Buying a Newspaper

After spending more than a month in Shanghai, the weather had begun to warm. Tan Yang, who stayed inside every day, grew increasingly curious about the world outside her window. Her uncle, Feng Kang, could sense her longing. He had promised just the day before to take his niece out to see the grand sights of Shanghai, but when morning came, he headed straight to the opium den as usual. Tan Yang dressed herself meticulously, waited and waited, but her uncle never returned. Annoyed, she asked a neighbor at the alley entrance about his whereabouts, then climbed into a rickshaw with Aunt Wu and headed straight for the Bund on Zhongshan East Road.

It was midday, just as people were leaving work; the major foreign firms along the Bund let out crowds of hurriedly moving men and women in Western suits and dresses. The wind from the Huangpu River swept across their faces, damp and cool. Walking along the riverside, gazing at the strange and imposing buildings across the street, automobiles and trams darting by, Aunt Wu pulled Tan Yang along, laughing as she pointed out the blond-haired, blue-eyed foreigners. At first, Tan Yang was delighted by the novelty, but as they walked, a melancholy crept over her. Alone in this unfamiliar city, she had no idea what life here was like, or whether any part of its bustle belonged to her. Amidst all the splendor, what could she call her own?

They had walked some distance when a boy of seven or eight ran up, waving a newspaper and shouting, "Extra! Extra! The first term at Whampoa Military Academy is about to begin, and General Wu Peifu is going to be featured on an American magazine cover!" The boy stopped before Tan Yang, wiped his dirty nose with his sleeve, and grinned, "Miss, buy a paper! It's a good read." Though spring still held a chill, the boy wore thin, patched clothes. Tan Yang hadn't intended to buy a paper, but she handed him a few coins.

With the coins in hand, the boy jumped for joy, shouting, "Haha, I've got lunch today!" His carefree happiness made Tan Yang feel uneasy. "Hey, child, come back!" The boy turned, frowning, and muttered, "Miss, a deal's a deal—you can't go back on it!" Tan Yang laughed, pulling out another handful of coins. "The paper is quite good. My father will like it. Why don't you sell me a few more?" The boy dug out all seven or eight papers from his battered bag and stuffed them into her hands, repeating with delight, "Thank you, Miss! Thank you!"

Their exchange quickly attracted other newsboys, some as young as five or six, who crowded around Tan Yang, eagerly saying, "Miss, that's not enough! I've got more." "Miss, you must buy my paper—old gentlemen always like this one!" Tan Yang, overwhelmed by their earnest faces, hesitated to walk away. She emptied her pockets of all her coins. Aunt Wu grew anxious and tugged at her purse, protesting, "No, no, Miss—we need money for the rickshaw home!" Tan Yang, stubborn, grabbed the purse back. "How far could it be? Walking home is just as good!"

Aunt Wu, unable to dissuade her, watched as Tan Yang gave all her money to the newsboys. The children ran off laughing, leaving Tan Yang staring at the thick stack of newspapers, unsure what to do. She failed to notice a black car pulling up beside her. The man inside rolled down the window with a teasing smile: "Miss Tan, what kind of business are you running here? If you hoard all the papers, people coming home from work tonight won’t have anything to read." He stepped out of the car, wearing a gray pinstriped suit, without a hat.

Tan Yang was surprised. "Mr. Bi, what a coincidence!" Bi Qingtang laughed heartily, coming to stand beside her. "It is quite a coincidence. Who would have thought in such a vast city we'd meet again so soon? My company is just over there," he said, gesturing. "On my way home, I like to look out at the street. I saw a crowd of little beggars swarming a young lady, and on closer look, it was you! I wondered what scene you were playing, so I had the driver stop for a bit of entertainment." Tan Yang, a little annoyed, replied, "They're not beggars—they're newsboys!" Bi Qingtang glanced at her and said, "It's all the same." Then he turned away, leaning on the riverside stone railing, gazing across the water.

For a moment, neither could find words. Tan Yang, unwilling to let the encounter end so quickly, clung to the thread of connection—even the most tenuous ties felt precious in this unfamiliar city. She clasped her wrist, awkwardly trying to sound mature, and asked, "Mr. Bi, have you been busy lately?"

Bi Qingtang turned, surprised, to look at her, and her face flushed. She sensed she may have crossed some boundary—though she wasn't sure if it was the ordinary etiquette between acquaintances, or something more subtle between men and women.

He turned back, apologetic. "I've had so much to do these past two months my head's spinning. Otherwise, I would have already called at your uncle's house. Miss Tan, you've been in Shanghai so long and I haven't played the proper host—my apologies." He glanced at his watch. "Today isn't ideal—it's already well past noon, and I have a business appointment later. How about this: tomorrow, we go out together. I'll show you around. Unless you have other plans?"

His words made Tan Yang uncomfortable; it sounded as though she had sought him out to tour Shanghai. Reflexively, she wanted to refuse, searching for an excuse, but said, "I... tomorrow I..." "Do you have plans? If not tomorrow, then the day after. Please grant me the honor." Bi Qingtang pressed gently, his voice earnest and warm. Tan Yang hesitated, then nodded.

"So, tomorrow or the day after?" he asked. She smoothed her wind-tousled hair and quietly replied, "The day after." He smiled, a hint of worldly cunning in his expression. "You've had your outing for the day—come, let me send you home." Without waiting for her reply, he bent down, gathered up the stack of newspapers, and walked toward the car. Aunt Wu tugged at Tan Yang's sleeve. Since all their money was spent on newspapers, Tan Yang didn't refuse, and went with Aunt Wu into the car.

Aunt Wu and the driver sat up front, while Tan Yang and Bi Qingtang sat in the back. Aunt Wu was delighted, chattering loudly. Tan Yang, though it was her first time in an automobile, tried to maintain composure—her quiet, adult-like manner amused Bi Qingtang.

"Where would Miss Tan like to go the day after tomorrow? I should plan ahead. Shopping, a movie, Western food—what do you think?" He didn't expect a clear answer, so he laid out the itinerary himself, making a perfunctory gesture. But Tan Yang suddenly brightened, sitting up straight, hesitating a moment before gathering her courage. "A distant cousin from my town came to visit relatives in Shanghai and brought back a photograph. It didn't look much like her," she paused, playfully, "in fact, the photo was better looking than the real person!" Bi Qingtang laughed heartily and agreed. Tan Yang's eyes sparkled as she smiled.

When they were a street away from her uncle's house, the car stopped. Bi Qingtang turned to Tan Yang, "I'll leave you here, then. I'll wait for you at this spot at ten o'clock the day after tomorrow." Tan Yang nodded, smiling, and said, "Goodbye," before alighting. The newspapers were so heavy that both Tan Yang and Aunt Wu struggled to carry them. The driver offered to help, but Bi Qingtang stopped him unexpectedly. Tan Yang, puzzled, joined Aunt Wu in carrying the papers home. After a few steps, she heard Bi Qingtang behind them, scolding the driver loudly, "How many times have I told you? When visiting someone's home for the first time, if you haven't brought a gift, park the car farther away. Don't charge in uninvited!"

Though he spoke to the driver, his voice was loud enough for Tan Yang and Aunt Wu to hear clearly. Aunt Wu whispered with a smile, "Mr. Bi is so particular—not at all like us country folk!" Tan Yang retorted, annoyed, "What do you mean, country? Tongli is a thousand-year-old town. If you belittle yourself, why would anyone take you seriously?" Aunt Wu grumbled, "Scholars always have the last word!"

On the third day, Tan Yang rose early to wash and dress, rummaging through her wardrobe. One outfit was the wrong style, another the wrong color; if both were suitable, it was the wrong season. The more clothes she tried, the less certain she felt. Finally, Aunt Wu reminded her, "The photo doesn't show colors or patterns, as long as it fits." In the end, Tan Yang chose a pale lotus-colored jacket with wide sleeves and a broad collar, paired with a matching pleated skirt. The collar and cuffs were adorned with exquisite Suzhou embroidery—though the color was muted, the craftsmanship and tailoring were impeccable. The wide sleeves revealed a glimpse of the narrow white undershirt beneath, giving Tan Yang the refined dignity of a southern lady.

Fully dressed, she examined herself in the mirror, and for a moment imagined her father bursting through the door, urging her to hurry, threatening that if she didn't, he wouldn't take her to the photographer. When her mother died years ago, her father had lamented that he never took her for a family portrait while his wife was alive—not even a single photo remained, a regret. Last autumn, when illness took hold, he comforted his daughter, promising that once spring came and he recovered, he would take her to Shanghai for a photograph—neither father nor daughter had ever had one taken. Now spring had arrived, and the photo would be taken, but the family of three was reduced to a fourteen-year-old girl alone.

As she thought of it, tears welled up. She wanted to cry aloud, but worried Aunt Wu would come in, so she held back, pulled out her instrument from under the bed, and began to play "Zhao Jun Departs the Frontier," its mournful melody echoing through the room.

Before heading to the opium den, her uncle grumbled at her door, "Little lady, you've hardly been deprived of anything—why are you playing such a gloomy tune so early?" Tan Yang quickly muted the strings and replied, "Uncle, I'm playing 'Joyful Reunion,' a cheerful song. If you don't like it, I won't play my old instrument again!" Feng Kang snorted and walked off. Tan Yang hugged her instrument and stared into space.

Time slipped by, and soon it was nearly ten o'clock. Aunt Wu, dressed in new clothes, hurried Tan Yang out. The black automobile was already waiting at the street corner. When they approached, Bi Qingtang took in Tan Yang's attire, smiling—a mixture of admiration and amusement. He opened the car door for her. "Come in."

Aunt Wu was startled to see a man of about fifty sitting beside the driver in the front seat. Bi Qingtang pointed to him, "Miss Tan, this is Uncle Chen. He's traveled with my father for years and knows Shanghai well." Tan Yang nodded politely. "Hello, Uncle Chen." Uncle Chen smiled warmly, waving his hand, "Oh, not at all—hello, Miss Tan, hello!"

Aunt Wu had hoped to accompany Tan Yang and see the city, but clearly there was no room for her in the car. She handed over her cloak reluctantly. Bi Qingtang assured her, "Don't worry, Aunt Wu. I'll bring her back by six o'clock." Aunt Wu, trying to hide her disappointment, forced a smile. "That's good, that's good."

End of Jade Sandalwood Chronicle, Chapter 42.