Love, at its end

The day Tan Yang went to the courthouse to sign the divorce papers was overcast. It had rained heavily the night before, and the air was thick with dampness, suffocating enough to make her chest tighten with unease. The sky over Shanghai was a dull, smoky gray, like an old kerosene lamp shade, so dim and murky that no trace of brightness could be seen.

From beginning to end that day, Bi Qingtang did not appear. On the divorce papers brought by his attendant, he had scrawled his signature carelessly. The terms were harsh to the extreme—Tan Yang was not allowed to take away so much as a needle. The elderly gentleman overseeing the proceedings was a kind man. In private, he quietly advised Tan Yang to reconsider such an arrangement before making her decision. But Tan Yang only shook her head with a bitter smile, picked up the pen, and wrote her name in deliberate strokes.

Twelve years of acquaintance, eight years of companionship—all vanished in an instant with the stroke of a pen. Years of painstaking effort collapsed in a single day; perhaps all the world’s sorrows are of this kind. Love is so fragile, and yet time is so relentless.

Tan Yang left the courthouse alone, walking the misty streets of Shanghai. Puddles pooled on the cement road, reflecting her solitary figure. All of this was seen by him as well. He lowered his head and touched her name on the paper; her usually free-spirited handwriting seemed stiff and lifeless, just as his usually proper signature had never been so careless. Bi Qingtang turned to Uncle Chen and said, “You may go.” Uncle Chen was just about to leave when Bi Qingtang called him back, pulling out an envelope. “Give this to her as well.”

Uncle Chen frowned. “Why don’t you give it to her yourself?” Bi Qingtang turned away, shaking his head. “If even you think I’m trying to put on another act with this, then it’s no wonder she thinks the worst of me.” His tone was self-deprecating, tinged with despair. Uncle Chen sighed, then left.

When Tan Yang returned home, she found Uncle Chen waiting at the door. She paused in surprise. “Miss Tan, won’t you invite me in?” he said. Lowering her head, she took out her keys and opened the lock. “Uncle Chen, I’m not... I’m not the young madam anymore.” Uncle Chen said nothing, simply turned and called for the men to bring several large trunks from the car. As he directed them to set the boxes down inside, he said, “Miss, these are your books, and the clothes you bought for yourself over the years. We didn’t bring the ones the young master bought—they were too many.” He spoke as he walked into the sitting room, and Tan Yang could only follow.

Uncle Chen took a stack of documents from his briefcase, spreading them out for Tan Yang to see as he spoke, “This is the money left by Master Feng, these are the deeds for the properties in Tongli. The young master has always managed your assets for you. When the Japanese were about to invade in ’32, land prices in Tongli plummeted, so the young master used the rent collected from those years to buy up a large piece of land—all the deeds are in your name. It’s a considerable holding, and the profits from recent years are all here. This is the deed for the mansion you were given when you married; the young master put it in your name before the wedding. It’s been maintained all these years—ready for you to move in.”

He placed a set of keys on the table. “Miss, these are all rightfully yours. Don’t be childish and push them away out of spite—it’s pointless. It’s not easy for a woman to stand on her own, even less so without some foundation. You’ll understand in time. You can still practice at Baolong Hospital; arrangements have been made.”

“I’ll be going now, Miss. You should move into the mansion as soon as possible; this place isn’t fit to live in.” With that, he took out an envelope, hesitated, then handed it to Tan Yang, his expression grave. “For a husband and wife, sincerity is everything. What else matters? What national grievances or family feuds can be mixed into the daily bread and oil? I’ve lived long enough to know that I still don’t understand all these sorrows and resentments, but I do see clearly how sincere the young master’s heart is toward you.”

Tan Yang took the envelope, puzzled, and pulled out the contents—an enormous deposit in a foreign bank, so large she barely had time to count the string of digits before she hurried after Uncle Chen. Seeing her emerge, Uncle Chen signaled the driver to stop the car, lowered the window, and said, “This is the share from Master Tan and Master Feng. The young master said it belongs to you. At first, he wanted it, but later he did not.”

That afternoon, as dusk fell, Vice President Ma from Baolong Hospital came to visit Tan Yang at her small lane house. His visit surprised her, though on reflection it was not unexpected. Besides, he was careful to address her as Miss Tan.

Director Ma was there to invite her back to Baolong Hospital, but Tan Yang declined. She was weary of Bi Qingtang’s arbitrary taking and giving, and her heart had grown cold; there was a fatigue in that coldness from which she could not return. Besides, Tan Yang was not one to come and go at another’s whim—she had her own pride and principles. Otherwise, she would never be comfortable working under Director Ma in the future. Yet his sincerity was unmistakable, so her refusal was polite and tactful.

Director Ma was disappointed that she would not return, but he understood, and in his heart felt a measure of admiration. After some formal words, he changed the subject, asking if she would be interested in working elsewhere—he had connections in every hospital in Shanghai. Tan Yang did not wish to owe him, so she declined. “If you won’t work at any hospital, do you not wish to practice medicine?” he asked. Tan Yang thought for a moment. “I’ll open a small clinic of my own—work independently.”

Director Ma pondered for a moment. “It’s hard to make a name for yourself running a small clinic alone. If you have the means, why not open a hospital? You’d be free from others’ control or favor. Western hospitals in Shanghai charge exorbitant fees—if you gathered a few colleagues and opened a small hospital with lower fees, you’d benefit a broader population, and many common people would be helped. I know several doctors who have done this with great success.”

Tan Yang nodded thoughtfully at his words. Seeing she was receptive, Director Ma took out paper and pen from his briefcase, leaned over the table, and wrote as he spoke, “A few days ago, a couple returned from studying in Japan—the husband is an internist, the wife an obstetrician. Both fine young people, but their positions were given to an official’s nephew instead. They’re in need of work. Here’s their address. Miss Tan, you might wish to contact them.”

When he finished, he handed her the paper with a sigh. “Miss Tan, I regret what happened that day, but the world is what it is—there’s nothing to be done. Let me do what little I can for you. Please don’t refuse. If you ever need anything, come to me.” Tan Yang stood and accepted the note with gratitude.

There are some people in this world whose few words, a bit of advice, or a simple favor can change the course of your life. Such people either hold extraordinary positions, possess a broad vision, or are simply ordinary souls who speak from the heart. Ordinary folk call them ‘patrons’—to have their help is a blessing, but more often, it is because you are deserving; it is a matter of your own merit.

Spring in Shanghai was a season of endless drizzle. The old house where her uncle lived leaked so badly it was uninhabitable, so Tan Yang rented an apartment at the edge of a few alleys. With two or three rooms, it was enough for her solitary life. The building was filled with clerks and young couples—respectable people, safe neighbors. Children ran up and down the stairs, their laughter bringing a sense of life that kept loneliness at bay. If her daughter came to stay, there would be playmates for her too, Tan Yang thought wishfully.

She had no intention of living in the mansion Bi Qingtang had given her. She could not bear to. Even holding the key, she could not enter without tears springing to her eyes. Within those walls were all the memories of their newlywed happiness—walking arm in arm in the garden, sitting by the window laughing and bantering. Those beautiful scenes would remain forever in the mansion, sealed in memory. Now, she had to tear herself away, leaving only raw, bleeding wounds that would never heal.

Tan Yang fled from the mansion. On the way back, she wondered how he managed to live with their daughter in the home on Fuxu Road. He was stronger than she, it was true—but did strength mean one did not suffer or feel pain?

How would they each go on, walking the long road of life, living out the years that remained?

Later, Tan Yang went to a small carpentry shop and commissioned a tiny box of ebony. She took it home, placed the foreign bank certificate inside, and locked it securely away.

In the bright lamplight, Tan Yang rested her head on the table, gazing at the image of the Suffering Buddha carved into the lid. In that moment, she finally understood the state of mind her father had held thirty years ago, and the meaning of the words he had always told her: “When the cup overflows, disaster follows.” Had it not been for this enormous, ill-gotten fortune, her father and his brother would not have turned against each other thirty years ago, nor she and her husband been torn apart today. No one had ever used that money, yet it had ruined them all the same. Tan Yang ran her fingers over the Buddha’s compassionate smile and let out a long sigh.

Tan Yang visited the Bi residence on Fuxu Road several times, longing to see her daughter, but was always turned away. Even when she mustered the courage to confront Bi Qingtang, he refused to see her. She understood him well enough to know he would not easily relinquish his last card. Her heart filled with resentment—resentment that he would stop at nothing to achieve his ends, even if it meant using their marriage, their love, and their daughter as bargaining chips.

As she calmed herself, her thoughts grew clearer. He had always acted with such ruthlessness and coldness; if not over these matters, they would have been divided by something else eventually. In the end, they were simply not the same kind of people.

In the grief and discouragement of Tan Yang’s departure, Bi Qingtang clung tightly to their daughter, holding onto a shred of hope. Perhaps hardship could not break Tan Yang, but the love for her child might. He believed Tan Yang cared for their daughter deeply; with their child as leverage, perhaps one day she would return, even if only in name. If she came back, no matter how estranged they might be, he would treat her better than ever, believing she would eventually come around. He did not know if he was being foolish, or if after ten years he still did not truly understand Tan Yang. His stubbornness could not save their marriage; it only pushed his beloved further away—the sister whose spirit was both gentle and unyielding.

Tan Yang, in her loneliness and disappointment, missed her daughter desperately. It was different from when she had studied in Germany—then, months apart were only temporary, with the promise of a lifetime together ahead. Now, after two weeks without seeing her child, she knew that future meetings would only become more rare.

She dared not let herself dwell on her daughter—such hopeless longing was dangerous. She needed something to occupy her mind. Remembering Director Ma’s advice, she realized that perhaps she should open a small hospital after all. People must have something to do, especially those burdened by sorrow.

Author’s note: Time flies. It’s been so long since the last update—my child is almost a year old now. Occasionally, I check on this story and see that people are still leaving comments. Reading Zhizui’s recent message strengthened my resolve to finish this novel, and to do so with care—to be responsible to myself and to all the devoted readers who have followed along! Sending love to you all—I’ve missed you dearly!

Bitan Ji 5654_Bitan Ji Full Free Reading_56 (54) The End of Love—Update Complete!