Fate’s Cruelty

"Little sister, why are you up so early today?" Bi Qingtang, just awake, sat up in bed, pulled on his dressing gown, and glanced at the clock on the bedside table.

Tan Yang was sitting at her vanity, putting on earrings. Upon hearing Bi Qingtang's words, she hesitated a little, studied her reflection from side to side in the mirror, then stood up and said with some difficulty, "What else can I do? The child who was just admitted yesterday has a high fever. I need to go early and see if yesterday’s antipyretic shot worked."

Bi Qingtang shook his head, reproaching her, "You’re always like this. Honestly, what difference does a few minutes make? I don’t believe it could matter that much."

Tan Yang sat on the edge of the bed, took her watch from under the pillow and put it on her wrist, lowering her voice as she said, "Big brother, I’m leaving." Bi Qingtang smiled and kissed her cheek. "Go on, but come back early."

The car drove Tan Yang to the gate of Baolong Hospital. She got out and went into her office. From the window, after watching the car drive away, she hurriedly took a short cloak from the wardrobe and went downstairs. It was still early; there were few pedestrians on the street. A few rickshaw pullers stood chatting idly at the corner. Tan Yang got into one of the rickshaws and said softly to the puller, "Harmony Wharf."

At the wharf in the early morning, the salty sea breeze blew in with the distant sound of a steamship horn. Though it was late spring, it was still damp and chilly, the kind of cold that seeped into one's bones and made the heart shiver with a vague, unsettled feeling. Tan Yang stood by the sea in a daisy-yellow satin cheongsam, a black short cloak draped over her shoulders. The gold chain clasp gleamed against the cloak at her chest—a look all the rage for the grand dames of Shanghai, yet on Tan Yang, it made her appear refined and dignified. The sea breeze disheveled her long, curled hair, and she absentmindedly ran her hand through it, frowning as she looked toward the ship's deck, both anxious and uneasy.

"Uncle Ma! Uncle Ma!" Spotting the familiar figure of the old man, Tan Yang called out loudly. Old Ma squinted in her direction and, recognizing her, quickly made his way through the crowd, happy but with a hint of reproach. "Miss, what are you doing here?"

Surrounded by people reunited after long partings, Tan Yang studied the old man in front of her in that special atmosphere. His hair was now white, his wrinkles deepened—he had aged so much. Only the gentle affection in his eyes when he looked at her remained unchanged after all these years.

In a trance, the dignified old man in his long robe overlapped in Tan Yang’s mind with the short-coated middle-aged steward from Tongli twenty years ago, making it hard to tell the present from the past. Faces, some familiar and some less so, flashed rapidly through her mind—her father, her mother, her uncle, Uncle Xu—all shrouded in the misty air of Tongli.

Living now in bustling Shanghai, the days of her childhood in the water town seemed to drift further and further away. Even the family and uncles who had been by her side in those years had, one by one, left her. Now, Tan Yang suddenly realized that this old man before her was her only link to the past. The thought brought a wave of sorrow, and she leaned emotionally on Old Ma’s shoulder. "Uncle Ma, you haven’t come back in so long."

Old Ma was surprised by her gesture at first but soon understood. He vaguely remembered the last time he held Tan Yang’s hand was twenty years ago, when she was a little girl with ox-horn braids, bouncing along the water town's paths with him. Old Ma squinted, patted her hand with his weathered one, and said nothing, for in that moment, he understood everything in Tan Yang’s heart. After all, those years in Tongli had been peaceful and precious for both of them. Since then, the world had changed beyond recognition, never to return to what it was...

Rickshaws carried Old Ma and Tan Yang one behind the other. As the city grew livelier, Tan Yang watched Old Ma’s white hair flutter in the wind ahead. The surrounding noise and towering buildings suddenly felt distant; she felt isolated, as if she were a bottle suspended in midair, empty inside, with only the wind howling through, making an uneasy and dreadful sound.

Old Ma brought Tan Yang to his home in Shanghai, deep within an alleyway, where his son, daughter-in-law, grandson, and granddaughter all lived together in a lively household. Their Shanghai dialect still bore a Shandong accent, reminding her of her uncle and making her feel closer to them. After a quick wash, Old Ma tacitly led Tan Yang upstairs to the attic, a quiet place suitable for conversation.

Alone with Old Ma, Tan Yang’s mind was full of questions, yet she didn’t know where to begin. She hesitated, but Old Ma, unable to contain himself, broke the silence first. "Miss, what’s wrong? Is something the matter?" He paused, then suddenly asked angrily, "Is it Bi Qingtang?" At this, Tan Yang looked up at him in alarm, and Old Ma, feeling his suspicions confirmed, burst out, "He’s not treating you well, is he? He told me himself, if he ever mistreated you, he deserved to be struck by lightning. Has he already forgotten his own words after just a few years? Miss, just wait, I’ll kill him if I have to." He slammed the table in anger, the veins bulging on his aged arm.

Tan Yang quickly waved her hands, "No, Uncle Ma, you’ve misunderstood. Big brother treats me very well. It’s just that recently, something else happened." She wrapped her hands around her teacup, lowered her head, and succinctly told Old Ma what had happened that day, carefully avoiding too much detail, for the memory still wrenched her heart. After all, her father’s brother in all but blood had died at her husband’s hand.

When she finished, she looked up at Old Ma, surprised to find no shock or pain on his face. Instead, he brushed the dust from his sleeve as if it were no concern of his and refilled her cup. Tan Yang called out anxiously, "Uncle Ma! Uncle Ma, Uncle Xu is dead! I remember when I was little, sitting on his knee, eating cakes he brought from Guangdong, but now he’s just gone, right before my eyes!" Old Ma stood up and gently patted her shoulder, comforting her agitation. "When people get old, death is inevitable. It’s just a matter of how it happens—that’s fate."

He walked to the window, opened it, and sunlight spilled into the dim attic. Dust motes danced in the light. Below the window was the backstreet, a narrow lane just wide enough for two people side by side. In the alley, a middle-aged nanny sat on a small stool, sunning herself while coaxing a child in her arms.

Uncle and niece both stared outside, lost in thought, until Old Ma slowly began, "The older I get, the more I believe in fate. Isn’t it strange, how many coincidences and odd happenings there are in this world? Isn’t it all predestined by heaven?" He clicked his tongue in reflection.

"I remember one winter in Shandong, it snowed heavily. The four masters took me and Old Chen down the mountain to buy New Year’s things in town. Midway, the snow was so fierce the horses couldn’t go on. We found shelter in a ruined temple, and soon after, an old Taoist in ragged clothes came in to escape the snow. He sat in the corner, scrutinizing each of us. We thought he was crazy and ignored him, but the old master, being kind, gave him a pancake. When the snow let up and the Taoist was leaving, he turned back and said, ‘How pitiful, how pitiful, all doomed to die unnatural deaths, none will end well!’ For people in our line of work, such talk was taboo. We all wanted to kill the unlucky Taoist, but the old master stopped us. Who would have thought his words would prove true—thirty years have passed, and one by one, all of us old ones have met ill ends! So, hearing you say Boss Bi killed Second Master Xu by accident, I can only say it was fate—no one else to blame."

Tan Yang straightened, stubbornly saying, "Uncle Ma, you know I’ve never believed in such things. Fate, untimely death—if you say my uncle died of opium, that’s an unnatural death, but my father? He died of tuberculosis. How can you call that unnatural?" Old Ma lowered his head, saying nothing, and Tan Yang continued, frowning softly, "Besides, big brother killing Uncle Xu—it wasn’t an accident. It was more like… silencing a witness." She whispered the last words so quietly they were barely audible, as if a breath would blow them away.

Old Ma clenched his hands tightly, then relaxed them. He looked at Tan Yang, his gaze pained but earnest. "Miss, how old is little miss now?" Tan Yang was caught off guard by the question. "Nannan is five and a half." "Boss Bi dotes on her, doesn’t he? Like the master doted on you back then?" Tan Yang nodded, then shook her head with a helpless smile. "More than that—he spoils her outrageously. He’d give her the stars and the moon if she asked. My father never went to such absurd lengths." Old Ma smiled with deep satisfaction. "How wonderful—a family together like this. Miss, why trouble yourself about old, rotten matters? Just live your life well; the rest has nothing to do with you."

Tan Yang realized Old Ma would not and did not want to say any more. She felt unsettled and muttered, "So, it’s another old Shandong story—none of you will tell me." Old Ma sighed. "Miss, you’ve been here long enough. It’s time for you to go home." Hearing this, Tan Yang thought for a moment, then stood up to leave. At the door, she turned back. "Uncle Ma, it’s been thirty years since you all left Shandong. Yet, I feel you’re all still living there, never having really left!" Old Ma was startled, then gave a bitter smile. "Alive or dead, we’re bound there, never to be freed. So, miss, keep your distance from us."

When Tan Yang had gone far, the old man closed the window with trembling hands, tears in his eyes. "Miss, don’t blame me. Second Master Xu died horribly—I don’t want to end up like him!"

After dinner, Tan Yang sat on the sofa knitting a sweater, the pale gray yarn just begun. She tilted her head, softly counting stitches. Bi Qingtang sat nearby, absentmindedly flipping through the newspaper. Seeing Tan Yang so focused, he tossed aside the paper and said to their daughter, who was sprawled on the carpet drawing, "Nannan, count how many bulbs there are in the chandelier. If you get it right, Daddy will reward you!" He hoisted his daughter onto his shoulders. Little Yan Tan, with her chubby fingers, gazed upward and counted loudly, "One, two, three, four, five…"

"Thirty-six, Daddy! There are thirty-six bulbs!" Yan Tan clapped her hands with delight, seeking praise from her father. Bi Qingtang carried her over to sit next to Tan Yang, who had nearly finished counting her stitches but was now interrupted, her efforts wasted. She was feeling discouraged when Bi Qingtang teased, "Nannan counts so well—much better than Mommy. She’ll do better in school than you did!" At that, Tan Yang quickly pulled out a knitting needle and poked him in the side.

Bi Qingtang dodged with a laugh, kissing his daughter’s little hand. "Tell me, sweetheart, what do you want?" Yan Tan snuggled against her father’s chest, her childish voice piping up, "Daddy, I want a hunchbacked bald grandpa!"

Author’s note: Ah, I’m back. I missed everyone. It’s been so long since I updated—partly because of work, but honestly, I feel a bit embarrassed writing novels in front of my husband. But living together means slowly getting used to many things. I think he’ll gradually get used to me sitting at the computer to write, won’t he?

The Tale of Jade and Cypress, Chapter 4947, full text free to read. Chapter 49 (47): "Untimely Death"—update complete!