New Friend

Two days later, following the address given by Vice Dean Ma, Tan Yang set out to find the married couple of doctors who had returned from studying in Japan. The husband was surnamed Wu, with the sole given name En, and the wife was Lin Zhiju.

Before leaving, Tan Yang deliberately chose a dark-colored cheongsam to wear, appearing more dignified, and hoping the couple wouldn’t look down on her for her youth. The lane in the afternoon, around two or three o’clock, carried a sleepy languor. Clothes of every color hung densely from bamboo poles jutting out of second-floor windows, the sunlight squeezing through cracks in the laundry, making the already narrow lane feel even more cramped and crowded.

The young couple rented a pavilion room. Tan Yang, in high heels, ascended the shaky wooden stairs. The door was open, no need to knock, and inside were bundles wrapped in cloth. A woman in her forties or fifties scrutinized a camphor chest, speaking in Shanghainese, picking over it as she searched for flaws. Across from her stood a young woman in a cotton cheongsam, arms crossed, retorting briskly in a northern Jiangsu dialect; behind her, a tall, thin man looked downcastly at the floor.

Seeing how absorbed they were in their negotiation, Tan Yang realized no one had noticed her. She gently knocked on the doorframe, and the three turned to look at her. Tan Yang smiled politely. “My surname is Tan, Tan Yang. I wonder if this is the home of Dr. Wu En. I have some matters for which I hope to seek Dr. Wu and his wife’s assistance.” The young couple looked suddenly enlightened, as if recalling something. The wife began to step forward but was pulled back by the older woman, who shouted, “Hey, I’m buying this!”

The husband, seeing this, had no choice but to step up to Tan Yang himself. He glanced at her hurriedly, then lowered his head. “I am Wu En. Dean Ma mentioned you a few days ago. I hadn’t expected Dr. Tan to be so young.” Hearing this, Tan Yang felt a bit discouraged. As a woman, she hated being told she was old; as a doctor, she dreaded being told she was young. Wu En didn’t wait for her response, continuing, “Dr. Tan, I’m afraid we can’t join your hospital. Yesterday, we received word from home—my father has passed away. We must return to our hometown in Anhui.” He paused. “And once we go back, we don’t plan to return.”

Tan Yang hadn’t expected to be refused so bluntly before she’d even spoken. She was about to offer her condolences, but Wu En was called over to help lift the camphor chest. As he bent down, his worn, broken leather shoes peeked out from under his trousers. Tan Yang thought she was only adding to their burdens by being there and decided to leave. But as she turned, she caught sight of the rice jar by the door—empty to the bottom.

No rice at home, and they were forced to sell their belongings. Seeing the couple so down and out, Tan Yang felt a pang of sympathy. She had always inherited her father’s chivalrous spirit, and having just endured hardship herself, she understood the misery of being destitute. She took all the money from her purse and slipped it into the rice jar before hurriedly leaving.

At the entrance to the lane, Tan Yang suddenly realized she hadn’t kept any money for the ride home. But to return and reclaim it would be improper. She laughed at herself inwardly—nothing to fret about; she was used to doing foolish things like this. Just as she had once, on the Bund, spent all her money buying newspapers from a newsboy. She was far less gentle and calm than she appeared; her impulsiveness and warmth were things only she truly understood. As Bi Qingtang often teased, she was a fiery-hearted hero, always wearing a painted mask to fool others.

Without meaning to, she thought again of him, and sighed—a sigh tinged with bitterness, escaping in a wave of melancholy that spread unrestrained around her.

Since there was still a long way home, Tan Yang took her time, walking leisurely down the avenue. After a while, she heard someone behind her calling her name loudly. Turning, she saw Lin Zhiju running after her, breathless and clutching a wad of money. “Miss Tan, is this yours?”

Tan Yang smiled a little sheepishly, carefully choosing her words so as not to wound Lin Zhiju’s pride—the dignity of an intellectual was a sensitive thing, and Tan Yang, knowing her own temperament, was careful to extend that understanding to others. “Yes… I saw that your home had suffered, and since the journey to Anhui is long and arduous, you might need it. Perhaps I was too rash.” Seeing Tan Yang’s look of being caught in the act, Lin Zhiju relaxed, the tense atmosphere easing. She smiled, “Miss Tan, you weren’t rash at all. We do need the money, but we can’t accept it for nothing. Let’s just call it an advance on our salary, shall we?”

“Really? Dr. Wu and Mrs. Wu are willing?” Tan Yang looked up with a radiant smile, her surprise at the good news lighting up her face with gentle warmth—a beauty suffused with kindness. Lin Zhiju instantly took a liking to this young dean before her. “Yes, where else would we find such a generous dean? But you must give us a month to sort out our family affairs.”

Tan Yang nodded eagerly. “Of course, that gives me time to prepare the hospital!” After a moment’s thought, Lin Zhiju smiled and asked, “Does Dean Tan have any other requirements?” The unfamiliar title made Tan Yang a little uncomfortable, so she switched her purse to her other hand and replied solemnly, “Yes!” Lin Zhiju listened intently. Tan Yang continued, “Give me a bit of money. I need to hire a rickshaw to get back—I forgot to keep any for myself!”

For a moment, both women stared at each other, then burst out laughing in unison. On the dusk-lit avenue, they laughed together like old friends reunited after a long separation, a perfect harmony. Some people may know each other for decades and remain strangers, while others become confidants at first meeting. Friendship, like love, depends on an affinity of spirit. All relationships are more or less the same: whether someone attracts you, whether you’re kindred souls, becomes clear within a few words, without the need for endless speculation, trials, or tests.

Hand in hand, Lin Zhiju and Tan Yang went off to find a rickshaw. As Tan Yang climbed aboard, Lin Zhiju suddenly pulled her back and asked, “You specialize in pediatrics, right? Does your hospital have a surgeon?” Tan Yang shook her head. “Not yet. I might have to place an ad in the paper to find one.” Lin Zhiju beamed. “No need! We have a senior—a masterful doctor, though his temperament is peculiar. He never stays anywhere long. You should bring him in; as long as he has a place to practice, he won’t care how much you pay him!”

For one doctor to praise another of their own generation as genuinely talented means two things: first, that the doctor is broad-minded, and second, that the praised doctor truly has exceptional skill. Tan Yang understood this, and readily agreed, “That would be wonderful! When shall I go find him?” “Oh, don’t go yourself. He’s so prickly, you’ll just hit a wall. Wait until we return from home, then Old Wu and I will take you.”

Pulled along by the rickshaw, Tan Yang glanced back and saw Lin Zhiju still standing in the sunset, waving and smiling. Warmth filled Tan Yang’s heart. She thought of Zhang Xiangning, who, after graduating from Dongwu University, fled to England to escape an arranged marriage. She pursued a master’s, then a doctorate, even threatening her father that she wouldn’t return unless the engagement was annulled. England was far away; their correspondence consisted of scattered letters. At this moment, Tan Yang missed her dearly.

The newspaper reported a Western-style house for sale, unusually cheap. Tan Yang went to see it with the owner—a three-story building, not old, well-located, quiet yet central, ideal for a hospital. She noticed many nearby apartments, inhabited by Western-educated, modestly affluent employees of foreign firms—the very clientele for a small hospital like hers. Bi Qingtang had always shared business insights with her, so she had this acumen. It’s true: a woman’s first man, good or bad, shapes her vision and taste for life—you can’t be careless.

The owner’s asking price was low and he was eager to sell. Tan Yang calculated that the rent she had from Tongli was just enough. They agreed to the transaction for the next day. As she walked back, a rickshaw driver sitting by the roadside kindly warned her, “It’s a haunted house—mother and son died there. No one wants to buy it.” Tan Yang laughed with relief. “That’s the one thing I don’t fear when buying a house. Thanks for telling me—otherwise, I’d have worried the price was too good to be true!”

Afterward, Tan Yang hired people to clean and paint the house, bought furniture, examination beds, screens, and hurried to the hygiene school to recruit two newly graduated girls as nurses.

She stayed busy, never daring to pause—if she stopped, she would think of her daughter, and of Bi Qingtang, their love and enmity. Even a brief relationship leaves a permanent mark on memory, let alone a marriage filled with deep love.

Fang Ya, having seen or heard something at Bi Qingtang’s, came rushing to Tan Yang one day, as if to put out a fire—righteous and capable, adopting an elder’s stance to mediate between Tan Yang and Bi Qingtang. Tan Yang didn’t recount the many grievances between herself and Bi Qingtang, but her tone and demeanor chilled Fang Ya’s heart. Fang Ya was an exceptionally clever woman, especially astute regarding men and women—she could see that reconciliation between the couple was all but impossible.

Tan Yang sat in a corner of the sofa, head bowed, wiping away tears, her despair and helplessness making Fang Ya’s heart ache. Gently stroking Tan Yang’s shoulder, she comforted her, “If you truly can’t go back, then be strong. Grieving is useless. Just imagine he died before he had a chance to break your heart.” Tan Yang nodded slightly, dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief, and choked out, “But he won’t let me see my daughter, Sister Fang Ya. I miss my little girl!”

Fang Ya stood up in anger. “That Qingtang, really unreasonable! How can he keep a child from her mother? This isn’t the old days—a single letter of divorce doesn’t mean you’re cast out. Wait, I’ll go confront him for you!”

When the hospital preparations were nearly done, Lin Zhiju returned to Shanghai with her husband, tidied up a bit, and the next day invited Tan Yang to meet their senior.

The three wound their way through an utterly shabby alley. Opposite a shop selling fried dumplings, a crooked sign read “Dr. Liu.” Wu En seemed well acquainted with Dr. Liu and led Lin Zhiju and Tan Yang inside without knocking. The cramped room was dim but meticulously clean. A white curtain divided the space. Wu En called out, “Shouyu, I’ve brought a guest to see you!”

An exasperated voice answered from behind the curtain, “Why are you shouting? I have a patient, I’m treating them!” Unfazed by the gruffness, Wu En smiled and had Tan Yang and Lin Zhiju sit on the only two chairs in the room. After a while, a young man with the look of a street tough emerged from behind the curtain, pulling on his shirt, speaking in a mocking tone, “You Western doctors aren’t so great; this blood is worse than when I got stabbed. How can I pay you for treatment?”

The doctor who drew back the curtain tossed his bloody gloves aside, didn’t bother washing his hands, and picked up the newspaper-wrapped dumplings on the table, eating ravenously. Tan Yang couldn’t help but frown at the sight. After two dumplings, Dr. Liu finally spoke, “Whether you pay or not, it doesn’t matter. Your arm is so infected—if I don’t drain the pus, the bone will rot, and your arm will be useless. How will you live then?”

The young tough spat, “Nonsense! You’re useless, you floating corpse! Rotten bastard!” With that, he stormed out. Dr. Liu sneered, saying nothing, and continued eating. His features could be considered handsome, but the cynical coldness he wore made him seem gloomy and unlikable—at least Tan Yang found him hard to appreciate.

Wu En introduced, “Dean Tan, this is my senior, Liu Fazhu, courtesy name Shouyu. Shouyu, this is our hospital’s dean, Dr. Tan Yang, who studied pediatrics in Heidelberg, Germany.” While Wu En spoke, Liu Fazhu kept his head down eating, though at the mention of Heidelberg he glanced at Tan Yang, then openly displayed his disdain, eyelids drooping as he returned his attention to the dumplings.

Tan Yang cleared her throat. “Dr. Liu, I’ve come to ask if you’d join our hospital. I deeply admire your character and medical skill, and hope you’ll lend us your expertise.” She paused. “Our facilities aren’t luxurious, but you’ll find your surgical work easier there. You can have your own assistant—whoever you prefer.” Hearing this, Liu Fazhu turned his head, seriously considering. Tan Yang smiled and added, “As for salary, please name your terms. The hospital isn’t big, just four doctors, all familiar—so it’s much more comfortable.”

No sooner had Tan Yang finished than Liu Fazhu replied curtly, “Fine.” Tan Yang asked, “And about the salary, Dr. Liu?” Liu Fazhu waved his hand carelessly. “Whatever you want.” Just then, an old lady appeared at the door, calling, “Hey, you Western doctor inside, do you sell Strong Pills?” Liu Fazhu stood up and shouted angrily, “No! I’m a Western doctor, a surgeon!” The old lady pouted and left. Liu Fazhu, a bit resigned, asked Tan Yang, “Can I start work tomorrow?” At that, Tan Yang and the Wu couple laughed.

As they left, Lin Zhiju whispered to Tan Yang, “I never thought you’d be so clever—seeing our senior is a medical obsessive who can’t be bothered with people, and persuading him to join us so easily.” Tan Yang smiled, a little embarrassed, and as she looked sideways, she noticed several white silk nightgowns hanging under the eaves of Liu Fazhu’s room—the same kind Bi Qingtang owned, imported goods sold at Western department stores, rare and outrageously expensive. She used to joke that Bi Qingtang, dressed in such nightwear, was the very image of a decadent young gentleman. She hadn’t expected Dr. Liu to have such extravagant tastes.

Bitan Chronicle 5755_Bitan Chronicle Full Free Reading_57 (55) New Friends updated!