Variation 35 (33)

Tan Yang’s barrage of questions left Bi Qingtang at a complete loss. He held her in his arms, trying to placate her with gentle words, but his lack of confidence showed as he dodged the issue.

Unfortunately, Tan Yang had no patience for his evasions. Furious, she snapped, “Take your hands off me. I feel sick—your touch disgusts me!” Startled, Bi Qingtang slowly released her, his pride wounded, yet he forced a smile, “Little sister, couples quarrel, but if there’s something, just say it. If I’m wrong, I’ll admit it—punish me however you wish. But please, don’t say things that cut too deeply. If we’re to spend our days together, how disheartening it would be to remember such words.”

Tan Yang glanced back at him coldly. “Spend our days together? With someone like you, who would ever want that?” She paused, then raised her voice, “I want a divorce by agreement. Go spend your life playing with your mistresses. I made a mistake, I chose wrong, but that’s my fault—I’ll change, isn’t that enough?”

Her words made Bi Qingtang’s face turn pale, then livid. He seized her wrist and, gritting his teeth, growled, “I’ve told you more than once—marriage is not a child’s game! Stop using delaying the wedding or divorce agreements as a way to vent your anger!”

Meeting his gaze, Tan Yang’s eyes filled with tears. In despair, she said, “I know marriage isn’t a game. That’s why I refuse to muddle through, to marry blindly, to play the tolerant wife. If I’d been more cautious marrying you, maybe none of this would have happened.”

“So you regret marrying me?” Bi Qingtang asked in a low voice, his brows tightly knit. Tan Yang didn’t answer, but pulled her hand free, wiping her tears with wounded dignity. Seeing her like this, Bi Qingtang’s heart softened with guilt. He sighed, laid a hand on her shoulder, and forced a bitter smile. “What’s done is done—don’t regret it.”

She turned away, heartbroken. “What happened this time makes me realize you might not love me as early and as deeply as you claim. Maybe you were just sweet-talking me. I can’t help but feel,” she hesitated, choosing her words carefully, “that this marriage was nothing but a fraud.”

Her final words struck like a match to sulfur. Bi Qingtang recoiled, then exploded in fury. He raged at her, calling her childish, saying she spoke nonsense, even cursing that she’d lost both her mind and her conscience. Tan Yang trembled with anger at his outburst and screamed hysterically, “What right do you have to be angry? You think you’re in the right?”

Speechless, Bi Qingtang slumped onto the bed. Deep down, he knew the real source of his anger—he was terrified of her doubting his sincerity in marriage.

While Bi Qingtang was lost in his turmoil, Tan Yang lay on the bed, weeping ever more bitterly. When he finally came to his senses, he hurried to comfort her, blaming himself over and over. One moment he admitted his temper was wrong, the next he confessed he should have ended things with Li Cui sooner. No apology or kind word could soothe her. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he saw it was already past two in the morning. Anxious, he said, “Little sister, let’s stop fighting. Eat something and get some sleep. You can be angry with me all you want—just take care of yourself and the baby. Like this, you and the child are suffering most.”

As he spoke, he fussed with the bedding. Tan Yang, sobbing, said, “Don’t touch anything! Who wants to stay here with you? I’m going home—right now. Tomorrow, we divorce.” Bi Qingtang froze, then gripped her urgently, “Why say such things in anger? Divorce by agreement? That’s just fancy talk you educated types use. I never cared about that piece of paper. Once you married me, you were my wife for life—with or without it, it makes no difference!”

Tan Yang pried his hand away, exclaiming angrily, “Bi Qingtang, you’ve gone too far!” She slipped on her shoes and got out of bed.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Going home!” she replied, resolute.

As she tried to leave, he grabbed her arm. “Where will you go? Your cousin’s place can’t take you anymore! Where else do you have, besides here?”

“I’m going back to Tongli!” she insisted.

Bi Qingtang, helpless, pulled her close, his voice soft with pity. “My foolish girl, other women go to their parents’ home after a quarrel, hoping for support from their family. But in Tongli, who do you have? Only me!”

Tan Yang only sobbed harder. Through her tears, she accused him, “You treat me like this because you know I have only you, isn’t that right? You think I can’t live without you? With that attitude, how can I go on with you?”

Her words left Bi Qingtang speechless once more. Realizing she’d struck a nerve, Tan Yang’s heart raced with anger, and cold sweat broke out on her skin. Ignoring everything, she dragged out her trunk and opened the wardrobe, intending to pack a few of her usual clothes. Seeing her determined, Bi Qingtang panicked, stammering incoherent explanations. “Little sister, no, that’s not it—I can’t live without you, you see? I can’t!”

He wanted to calm her, but even he couldn’t tell if his words were a desperate tactic or some hidden truth from deep inside.

Opening the wardrobe, Tan Yang was stunned. It was stuffed with clothes, yet not one piece truly belonged to her—not even a button or a loose thread. Everything had been bought by the man behind her. Leaning helplessly against the wardrobe, a profound sorrow welled up within her. She realized that not only did she have no family, she didn’t even own a single item of clothing. She was utterly destitute—no kin, no money, nothing to secure her place in society. It was no wonder her husband felt so emboldened. In the end, who truly depended on whom? The answer was painfully obvious.

Bi Qingtang suddenly understood the contradiction between Tan Yang’s proud temperament and her vulnerable situation. His heart ached with guilt and self-reproach. He said, humbly, “Little sister, don’t go anywhere. It’s me who can’t live without you. If you want me gone, chase me out. This is your home—everything here is yours. If you don’t want to see me, I’ll leave for the office right now.”

The child in her belly stirred restlessly. Instinctively, Tan Yang held her abdomen and leaned against the wardrobe’s mirror. In the reflection, she stood alone in the luxurious bedroom, pale and exhausted, her sweat-soaked clothes clinging coldly to her back. Her face pressed against the glass, her image wavering like a white scarf drifting in the wind, everything turning blurry. She closed her eyes and, drained of all strength, slid slowly to the floor.

Strong arms caught her. “Little sister, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” Bi Qingtang lifted her onto the bed, gently touching her damp forehead, flustered and helpless. “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me. I’ll call a doctor right away!”

Tan Yang opened her eyes and whispered, “I’m just a little tired. I’d like something to eat.” Bi Qingtang nodded frantically, “Alright, alright, just wait a moment!” He hurried out the door.

Soon, he returned with a cup of milk. “Have some milk first. I’ve told the kitchen to prepare food—it’ll be ready soon.” Lying beneath the covers, Tan Yang frowned in pain. Bi Qingtang helped her sit up to feed her milk, but she pushed the cup away. He grew frantic, “This isn’t the time for stubbornness. You haven’t eaten all day—anyone would be weak, and you’re carrying a child!”

Pressing a hand to her belly, Tan Yang shook her head and said weakly, “I need to use the bathroom. Help me.” Bi Qingtang quickly agreed. “Alright, let’s go!” He set the cup on the bedside table and carried her to the washroom.

Concerned about her condition, Bi Qingtang wanted to stay with her, but she insisted on being alone. He had no choice but to leave, the door locking softly behind him.

After three to five minutes without a sound, Bi Qingtang knocked anxiously. “Little sister? Little sister?” Hearing a faint response, he relaxed a little. Then, with a thud from within—the sound of someone collapsing—Bi Qingtang panicked. He shouted, but the door wouldn’t open. He kicked it hard, and the door flew open. Tan Yang was sprawled on the cold tiles.

He rushed in, scooping her into his arms. She opened her eyes with effort, looked at him helplessly, her voice trembling with tears. “So much blood…” A chill shot through Bi Qingtang. He picked her up and ran downstairs, shouting for help. “Someone! Get the car—hospital, now!”

Old Zhou, who lived downstairs, emerged in his overcoat at the noise. He ran outside, started the car, and brought it to the door. Bi Qingtang got in with Tan Yang, who clung to his fingers so tightly that her nails dug painfully into his flesh. He could feel her trembling in his arms, his mind blank, murmuring, “Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid, we’re not afraid.”

Old Zhou turned, “Boss Bi, which hospital?” “Yes, hospital! Hurry!” Seeing the usually decisive man so at a loss, Old Zhou said, “Let’s go to St. Sish’s. I had surgery there—their gynecology is very good!” Bi Qingtang nodded repeatedly.

Tan Yang, semi-conscious, wept in pain in his arms. Placing his hand on her belly, Bi Qingtang could feel their six-month-old child convulsing inside her. He anxiously watched the road, then suddenly erupted in fury, “Damn it, is this the way to St. Sish’s? You idiot, I’ll shoot you!” He reached for his gun, only to realize he’d left it in his overcoat in his haste.

Old Zhou cleared his throat calmly. “If you kill me, who’ll drive? This isn’t the hospital route—it’s to the home of the famous Russian obstetrician from St. Sish’s. That Russian is never at the hospital at night. We’ll pick him up and go together, so we don’t waste time doubling back. There’s no time to lose.”

Bi Qingtang, subdued, pressed his forehead to Tan Yang’s. “Little sister, be strong. We’ll be at the hospital soon. Hang in there.” His words seemed to rouse her a little; she looked at him, and he felt a glimmer of hope. Holding her hand, he steadied his voice, “Little sister, with me here, don’t be afraid.”

She pulled her hand from his, closed her eyes, and in regaining her senses, no longer leaned on him or needed him. At that moment, Bi Qingtang’s heart plummeted into an abyss, overwhelmed by a terror he’d never known. He hugged her tightly, his voice forced and loud, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here!”

Once the Russian doctor was in the car, he quickly attended to Tan Yang. At the hospital, she was rushed into surgery. Bi Qingtang, waiting outside, leaned weakly against the wall. Too anxious to be still, he reached for cigarettes, but remembered he’d left them with his coat. Looking up, he asked Old Zhou, “Got a smoke?” Old Zhou pulled out a hand-rolled, unfiltered cigarette. “This is all I’ve got. Want one?” Bi Qingtang nodded. Old Zhou handed him the cigarette and matches, but Bi Qingtang’s hands shook so much he couldn’t light it. Old Zhou took the matches, lit it for him, and tried to comfort him. “Don’t worry too much—the doctors will know what to do.”

Just then, a nurse emerged and asked, “Which of you is the patient’s husband?” Bi Qingtang hurried over. “I am—what is it?” “Our doctors will do everything possible to help your wife. She should be fine, but I’m afraid the baby may not survive.” He was stunned, then his voice grew harsh. “My wife must be saved, and so must my child! Go tell the Russian doctor—I want my child! Do you hear me?” Frightened by his unreasonable demand, the nurse retreated into the operating room.

Old Zhou, annoyed, scolded Bi Qingtang. “Are you crazy? As long as the mother’s safe, that’s all that matters. You’re young—you can always have more children.” Bi Qingtang slumped onto a wooden bench, staring hopelessly at the floor. “You don’t understand. If we lose the child, she’ll never forgive me. We’ll be finished for good.”