Interlude

That afternoon, a rickshaw stopped in front of the Bi Residence on Foch Road.

At that moment, Tan Yang was draped in a woolen shawl, basking in the sun by the window of the small sitting room on the second floor, reading English. Outside, the late winter and early spring winds were biting, but inside, the fire in the Western-style fireplace snapped and crackled, just right. A servant gently pushed open the door, and seeing that Tan Yang was not napping, spoke with relief, “Madam, there’s a young lady outside, says she’s your friend.”

“What’s her surname?” Tan Yang asked.

“I asked, but she wouldn’t say.”

Tan Yang instinctively glanced at the clock—two in the afternoon, right in the middle of school hours, so it was unlikely to be a classmate. It must be one of those ladies or concubines she’d met through Bi Qingtang at some social event. With a slight frown, she asked, “She looks like a married woman?”

The servant thought for a moment and nodded.

“Let her in, then.”

Tan Yang straightened her clothes and waited for the guest to come upstairs. But just then, she heard loud voices from downstairs, as if a quarrel had broken out. Heavily pregnant and increasingly lethargic, Tan Yang sent her maid to check what was happening. A short while later, the maid returned to say it was nothing—someone had simply come to the wrong house.

Tan Yang felt a hint of suspicion.

Soon after, she saw Uncle Chen, accompanied by two male servants, forcefully escorting a woman in a purple-red coat out through the main gate. After a brief consideration, Tan Yang opened the window and called down, “Uncle Chen, what’s going on?”

Uncle Chen glanced back at the woman in the purple-red coat and replied with a smile, “Just someone who came to the wrong place, I’m taking her next door.” This time, he didn’t address her as “Young Madam.”

The woman suddenly turned, about to speak, but under Uncle Chen’s gaze, she shut her mouth and cast Tan Yang a venomous look—her face was strikingly beautiful. Almost by instinct, Tan Yang’s heart sank, and she said sternly, “Uncle Chen, let her come up!”

She had almond-shaped eyes, finely arched brows, lips tinted rose-red, beautifully shaped, with an air of seductive charm. Her hair had been iron-curled and styled in a side chignon—altogether a captivating and alluring figure. Uncle Chen, a little flustered, tried to dissuade Tan Yang, “She’s no one important, Young Madam, there’s no need for you to see her.”

Tan Yang straightened herself, resolute. “Uncle Chen, whether she matters or not, I’ll know once I speak with her.”

“The Master left for Suzhou early this morning and won’t be back till evening. Perhaps you could arrange to meet this lady when he returns?” Uncle Chen’s evasiveness only made Tan Yang more impatient. Gripping the armrest, she said irritably, “Uncle Chen, you have your work to do. Close the door behind you!”

Left with no choice, Uncle Chen exited. The sitting room fell into silence. The woman stood by the door; it was a bit warm inside, so she unfastened her purple-red coat, revealing a vermilion silk cheongsam. She was tall, her figure like a porcelain vase—slender waist, full hips and breasts, graceful curves. In such a dress, she invited stares and held the gaze of men and women alike. Tan Yang instinctively adjusted her shawl to cover her abdomen and said curtly, “Please, have a seat.”

The woman dispensed with pleasantries, walked over, and sat opposite Tan Yang. She offered a perfunctory smile and extended her hand. “Madam Bi, good day. My name is Li Cui.”

Those three words—“Madam Bi”—were like a blade, slicing through Tan Yang’s composure and stabbing at her heart. After a long moment, Tan Yang replied coldly, “Call yourself whatever you wish, but don’t address me like that.”

Seeing Tan Yang had no intention of shaking her hand, Li Cui withdrew it without embarrassment, her gaze falling on Tan Yang’s belly, a careless, practiced smile on her lips.

“You’re his wife by proper marriage, you are Madam Bi—I’m not wrong,” Li Cui said, sizing her up. Noticing the two books on the coffee table, she continued, “One look and I can tell you’re a young lady from a wealthy family—pampered, well-read, dignified, aloof. The title ‘Madam Bi’ is made for people like you. You don’t know who I am? After all this time, is it because Bi Qingtang hides it so well, or are you simply too slow to realize?”

Watching Tan Yang’s face change, Li Cui paused before saying, “I live in his little house outside—I am, naturally, his concubine. I used to sing at the Celeste, and I was quite famous for a time. Qingtang came dancing there, took a liking to me, and I stopped singing. Though I wasn’t married properly, it was all above board. When I moved into the house, Qingtang hosted a banquet—five or six tables. All his close friends know me…”

Listening to Li Cui’s thinly veiled boasting, Tan Yang interrupted impatiently, “No need to go on—I don’t care to hear it. I just want to know why you’ve come to me today.”

Li Cui smiled faintly. “Madam, you’re sharper than I expected. Two days ago, we had a bit of a falling out at his office. I went again today, but he wasn’t there. I’ve had terrible luck at cards lately and owe people money—I came to get it from Qingtang. Besides, my allowance for the month is due. I need the money but can’t find him, so I have no choice but to ask you. Sooner or later, we sisters would have to meet—just treat it as a little gift for our first meeting.”

Tan Yang relaxed into the sofa, a trace of scorn in her voice. “So you’re just here for money. You’re asking the wrong person—I have none for you.”

At this, Li Cui flared up. “Oh, you think I’m some con artist here to swindle you? I—” She paused, then smiled slyly, leaned in, and pressed her hand against Tan Yang’s waist, whispering maliciously, “In bed, when Qingtang is pleased, he likes to hold me just so. He’s so passionate—being his woman is quite a pleasure, you know…”

Tan Yang’s face went white. Losing composure, she shouted, “Get out! Leave, now!”

Uncle Chen burst in at once, glaring at Li Cui. “Had enough of life, have you? If you don’t go, you’ll wish you had when the Master returns!”

Li Cui rose, fastening her coat leisurely, a look of satisfaction on her face. “Then I’ll take my leave, Madam. Another day, let’s have tea together.”

After Li Cui left, Uncle Chen came to check on Tan Yang, only to find her face streaked with tears, trembling on the sofa. He started to speak, but Tan Yang’s anguished voice cut him off. “Out! All of you, get out! No one is to come in!”

It was after nine that evening when the gates of the Bi Residence opened, headlights flashed, and Bi Qingtang’s car pulled in. Uncle Chen waited anxiously in the courtyard. As soon as the car stopped, Uncle Chen hurried over to open the door. “Master, why are you so late?”

Bi Qingtang got out, glanced up at the rooms above, and smiled. “What’s the hurry? I got back from Suzhou two hours ago, went to the docks to fetch some goods. The freighter just arrived. Once I had everything, I came home.” He turned to the servants. “Take what’s in my car boot to the kitchen.”

“Master!” Uncle Chen interrupted.

Bi Qingtang looked at him, puzzled. “What is it? Something happened?”

He pushed open the sitting room door. Inside, it was pitch dark; the fire in the hearth long dead, the room cold. In the moonlight, he could see Tan Yang curled in a corner of the sofa. The smile he’d prepared froze on his face. He turned on the light and walked quietly to her side. Her face was still stained with tears, eyes closed, neither fully asleep nor awake. Glancing at the fireplace, he placed the tray of cut watermelon on the table and stepped out, lowering his voice to rebuke the servants outside.

“Are you all dead? The fire’s out and none of you thought to stoke it? When I’m not here, do you all take advantage of the Madam’s gentle nature?” The servants bustled to bring in coal, muttering, “Madam wouldn’t let anyone in.”

Bi Qingtang scowled. “Useless! If she catches cold sleeping in this chill, you’ll all be sent back to the countryside to till the fields!”

When he returned, Tan Yang had opened her eyes and was staring at him, tears and despair brimming in her gaze. Bi Qingtang crossed the room and knelt before her, speaking gently. “Little Sister, don’t cry. I’ll explain everything.” He slipped his arms around her, but she struggled, her voice choked with tears. “Let go of me, let me go!”

He only held her tighter, smiling, “Be good, don’t move around, or what will happen to our precious little one? Let’s go somewhere warm. Vent your anger as much as you like, and when you’re done, I’ll explain in detail.”

Sitting on the bed in the bedroom, Tan Yang silently wiped her tears. When Bi Qingtang tried to stroke her hair, she recoiled in disgust. He gave a helpless laugh, moving closer. “Don’t cry anymore. With you crying like this, I don’t even know how to begin.”

He looked at her and calmly began.

“About five or six years ago, I think before you came to Shanghai, I was out with some friends at the Celeste. Li Cui was singing there, at the height of her fame. A few rich young men were madly chasing her, and she played them all for fools. I joked that a woman like her needed someone like me to handle her. My friends egged me on, and I half-seriously pursued her. I wanted her beauty and fame as decoration; she wanted my money and influence for support. We quickly reached an understanding. She wanted security, my friends pushed for it, and in Shanghai, a man of status keeping a mistress is hardly unusual. I had no wife at the time, nothing to worry about, so I simply held a few tables, invited friends, and made her my concubine.”

He chuckled. “Funny thing—she was good at charming men, I was good at charming women, so we charmed each other. It all looked very happy, but it was just a game, and we both knew it. So, a year later, when I found her in bed with a gigolo, I wasn’t even angry—just relieved. Neither of us took it seriously, so why fret? Because of that, when she begged me to forgive her, I agreed easily. Later, as things got better between us, I saw less and less of her. She only stayed on as my concubine for the little house and her monthly allowance. Recently, she got involved with a wealthy man from the South Seas, wanted to squeeze some money from me and run off with him. I’m not a fool, so I refused. She made a scene at my company the other day, so I had her thrown out, joking that my wife kept me on a tight leash and I had no money. I never thought she’d be bold enough to come here and upset my Little Sister like this. Had I known, I would have given her whatever she wanted just to spare you the tears.”

He offered his handkerchief to Tan Yang, but she didn’t take it. After a long silence, she spoke, brows furrowed. “So, you’re entirely innocent, as if she forced you to take her as your concubine.”

Bi Qingtang forced a laugh. “She wasn’t a good woman, and I wasn’t a good man. If I’d kept on that way, I’d have rotted to the core—dawdling through life with a few concubines. Thank heavens you came, Little Sister, sent by fate to save me! Only then did I get the chance to be a good man, a good husband, have a good home.”

He finished, gazing at her with deep feeling, but to no avail. Tan Yang replied coldly, “Save you? Who saves whom? You’re an expert at charming women, I read romantic novels, so you use romantic lines on me. Unfortunately, I have nothing special about me except a bit of self-awareness. Who could I possibly save? I’m doing well just not to drag anyone down.”

A flicker of unease crossed Bi Qingtang’s heart. He grasped her hand anxiously. “Let’s keep to the matter at hand. I’ve never deceived you. When I married you, it was with all my heart, wanting our little life together. Since our wedding, no matter how busy or tired I am, I hurry home. I haven’t been near any places of amusement, and Li Cui is a concubine in name only. You can ask her yourself—since we married, have I ever visited her? I can’t even remember where that little house is!”

As he spoke, his emotions rose, as if he were the one grievously wronged. He waited for her to collapse in his arms, sobbing. He’d decided she could cry a little, but not too long—after all, she hadn’t eaten, and someone pregnant can’t withstand much. He’d comfort her, feed her, give her watermelon, and settle her to rest—a good night’s sleep would restore her.

While Bi Qingtang was strategizing, Tan Yang suddenly asked, “You didn’t see her after we married, but before that?”

He froze. She pressed on, “After you returned from Hong Kong and proposed to me, by day you held my hand, watched movies, laughed, sent me home—then did you go to her? Were you courting me with noble intentions while consorting with someone you didn’t even respect? What kind of man are you, really? What do you think, what do you do? Why can’t I ever understand you?”

As she spoke, her grief grew, and soon her words dissolved into sobs.

Bi Qingtang was struck dumb by her questions, feeling the situation slip entirely from his grasp. He was left defenseless, unable to explain. This time, he was genuinely at a loss.

In truth, he should have realized long ago—his belief that he could control Tan Yang was nothing more than self-deception.