The Noble Lady

While Bi Qingtang was speaking, Tan Yang kept her head lowered and remained silent.

Even after he finished, she showed no reaction. For a long moment, Bi Qingtang waited, struggling at the edge of collapse, and finally managed to call out softly, “Little sister.” His voice trembled—filled with sincerity, urgency, and fear. He awaited judgment, yet dreaded a death sentence. At the sound of his voice, Tan Yang shuddered and looked up, tears welling in her eyes, not yet falling, but more heart-wrenching than any crying could be.

Bi Qingtang was stunned, then immediately pulled Tan Yang into a tight embrace, leaving not the slightest gap between them. He feared that if he let go now, the next moment the world might change and even a hug would become a distant luxury. With a sob in her voice, Tan Yang hesitated and spoke, “I… I don’t know if what you said is true, but I’m willing to believe you this time. Not for your sake, but for mine. If one day…” At this, Tan Yang suddenly stopped, unable to say the rest.

Bi Qingtang heard only her forgiveness and, overwhelmed, held her close, his throat tight as he murmured incoherently into her ear, “Little sister, thank you, thank you.”

Choosing bravely to stay was for everlasting companionship. If heartbreak returned one day, her resolve to leave would only be firmer. To remain with determination or to leave with resolve—wise love never lingers in indecision.

With injections and medicine, Bi Qingtang’s cold soon passed, but more importantly, his spirits were restored and his heart was at ease. Tan Yang stayed in the hospital awaiting the birth, and Bi Qingtang put aside his business to accompany her every day. He knew her pains and discomforts without her needing to say a word. Tan Yang teased him, “So you’re actually quite good at caring for people. Running a business is really a waste of your talent.” Bi Qingtang squeezed her hand and pretended to be offended. “You don’t praise my attentiveness, but make me sound like I’m born to serve.” Tan Yang laughed softly, “Are you feeling wronged?” “Not at all, I’m happy,” he replied, quite pleased with himself.

By the end of April, with just over ten days to her due date, Tan Yang, about to give birth for the first time, inevitably felt anxious and unsettled. Bi Qingtang noticed and stayed by her side constantly to comfort her. On an early summer evening, Tan Yang dozed in Bi Qingtang’s arms, lazy and content. He brushed his hand over her earlobe. “What’s this? You napped so restlessly at noon, and now you’re sleepy again?” Tan Yang smiled absently, “I had a dream… dreamt we were arguing.” Bi Qingtang’s hand paused, a look of guilt crossing his face. After a long silence, he said suddenly, “That won’t happen again. If it ever does, you can take a gun and shoot me!”

Tan Yang’s lashes fluttered, but she didn’t open her eyes. Forcing a laugh, she said, “Nonsense, who would want your life?” Bi Qingtang whispered gently into her ear, “Your heart is so soft, aren’t you afraid I’ll take advantage again?” Tan Yang slowly opened her eyes and looked at him, her smile fading as she spoke seriously, “If you were ever that disappointing, why would I remain entangled with you? I’d take our child and leave for good. You’d never see us again.”

Bi Qingtang froze, then replied firmly, “That will never happen. I will never let another woman come between us. You can rest assured, and you’d better not even think of leaving!” Startled by his intensity, Tan Yang laughed, “Not just because of a woman—if you ever wrong me for any reason, that’s not acceptable either!” Lying in Bi Qingtang’s arms, she couldn’t see his expression, but felt his chest muscles clench, and then his whole body slacken and sink into the bed as if drained.

That night, waking in the middle of the night, Tan Yang reached out to the empty space beside her. In the darkness, by the faint moonlight, she saw Bi Qingtang sitting rigidly on the sofa opposite the bed. She got up and walked over; usually so alert, he didn’t even notice her approach. “Big brother, why aren’t you sleeping?” Bi Qingtang started, then reached out to wrap his arm around her waist, pressing his head to her belly in silence. When she grasped his hand, it was clammy with cold sweat. Uneasy, she asked, “Big brother, what’s wrong? Tell me.” His throat worked, and in a hoarse voice he said, “Little sister, promise me—no matter what happens, never leave Shanghai. Will you?”

Remembering their conversation earlier that day, Tan Yang, somewhat annoyed, asked if he was giving himself a way out for future mistakes, but Bi Qingtang just shook his head, saying nothing, looking for all the world like a wronged and helpless child. They remained at an impasse for a long time until, with something close to pleading, he said, “I won’t make mistakes again! Just don’t leave Shanghai, promise me, please.” In the darkness, his strange and anxious manner unsettled Tan Yang. Reluctant to refuse, she nodded instinctively, “Alright, let’s go back to bed.”

On a bright May morning, Tan Yang was combing her hair before the mirror while Bi Qingtang set breakfast on the table, teasing her for taking so long with her hair. Suddenly, a sharp cramp seized her abdomen. With a bang, the comb fell to the floor. She clutched her belly, leaning back in the chair.

The moment the couple had both feared and anticipated arrived quietly and without warning.

The contractions grew shorter and more intense. By dusk, Tan Yang’s cries from the delivery room grew louder and more desperate. Waiting outside, Bi Qingtang, already anxious, pounded on the door at her shouts, demanding, “What’s happening? Little sister!” The midwife and nurse inside were clearly startled. Sweating and in agony, Tan Yang managed to gasp, “He just has a bad temper, don’t mind him. I’ll try to be quieter.”

Later that evening, the Soviet doctor entered the delivery room. Over an hour later, he emerged to inform Bi Qingtang that the labor was not progressing, the cervix was opening too slowly, and the mother was exhausted. He recommended a cesarean section. At that time in Shanghai, the procedure was still new and the technique unrefined. “Can you guarantee my wife will be safe if you do the surgery?” The Soviet doctor shrugged, “I’ll do my best.” “If you can’t guarantee it, why are you making such a fuss?” Bi Qingtang cursed in frustration. The doctor, displeased, turned back to the delivery room, tossing over his shoulder, “There’s risk in surgery, but more risk without it!”

An hour later, the room was still silent. After much internal struggle, Bi Qingtang finally stood and, in a depleted voice, told the nurse, “Please tell the doctor—go ahead with the surgery.” The nurse went in and soon returned to say, “The surgery is already underway and going smoothly. Don’t worry, sir!”

In the early hours, the faint cry of a newborn was heard from the delivery room. The nurse soon emerged to announce to Bi Qingtang that it was a girl, both mother and child were safe. After a day of fear and worry, Bi Qingtang finally relaxed, realizing how hungry and exhausted he was.

Several hours later, as the anesthesia wore off, Tan Yang opened her eyes to Bi Qingtang’s smiling face. “You gave us a daughter! I adore daughters, you have no idea!” Tan Yang replied softly, “You wanted a son, I know.” Bi Qingtang laughed awkwardly, “It’s all the same. Having a child is tough enough—let’s talk about a son in a few years.”

At dawn, the nurse brought the baby to Bi Qingtang. He cradled her tenderly; in the morning light, she lay curled in his arms, eyes tightly shut, delicate and soft—a tiny bundle resting on his chest, making his heart melt with her. For him, this was an invisible, gradual transformation.

Because Tan Yang was young, she recovered quickly and, just over two weeks later, was ready to leave the hospital. The day before discharge, the Soviet doctor invited Bi Qingtang to his office.

“Mr. Bi, how long after your marriage did you and your wife conceive this child?” the Soviet doctor asked in halting Chinese. “About a year.” “Your wife’s periods have been irregular since marriage, haven’t they?” Bi Qingtang nodded, “Doctor, is there a problem?” The doctor ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. “Yes. During the cesarean, we accidentally discovered organized hematomas wrapped on both of her fallopian tubes, likely caused by an ectopic pregnancy. To prevent infection or rupture, I removed them. But because the encapsulation lasted so long, both tubes have severe adhesions—irreversible damage.”

Bi Qingtang frowned, leaning forward. “What do you mean?” The Soviet doctor made a regretful gesture. “It means your wife cannot become a mother again. She’s lost her fertility.” “That’s impossible! She’s only twenty—we wanted three children, a son and a daughter!” Bi Qingtang protested desperately. “Mr. Bi, don’t be so upset. I’m only telling you the truth—a truth you and your wife must face together.”

Bi Qingtang got up and stood by the window, looking out at the street, saying nothing. The Soviet doctor shook his head and sat quietly beside him.

“Doctor,” Bi Qingtang finally spoke after a long time, “will my wife feel anything herself? Will other doctors find out in future checkups?” “Oh, no. She won’t feel a thing. Unless she has abdominal surgery, routine exams won’t reveal it—not with current medical technology.” Bi Qingtang nodded deeply. “Alright, then don’t tell her. Don’t tell anyone else either. Keep this secret for me. In our country, an infertile woman is always looked down upon. If she ever realizes, it will only make her sad.”

When Bi Qingtang returned to the ward from the doctor’s office, he found Tan Yang napping on the bed while two servants quietly packed her things. The baby lay at the bedside. Seeing this, Bi Qingtang strode over and scooped up the child, scolding the servants for their carelessness. “You only care about packing, leaving the child by the bedside. What if she fell?”

Awakened by the commotion, Tan Yang complained, “You’re making a fuss over nothing. The baby’s too small to roll over—how could she fall?” Bi Qingtang pressed his face to his daughter’s forehead and muttered, “You can’t be careless with this child.”

When they left the hospital, Bi Qingtang gave the Soviet doctor a generous gift. “This is to thank you for saving my wife and daughter, and also…” The Soviet doctor nodded understandingly, “Don’t worry, I’ll be returning home later this year.”

—End of Chapter—