near the jewelry store’s entrance, able to see inside. She didn’t know what Xiao Qiuzhen said, but Bi Qingtang, impatient, pulled out his wallet and tossed her a wad of cash. He made to leave, but Xiao Qiuzhen grabbed his arm. Bi Qingtang, flustered, glanced toward the car and his eyes met Tan Yang’s. Agitated, he broke free, then threw his entire wallet at her. Xiao Qiuzhen beamed as she opened it. Bi Qingtang strode out of the store.

As soon as he got into the car, Bi Qingtang exploded, “Damn it! She must be tired of living, daring to extort me!” Tan Yang said nothing, but Uncle Chen in the front seat spoke up, “Young master, you needn’t trouble yourself with such riffraff.” Bi Qingtang calmed himself, glanced at Tan Yang, who sat with her lips pressed together, lost in thought.

He put his arm around her shoulders, smiling, “Little sister, let’s have Western food. I made a reservation!” “I’m tired. I want to go home,” Tan Yang replied. Bi Qingtang raised his hand to smooth her hair, speaking gently, “You need to eat, even if you’re tired. How about Hunan cuisine, your favorite?” Instinctively, Tan Yang leaned away. Bi Qingtang’s hand hovered awkwardly in the air. “I want to go home,” she repeated stubbornly.

He withdrew his hand with a forced smile, “Alright, alright, I’ll take you home.” For the rest of the drive, Bi Qingtang kept up a stream of conversation, but Tan Yang only answered absently. As they neared her house, Bi Qingtang fell silent, then said solemnly, “Little sister, don’t misunderstand what just happened. Don’t take it to heart. She’s utterly unimportant.”

“What reason would she have to extort you? Why give her money for nothing?” Tan Yang’s quick grasp of the crux of the matter caught Bi Qingtang off guard. Some things he simply didn’t want to say, uncertain how she’d react. He forced a laugh, “Silly girl, why else? I owe her money, that’s all.”

“Is it only money you owe her?” Tan Yang’s question made him pause. He answered with gravity, “Yes. Only money.”

Tan Yang turned away, gazing out the window. Bi Qingtang reached for her hand; she did not pull away. Feeling the diamond ring on her finger, Bi Qingtang was reassured. In his experience, no matter the trouble between a man and a woman, as long as she didn’t object to his touch, everything could be smoothed over. Besides, their wedding was imminent.

They stopped at Tan Yang’s door. She didn’t hurry to get out; Bi Qingtang caressed her hand, smiling. Suddenly, Tan Yang spoke, “Big brother, could we postpone our wedding?” Bi Qingtang’s hand froze. After a moment, he patted her hand, feigning nonchalance, “Why? Because of that woman just now?” Tan Yang shook her head, “Not entirely. It just feels rushed. Sometimes, I feel I don’t really know you.”

Bi Qingtang frowned, baffled. He said nothing, lit a cigarette with an ivory holder, and smoked gloomily.

After a long silence, Uncle Chen couldn’t hold back. He turned around, agitated, “Miss Tan, marriage is no trifling matter! You must think carefully. The wedding is less than a month away. The announcement was in the papers starting this Monday, invitations have been sent. If you delay now, what about all those friends? Where does that leave young master’s pride?” Tan Yang lowered her head, stubbornly gripping the window. Uncle Chen looked to Bi Qingtang for support, but he just smoked, oblivious. Uncle Chen, exasperated, repeated, “Miss Tan, marriage is not a child’s game!”

At last, Bi Qingtang finished his cigarette, sighed, and turned to Tan Yang with gentle resignation. “Alright, as you wish.” She nodded, “Thank you, big brother.” He gave a bitter smile at her gratitude. “I’m going in now.” “Won’t you invite me in?” “You’ve had a long day too. You should rest.” With a helpless nod, Bi Qingtang opened her door. Tan Yang walked a few steps before hearing him call after her with a forced cheerfulness, “Little sister, even if you treat this like a game, I’ll play along. If you change your mind about the wedding, just call me.” She turned to see him smiling bravely, his eyes full of unease and reluctance.

That night, Tan Yang lay sleepless in the stifling Shanghai summer, air thick with humidity. Restless, she glanced at the clock on her desk—the hour hand nearing midnight. She tugged the thin summer quilt higher. Suddenly, the telephone on her desk rang, shattering the night’s silence. Not wanting to wake the neighbors, she jumped out of bed barefoot to answer.

“Hello?”

“It’s me, big brother.”

Tan Yang smiled, “I knew it was you. No one else knows my number.”

Bi Qingtang chuckled awkwardly; then both fell silent, the faint sound of a gramophone playing Peking opera—‘Dingjun Mountain’—drifting down the line.

“Big brother, aren’t you sleeping?” she asked softly.

“Mmm,” Bi Qingtang paused, then added, “I was waiting for your call.” There was a note of disappointment in his voice. Realizing it, he hastily tried to cover, “Well, if you didn’t call, I’d call you. Nothing to it!”

Tan Yang didn’t know how to respond, and Bi Qingtang sensed it too. He sighed, “If you don’t want to marry me so soon, I’ll find you another place to live. That old house gets so cold in winter, and you hate the cold.”

Tan Yang felt guilty. “No, no, you don’t need to trouble yourself.”

“Trouble is good! What I fear most is you not troubling me.” The words slipped out, and even Bi Qingtang seemed surprised, embarrassed by the sudden silence.

After a while, he changed to a lighter tone, “Little sister, it’s late. Go to sleep. Leave the phone off the hook—I’ll play you some opera.”

Tan Yang agreed, set the receiver on her desk, and climbed back into bed, falling asleep quickly.

The next day, Tan Yang didn’t wake until the sun was high. Lifting the receiver, she still heard Peking opera playing from his gramophone. She quietly hung up, washed, and sat down to study. At noon, the phone rang again; Bi Qingtang had just woken and asked if she’d slept well. He told her he’d come take her out to lunch and then to the Tianchan Theater for Peking opera. “Big brother, I’ve made plans with my classmates to buy books. School’s starting soon!” “Which bookstore?” “Not sure yet. We’re meeting at the school gate to decide.”

Bi Qingtang hesitated, “Little sister, I just had a dream and I’m still upset about it.” Tan Yang laughed, “Who gets angry at a dream? What happened?” “I dreamt you threw a childish tantrum, and instead of delaying the wedding, you took off the ring and gave it back to me, breaking off the engagement.” Tan Yang glanced nervously at the diamond ring she’d left in her pen holder the night before.

When Tan Yang and her classmates came out of the bookstore, arms full of books, it was already dusk. Outside, in the glow of sunset, Bi Qingtang stood by his car, smoking, cigarette butts scattered at his feet. At the sight of Tan Yang, he stubbed out the cigarette and strode over, smiling. Her friends, envious, muttered that their brothers would never treat them so well.

Bi Qingtang took Tan Yang’s books with a paternal air, gently scolding, “Listen to your friends—so sensible! Not like you, spoiled and always worrying me!”

After her friends left, Bi Qingtang put the books in the car, then turned and reached for Tan Yang’s hand, beaming, “Come, let’s…” But he froze mid-sentence, abruptly grabbing her other hand—both hands, pale and bare. “Where’s the ring?” he demanded, his voice rising in fury. Passersby stopped, startled by the sight of a grown man yelling at a young lady. Embarrassed and flustered, Tan Yang snatched her hands away, stubbornly retorting, “It’s none of your business! Whether I wear it or not is up to me!”

Bi Qingtang was taken aback, his breath quickening, throat working as he struggled for composure. “Fine. I understand,” he said at last. With that, he opened the car door, climbed in without a backward glance, and slammed it shut.

The engine started, the car roared off, leaving only drifting dust in the twilight, and Tan Yang standing alone amid the waning light.

One day, two, three—half a month slipped by. That night, Bi Qingtang came home drunk and collapsed onto the sofa, refusing to move. When Uncle Chen tried to help him upstairs, he lashed out, “Don’t touch me! I’ll sleep right here tonight!” Patting the phone beside him, he muttered, “I… I’m waiting for her call. She’ll call me tonight, it’s almost the eighth. She must be anxious too.” Before he finished, he fell asleep, oblivious.

Uncle Chen could only fetch a woolen blanket, covering him before going upstairs.

The next morning, the gramophone downstairs played ‘The Drunken Concubine,’ with the line, “The moon rises above the sea, the jade rabbit appears in the east…”

Peking opera is called a national treasure—not for its antiquity or its artistry, but because, in its marrow, it carries the innate temperament of our ancient land. Gongs and drums resound, the melodies are elegant and winding; to the ear, it is lively, but upon reflection, it is a solitude enjoyed alone.

In the morning haze, Bi Qingtang sat hunched on the sofa, the wool blanket trailing on the floor, marking a night of torment. His eyes were fixed on the Suffering Buddha on the table, Earth Store Bodhisattva’s hunchbacked figure wearing a smile that was somewhere between compassion and mockery. Suddenly, Bi Qingtang seized the heavy glass ashtray and hurled it at the statue. With a crash, his hand covered the flying shards, blood instantly welling and mingling with the pain.

End of Chapter 23 (21) of The Jade Sandalwood Chronicles.