41 (39) Morphine

That was never a peaceful era; the invasions of foreign countries merely added fuel to the turmoil of those chaotic times. Shanghai was the heart of the age, and yet it existed apart from it, a world unto itself. The men and women here were accustomed to learning about the shifting tides of current events from the newspapers, but in the end, what mattered most to them were their business dealings, the latest fashions, and the comfortable routines of their own lives. Bi Qing-tang and Tan Yang were among these people.

For medical students learning Western medicine, anatomy class was a turning point—a threshold to cross, a new realm to enter, a process of breaking free and becoming something new. In November of that year, on an early winter night, Bi Qing-tang carefully laid his sleeping daughter on her bed, then went to the study, knocked on the door, and leaned against the frame with a smile. "Scholar, it's time for bed. It's getting late!" Tan Yang, who was diligently studying at her desk, looked up, closed her book with a troubled expression, and sank into the large chair. "Ah, the practical anatomy class starts next Monday, doesn't it?" Bi Qing-tang glanced at her, questioning. "We'll be seeing real corpses. I'm... honestly a little anxious," she admitted, somewhat embarrassed. Bi Qing-tang laughed heartily, unconcerned. "Afraid? If you're scared, then don't go."

Tan Yang ignored him, dejectedly lowered her head, and packed her book into her bag. Bi Qing-tang sat on the opposite sofa and spoke gently, "It's nothing. Once you've done it the first time, you'll be fine. I've seen plenty—I'm used to it, not afraid anymore. There are no ghosts or gods in this world, remember that." Tan Yang nodded, wanting to ask something but hesitating. Bi Qing-tang smiled slyly at her. "You can't guess!" They looked at each other and smiled. After so much time together, there were words unnecessary to ask, unnecessary to say—this was understanding.

Bi Qing-tang took out a cigarette, fitted it to a holder, and lit it slowly. He spoke softly, "That year in the twelfth lunar month, I was ten. The men said there was a big job, so my father and several uncles went down the mountain. I waited a long time, then fell asleep on the chair in the hall. When I woke, it was deep into the night. Everything was pitch dark, the men had all gone to bed. Passing their rooms, I could hear the uneven snores, but my father and the others were nowhere to be seen. In the distant woods behind the mountain, I could faintly see the glow of pine torches, so I followed the narrow path, nearly freezing before I got there."

"Our fathers—your uncle, Uncle Chen, Old Ma, and Uncle Xu—six of them stood before a large pit. Uncle Tan was sitting at the edge, gasping for breath. Uncle Xu was pouring kerosene into the pit. In it were many corpses—people and horses, men and women, old and young. The dead look nothing like the sleeping. Those who died violently look dreadful. They all wore silk clothes, red and green, soaked in kerosene, and under the torchlight, the colors were strikingly vivid. My father threw his torch into the pit, and suddenly, the fire blazed up. The usually gentle Uncle Tan went wild, shouting, 'Do you want to die?' I was so frightened that I cried, and only then did they notice me. Uncle Tan turned around, carried me on his back, and walked away without looking back."

"The scene, the smell, the eerie atmosphere—I will never forget it for the rest of my life. I had nightmares for a month, always that night. After that, no matter where I went, nothing ever scared me again." Bi Qing-tang squinted, his eyes unfocused, lost in his memories. Tan Yang sat beside him, placing her hand on his. "What year was that?" "The year Empress Dowager Cixi died." Bi Qing-tang answered without hesitation. "Oh? 1908? Father said he left Shandong and came to Tongli that year."

A week later, after school, Tan Yang walked out of the gate with her book in hand. Bi Qing-tang stood waiting with his hands behind his back. "Oh, brother, what brings you here?" "Well, after seeing a dead body for the first time, are you afraid?" They smiled at each other. Bi Qing-tang reached for her book. "Let's go," he said, then took her arm. The golden glow of sunset bathed his deep gray double-breasted suit and her black-and-yellow checkered cotton cheongsam, filling the moment with a rare sense of comfort.

In 1932, the Nationalist Government sought to redirect the Japanese army's invasion plan from north to south to east to west for prolonged resistance, and to draw international attention to the Sino-Japanese conflict, they initiated a battle in Shanghai. On January 28, the Japanese marines occupied the Songhu Railway line along the Shanghai concessions, and the Nineteenth Army resolutely resisted, thus beginning the January 28th Incident.

On January 31, Japanese reinforcements arrived in Shanghai. Early that morning, Bi Qing-tang woke Tan Yang, who was still asleep. Carrying their daughter, they descended the stairs where two cars waited. Bi Qing-tang and Uncle Chen sat in the front car with several boxes of gold and silver, while Tan Yang and her daughter rode in the back car, which carried household essentials. The headlights cut columns of light through the thick morning fog, dispersing into the uneasy dawn of Shanghai.

Yan Qin, wrapped in a duck-down quilt, lay on Tan Yang's lap. In the rush, she had only grabbed her "Western Pharmacology" textbook to pass the time. She did not know where Bi Qing-tang was taking her and their daughter. Everyone was saying the authorities cared nothing for the people, but with such a powerful husband, her worries seemed unnecessary.

Just outside Shanghai, they encountered rows of military trucks filled with soldiers. The pre-war road was tense, ready to erupt at any moment. A patrolling jeep stopped their car for questioning—Bi Qing-tang handled the inquiries, while the attendant in front of Tan Yang gripped his gun, vigilant. As they drove on, refugees grew more numerous, along with those made homeless by war and disaster. Bi Qing-tang got out and switched to Tan Yang's car.

Tan Yang glanced at her husband beside her, and felt her heart settle. "The valuables are in the front—why did you come here?" Bi Qing-tang sat upright, his right hand never leaving his pocket, watching the crowds outside with alertness. "In these lawless times, the refugees might go mad and rob us. Money is secondary," he said, kicking the box under the seat. "If they take the powdered milk and biscuits, what will the child eat? In chaos, gold is worthless! As long as the family is together and has something to eat, that's enough."

Yan Qin smacked her lips in sleep, oblivious to suffering, a year-and-a-half-old child, delicate and endearing. Tan Yang clasped Bi Qing-tang's left hand and instinctively leaned her head against his shoulder. "You should sleep too," Bi Qing-tang whispered gently in her ear. Tan Yang nodded and closed her eyes. Weariness overcame her, and in the midst of turmoil, she slept soundly on his shoulder.

Abandoning home amidst blood and chaos, caring nothing for the distance—wherever he was, there was home.

When she woke, it was midday. Bi Qing-tang roused her and told her they'd arrived, then carried their daughter out of the car. It was a courtyard in Wuxi, clean and peaceful under the winter sun, exuding the rare warmth of home.

On March 3, the Japanese army announced a ceasefire. On May 5, under the mediation of Britain, America, France, and Italy, China and Japan signed the Songhu Ceasefire Agreement. The Japanese returned to their pre-war positions. This local war lasted less than five months, and the country rejoiced, believing the conflict with Japan was over. When Tan Yang's family returned to Shanghai at the end of May, thanks to Bi Qing-tang's influence and negotiation, the Bi residence had not suffered any disturbance. A quick cleaning sufficed to make it livable again.

That night, Tan Yang sat on the bed flipping through "Western Pharmacology." Bi Qing-tang, as he undressed, chattered on, "I think our little girl is really smart, like you. The other day, I told her the banners outside said 'victory and triumph.' Today, when I took her out, she quizzed Wu Ma about it. Wu Ma didn't know, so she taught her, quite convincingly. Fang Ya saw her and remarked that after half a year, the child had grown even prettier." Tan Yang closed her book and smiled lightly. "You only listen to such praise. If I say she's becoming spoiled and willful, you ignore me."

Bi Qing-tang only smiled and said nothing, crawling under the covers. "When does your school resume?" "Mid-June." "Ask them to give you more books, will you? You've nearly worn out this pharmacology book after half a year." Tan Yang set the book on the bedside table, speaking calmly. "I'm simply most interested in this." "Oh? Next time someone at the residence has a headache or fever, you'll prescribe medicine?"

Tan Yang ignored his teasing, lying down slowly and speaking absently, "My uncle died of opium poisoning?" Bi Qing-tang turned to glance at her, replying lightly, "That's what the doctor said, if I remember right." "The main component of opium is morphine. Morphine poisoning presents with nausea, vomiting, pallor, weakness, drowsiness, and constricted pupils. I've seen it myself and asked Wu Ma—my uncle, before he died, showed none of these symptoms."

With a click, Bi Qing-tang turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. After a long silence, he finally spoke. "Western medicine hasn't been in Shanghai long. Doctors aren't all competent; misdiagnoses are inevitable. You've only just begun your studies, and what's in the books isn't always reliable. Why dwell on this? I think you study medicine to relieve the world's suffering, not to associate it with your own unhappy memories. Whatever happened, Uncle Feng is gone. What you should do is live our life well. If you're happy, he'll rest peacefully." Tan Yang considered this, sighed, and said with conviction, "Brother, you are right. I shouldn't let my mind wander."

That summer, after classes resumed, Tan Yang suddenly wanted to learn German. Bi Qing-tang found her a German elderly lady as a tutor. Tan Yang studied diligently, often late into the night. Bi Qing-tang asked her why. Tan Yang explained that Professor Seidler, a renowned pediatrician from Heidelberg Medical School, would visit St. John's Medical College in Shanghai that winter. The school needed someone versed in both German and medicine to be an escort interpreter. The teachers urged the students to seize this opportunity to learn and to access the world's most advanced medical knowledge.

"Oh? You want to be the interpreter?" "I'm trying for it." "This Dr. Seidler—is he a man?" "Yes." "Then you can't go," Bi Qing-tang said, stern-faced. "Oh, come on! He's over sixty—you think too much," Tan Yang protested. "Well, since he's old, I won't mind. You can go," Bi Qing-tang crossed his legs, feigning magnanimity.

Bitan Chronicle 4139_Bitan Chronicle Full Free Reading_41(39) Morphine update complete!