Sweater

When he returned home, Bi Qingtang took off his coat, and Tan Yang, noticing the maroon sweater he wore underneath, laughed. “You always wear it, it’s starting to look a bit worn!” Her words carried a hint of complaint, a trace of playful reproach, and, deeply concealed, a young woman’s quiet pride.

Bi Qingtang looked at the woolen sweater draped over his arm, smiling without saying a word at first. Then, in a half-hearted manner, he spoke. “Nannan always asks me when you’ll come home. Didn’t you say, back when you knitted me this sweater, that you’d come back as soon as I wore it? That’s what I told Nannan, too. So whenever it gets a little chilly, Nannan drags out this sweater and says, ‘Daddy, put it on, so Mommy will come home!’ You have no idea how she is—she gives you no choice but to wear it.”

Tan Yang sat beside Bi Qingtang, her eyes stinging as she listened. She used the excuse of straightening his collar to hide her emotion. Their love was steady, their marriage mature—not that they were unmoved, but that they no longer expressed their feelings so easily. Yet even so, they remained utterly in tune. “So, tell me, are you the one fooling the child, or is the child fooling you?” Tan Yang caressed his shoulder, her voice soft and gentle.

Bi Qingtang laughed heartily, patting her hand. “I meant to comfort her, but after saying it so many times, I started to believe it myself.”

Before leaving to study in Germany, she had said to him, “When you wear this sweater, it’ll mean I’m coming home.” That was what he told their child as well. By coincidence, both times she returned it was winter, and both times he wore this maroon woolen sweater.

The next day, snow began to fall. Bi Qingtang didn’t go to the office. The three of them stayed warm at home, laughter ringing through the rooms. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the snowflakes danced and melted as they touched the ground. Tan Yang sat on the thick carpet, teaching Yan Qin, perched on her knee, the songs of her own childhood. Bi Qingtang, sitting on the sofa, watched mother and daughter with quiet joy and satisfaction, dozing off from time to time.

After dinner, Fang Ya called. Tan Yang chatted with her for a long time, mentioning that she would be hosting a dance party at her house in two days and inviting both Tan Yang and Bi Qingtang to attend. As soon as Tan Yang put down the receiver, Bi Qingtang teased, “You two talked for so long—why didn’t she just come over? It’s less than half an hour by car. Lazy!”

“Fang Ya said she didn’t want to disturb us—she knows I just got back and our family is reunited,” Tan Yang defended her friend.

Bi Qingtang chuckled sheepishly. “Isn’t that just like her? Always pretending to be sensible and considerate, but really she just wants an excuse for her ridiculous behavior. Three hours on the phone, and all about trivial things!”

Tan Yang wrinkled her nose and sniffed playfully, then retorted with a sly grin, “Sounds like someone’s jealous!”

Bi Qingtang pinched her cheek. “Oh, you! Just wait until tonight, I’ll deal with you!”

“And will you still go to work tomorrow?” Tan Yang asked, covering her mouth as she laughed.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head in mock despair. “You’ve learned to tease me now—how you’ve changed!”

At that moment, Yan Qin, dressed in pale blue pajamas, ran over with a look of grievance, clutching Bi Qingtang’s sleeve. “Daddy, I hid under the table for so long, and you didn’t even come to find me!” With that, her mouth quivered and she began to cry.

Bi Qingtang glanced at the clock in the living room—it was nearly nine. He had forgotten the nightly game he played with his daughter before bed. Quickly, he scooped Yan Qin up and comforted her over and over.

Then Tan Yang took their daughter upstairs to hide in the bedroom closet. Bi Qingtang made a show of searching high and low, up and down the stairs, before finally opening the closet door. Yan Qin stretched out her hands and, imitating the sound of New Year’s firecrackers, cried, “Bang! Boom! Bang! Boom!”

Laughing, Bi Qingtang wrapped his arms around mother and daughter. “Found you! Daddy found Nannan!” Yan Qin giggled and giggled, her big eyes turning into crescent moons. “So, how will Nannan reward Daddy?” she was asked. Yan Qin leaned forward, puckered her lips, and planted several pecking kisses on Bi Qingtang’s cheek. He laughed heartily, then offered his cheek to Tan Yang, who, after a slight hesitation, brushed a lock of hair from her temple with her little finger and softly kissed him as well. Bi Qingtang pulled Tan Yang and their daughter back into the closet, where the three of them collapsed in laughter.

Afterwards, Yan Qin insisted on hearing a story before bed, threatening not to sleep otherwise. Bi Qingtang fetched a picture book of “Havoc in Heaven” and began to read in a measured, formal tone—so dull that even Tan Yang couldn’t help yawning. As her eyelids grew heavier, Bi Qingtang tucked in their sleeping daughter and whispered, “Nannan’s asleep, let’s go to bed too.”

As they left their daughter’s room for their own, Bi Qingtang asked solemnly, “Xiaomei, how was my storytelling?” Tan Yang lowered her head, smiled, but didn’t answer. He opened the bedroom door with a sigh. “What can I do? Ever since you left, she won’t go to bed without a story. If I don’t tell one, she won’t sleep. If I tell a good one, she gets so excited she won’t sleep either! She’s so clingy, every night is the same!”

Tan Yang was about to say, “Big brother, you’ve worked hard,” but Bi Qingtang suddenly changed the subject. “So you should build me a monument to marital chastity!”

Tan Yang thumped him on the back in mock annoyance, reproaching him for his lack of seriousness, though in her heart she delighted in his words.

“Big brother, let’s have another child,” Tan Yang said softly as she spread out the covers.

Bi Qingtang, who had been winding her watch on the sofa, stopped. “What brings this up?”

Perhaps surprised by his indifferent response, she turned to look at him and smiled gently. “Let’s have a son this time. Don’t you like boys? When you took Nannan to Heidelberg, you mentioned how Zhao Ling had another boy, and Li He now has three rascals. You should have seen your face when you said that—you were so envious.”

Bi Qingtang awkwardly scratched his nose with his forefinger. “Really? I don’t think so. One Nannan is enough to keep us both busy. Another child—how would we manage? I don’t even dare to think about it. This is perfect as it is; I’m content.”

Tan Yang sighed faintly, sat on the bed, and looked down at her hands. “I was just talking with Fang Ya on the phone. She said if your father were still alive, he’d want to see the Bi family line continue and prosper. I told her I understand, that children are a blessing.”

Bi Qingtang straightened up on the sofa and said with a helpless smile, “Honestly, she meddles too much. Don’t treat her like an elder—she’s just an overgrown child.”

Tan Yang was silent for a while, then forced a smile. “If you don’t want another, so be it. I just really love children. Do you know, big brother, when my father died and I knelt alone before his spirit, I so wished for a sibling—someone who could grieve with me, who shared my parents, who could be there to lean on during sorrow. Maybe because I grew up alone, I’m especially sensitive about our daughter. Every time I look at Nannan, I think she should have a sibling. Otherwise, when we’re gone, she’ll be alone in the world, and that thought unsettles me. No matter how much love we give her, it can never compare to the comfort of having family.”

As she finished, her voice trembled with sadness. Bi Qingtang rose to sit beside her, holding her thoughtfully. “Don’t talk about guilt—where does your mind wander?”

He held her closer, furrowing his brow, and after a long silence finally spoke. “Xiaomei, do you know? Last year, when I went to Hangzhou on business, I happened to meet a famous fortune-teller. I didn’t say who I was, but he knew everything about me—even things from Shandong and Nanyang that hardly anyone knows. It was uncanny. In the end, he said I was fated to have only one daughter; if I were to have any more children, disaster would follow—ruin, the loss of everything.”

Tan Yang’s face darkened. “You believe that? Someone who fears neither gods nor ghosts, how can you believe this?”

He answered gravely, “I do. The longer people live, the more money they make, the higher they climb, the more they tend to believe these things!”

“Superstition,” Tan Yang huffed, trying to pull away.

Instead, he held her tighter, tilting her chin up with a laugh. “What nerve! Send you abroad for two years, and now you call me superstitious! That just won’t do. Tonight, if you don’t soothe me, I won’t let you off!”

With that, he lowered his head to kiss her. As he pressed her down, his chin brushed her cheek—the stubble, unseen in the morning but grown by night, became a mischievous sprite in their intimacy, sending tingling shivers through Tan Yang. His warm lips moved slowly from her ear to her mouth, whispering, “You were tired last night, not very enthusiastic. Tonight, you’d better do better.”

Before she could reply, he kissed her mouth, his tongue teasing her lips. She opened to him, hands winding up to his shoulders. Once she responded, Bi Qingtang’s kiss grew fervent, urgent.

His passion swept her along; they kissed wildly, clinging to each other, fingers interlaced, neither willing to let go. Time blurred as Tan Yang’s senses spun and her heart surged. When at last Bi Qingtang’s Adam’s apple bobbed and a low groan escaped his throat, she instinctively dug her nails into his hand. The sudden pain jolted him, and in an instant, everything shattered.

With a powerful motion, Bi Qingtang pushed Tan Yang flat on the bed. She meant to lie on her back, but he pressed her down from behind, making her lie prone. He lifted her cheongsam to her waist, then swiftly pulled down her stockings and panties, leaving her feeling exposed. In a hoarse voice, he asked, “Xiaomei, is this—now, is this all right?” She nodded, trembling. “Yes, it’s fine!”

Clutching the bedding, unable to see behind her, every nerve in her body tensed with anticipation. Suddenly, Bi Qingtang shifted away. She heard the drawer open, then the tearing of plastic. Glancing sideways, she glimpsed the English word “Condoms” on imported packaging tossed on the bed.

So he truly didn’t want another child, she thought, a faint sense of loss stirring. But before she could dwell on it, he entered her without warning, filling her with overwhelming sensation so intense all else was forgotten, her voice escaping in a cry. He gripped her hips, moving forcefully.

Afterwards, he lay atop her, breathing heavily. Tan Yang smoothed her sweat-damp hair, turning to look at him. Both were still half-clothed, and the sight unexpectedly stirred tenderness in her. She called softly, “Big brother.” Her voice reignited Bi Qingtang’s desire; he turned her to face him and kissed her again, fingers working at the buttons of her cheongsam. She helped him undress, and soon the clothes were all cast aside. He pulled the quilt over them.

Beneath the covers, in the dim, stifling warmth, both were slick with sweat. Bi Qingtang soon threw back the quilt, letting the bright lights of the chandelier and bedside lamp fall on their bodies. He thrust relentlessly, sweat dripping onto Tan Yang’s chest. She glimpsed the pink flush of her own skin, his sweat glistening like dew on a delicate blossom. She placed her hand on her chest, eyes half-closed, feeling his sweat beneath her fingers. Bi Qingtang, seeing this, could not restrain a guttural cry, grabbing her hand to knead her breast along with his own. The sudden sensation sent Tan Yang spiraling towards release. Shaking all over, Bi Qingtang gasped, “Wait for me, wait for me, Xiaomei—let’s go together!”

Their passion peaked in unison. Bi Qingtang clung to her limp body, a hint of sorrow in his voice. “Xiaomei, I love you. I won’t have more children, don’t need more money—let’s live like this, just us, for the rest of our lives.”

After a long while, Tan Yang tried to move away, but Bi Qingtang wouldn’t let go. “Big brother, let me go turn off the lights.” He considered, then said, “I’ll do it.” Only then did he release her and leave the bed. As he stood, Tan Yang caught sight of his maroon sweater on the floor. She stared at it, lost in thought, until the light snapped off and the room was plunged into darkness, the image of the sweater lingering in her mind.

Bi Qingtang returned to bed and pulled up the covers. “Big brother, I’ll knit you a new sweater; this one is worn out.” “All right,” he replied cheerfully. Even in the dark, she could feel his smile.

“Oh, you’re at it again!” His hand roamed over her body, tender and slow, the air thick with intimacy. Yet he mused, “Who knows what tomorrow brings? Tonight, we must enjoy it to the fullest. In this life, there is only the present.”

Bi Tan Ji 4543_Complete Free Reading of Bi Tan Ji_45 (43) Sweater update complete!