Difficult Problems

That weekend, Uncle Chen went to pick up Tang Yang, but she declined, saying she wasn’t feeling well.

Over the next month or so, Uncle Chen visited Tang Yang’s home several times, each time coincidentally when Feng Kang was away at the opium den. Yet every time, Tang Yang politely refused Bi Qingtang’s invitation for one reason or another. After that, Bi Qingtang never appeared again.

Although Tang Yang had received a traditional education, she was a lively and perceptive girl. After two months in Shanghai, she gradually adapted to the life she encountered there—the narrow alleys, the busy yet delicately lived lives of Shanghai families, and the local dialects echoing from early morning: “Ala,” “Xihua,” “Gua san.” When summer arrived and the weather grew stifling, Tang Yang secluded herself in her room to study, and the entire summer slipped by almost unnoticed, simply because she had something to occupy her mind. Bi Qingtang gradually became a distant and indistinct name, as abrupt and fleeting in her memory as his sudden appearance. Her forgetfulness toward him was as hasty as his arrival.

September brought the start of the school term. Before she could savor the novelty of the foreign-style academy, Tang Yang was overwhelmed by the heavy coursework. Each day, she would return home, eat dinner, and then bury herself in her studies, often looking up only to find dawn breaking in the east. Except for Chinese literature, she had to start nearly every subject from scratch, and with no one to guide her, her diligent efforts yielded little progress. In her class, she sat in the last row among children four or five years her junior, lonely and isolated. Her increased efforts met with little improvement, slowly wearing down her spirits. She liked the school, but school was not going well for her.

Autumn deepened, and for once, the city renowned for its gentle allure revealed a rare clarity in the crisp air. At midday, after school, Tang Yang walked home. A black car sped past her, then, after driving on for some distance, suddenly stopped. Tang Yang glanced up, recognized the car, and quickly turned back, slipping out of sight at the street corner. Bi Qingtang had already opened the car door and stepped out, but seeing her sudden disappearance, he paused, then climbed back in and slammed the door shut. “Is there a primary school nearby?” he asked, frowning and frustrated.

That afternoon, as school let out, a crowd of children poured through the gates. Tang Yang emerged much later, cradling her books, her mind full of worries. The golden sunlight of sunset bathed the street, illuminating her pale face and moon-white dress in a dazzling hue. The plane trees lining the road shed their leaves, which danced down in the wind; Tang Yang kept her head down, watching the leaves, walking slowly and gloomily, until a pair of brown men’s leather shoes appeared in her view. Looking up, she saw Bi Qingtang standing across from her in the sunlight, smiling charmingly. Behind him, the setting sun traced an orange outline around his silhouette. Tang Yang stared at him, stunned, as Bi Qingtang patiently watched her.

“Half a year without seeing you, Miss Tang, and you’ve grown more beautiful,” Bi Qingtang said. Tang Yang snapped out of her daze, her troubled face now showing annoyance. She replied, without any courtesy, teasing, “What a coincidence, Mr. Bi. In a city as vast as Shanghai, we always seem to bump into each other—sometimes even twice in one day!” To Tang Yang’s surprise, Bi Qingtang showed no embarrassment; instead, he laughed heartily. “Miss Tang, I came to wait for you at the school gate. I’ve been here for over half an hour. Why not accept my gesture?” Tang Yang quickly looked up, wary. Bi Qingtang pretended not to notice, and with a smile, took an envelope from his pocket. “I’ve come to deliver some photographs to you.”

Tang Yang hesitated briefly, then took the envelope. “Thank you, Mr. Bi. You’re so busy, you shouldn’t waste your time here. It’s getting late; I should head home.” She tucked the photographs casually between her books and turned to leave, not even saying goodbye. Watching her hurried steps, Bi Qingtang squinted, his smile tinged with mischief. “Why run? If I really wanted to catch you, could you get away?”

After hastily crossing several streets, Tang Yang, out of breath, looked back. Seeing that Bi Qingtang’s car hadn’t followed, she relaxed, her tension melting into exhaustion as she sat on a bench by the roadside. Once she’d rested, she opened her book, poured the photographs out of the envelope, and gazed at her own image. She traced her face on the photograph carefully with her index finger and said, heartbroken, “Next time I return to Tongli, I’ll burn these for you. I’m living well here at Uncle’s place in Shanghai, and I’ll work hard at my studies.” At this, Tang Yang glanced at the books in her hands, feeling a tightness in her chest, her lips trembling, nearly breaking into tears.

Tang Yang sat lost in thought by the street, watching the hurried passersby. Unnoticed, the sky darkened and the streetlights cast their dim glow. On a chilly autumn night, the wind rose sharply, leaves from the plane trees above fell onto her, but she didn’t notice. She wished time would stop then and there, that tomorrow would never come.

Across the street, a familiar car pulled up. Bi Qingtang, his face incredulous, stepped out. Quietly, he approached Tang Yang, who remained unaware. “This time, it truly is a coincidence. After delivering your photographs, I went to dinner, and on my way back I saw you here. So, running into you twice in one day in Shanghai isn’t impossible,” he said solemnly, then paused, his tone softening. “Why are you still out so late? Shanghai is chaotic—it's not safe for a girl like you.” With that, he sat beside her, shielding her from the cold wind blowing in from his side.

Tang Yang looked at Bi Qingtang tiredly and said listlessly, “Mr. Bi, I should go. Even if you see me from your car in the future, you needn’t bother to get out.” Bi Qingtang raised his eyebrows. “Your uncle told you to stay away from me, didn’t he? What did he say about me? I’d like to hear it—then I’ll have a good reason to keep away from you.” Having sat so long, Tang Yang’s legs were numb and she couldn’t stand, forced to reply helplessly, “Don’t you know what business you’re in?”

Bi Qingtang, surprisingly, breathed a sigh of relief, then calmly said, “There are plenty of people addicted to opium in Shanghai. That stuff—most who touch it never quit. If I didn’t do this business, someone else would. I’m not a good man, but I’m not a villain either. All the opium in Shanghai and nearby towns comes from me. These years, at least my prices have been fair. If I really sought exorbitant profits, who knows how many families would have been ruined by now.”

Tang Yang listened absently, her head bowed, fingers gently kneading her knee. Just as Bi Qingtang thought she was convinced, Tang Yang replied indifferently, “Mr. Bi, you needn’t bother with all these explanations. My uncle has his reasons for telling me to keep my distance, and they make sense. But for someone of your status and busy life to spend money and time on me again and again—there must be a reason that makes sense, too?”

Bi Qingtang was secretly annoyed by Tang Yang’s repeated retorts. Was this really a country girl? She was as sharp as anyone. He chuckled, lowered his voice, and patiently explained, “You ask why? Half because of our fathers’ friendship, and half because when I saw you in Tongli, you reminded me of myself back then. My mother died when I was born; my father spent his days indulging in town, neglecting me. A child, alone and friendless—if anyone gave you even a leaf, it was warmth enough for a whole winter.” As he spoke, Bi Qingtang bent to pick up a leaf, tore it skillfully into the shape of a little person, and placed it on Tang Yang’s book. Amidst the traffic and biting wind, under the hazy streetlights, Bi Qingtang watched Tang Yang’s profile with warmth and a gentle smile.

Tang Yang stopped, even her breathing and heartbeat halted, as she stared at the leaf figure on her book. Seeing her dazed look, Bi Qingtang tapped the little figure’s leg with his finger and murmured, “The wind’s rising, the little person must run.” Tang Yang turned to him, incredulous and tearful. “How do you…? How do you know?” Bi Qingtang smiled. “Back in Shandong, Uncle Tang saw me all alone and, whenever he had time, played with me. He taught me this.” He handed her a handkerchief, and after a moment’s hesitation, Tang Yang took it.

The white cotton handkerchief, with deep blue stripes at the edges, was clean and soft. Tang Yang used it to wipe her tears, and by chance, caught the faint scent of tobacco. It unexpectedly soothed her. Bi Qingtang looked at Tang Yang sincerely. “I don’t know how much you believe my reason. You said next time you see me on the street, I needn’t get out; but that depends on the situation. Like now—so late, you’re still sitting here alone. Tell me, could I just leave you?”

Tang Yang’s face was troubled, tears falling again. Bi Qingtang moved closer, concerned. “What’s wrong? Is there something troubling you at school?”

Tang Yang glanced at Bi Qingtang and, gripping the handkerchief, said, “I’m not doing well in my studies.” “Then study harder.” “But I did poorly in this exam, and the teacher wants my family to visit the school.” Bi Qingtang smiled knowingly. “That’s not a big deal. Just let your uncle go.” Tang Yang replied helplessly, “It’s not that simple. My uncle didn’t want me to attend school in the first place. If he finds out I’m doing so poorly, he’ll make me drop out and return home.”

Bi Qingtang laughed, put a cigarette in his mouth, and said cheerfully, “Then don’t let your uncle go—I’ll go instead!” “That won’t do.” “Why not? I’ll say I’m your elder brother; first meeting, I must recognize you as my adopted sister, right?” Tang Yang kept shaking her head. Bi Qingtang understood and said slowly, “As long as your uncle doesn’t know I went, it’s fine. If Miss Tang ever needs my help, I’ll be duty-bound. Otherwise, I won’t keep running into you on the street so ‘coincidentally’.” His words struck home, and Tang Yang finally said, “Then I’ll have to trouble you, Mr. Bi.” Bi Qingtang crossed his legs and teased, “That’s better. Otherwise, I’d think you’re making trouble at school just so your uncle will come and pull you out to find a husband!”

Tang Yang’s cheeks flushed, a girlish shyness that was uniquely charming. Bi Qingtang looked away at once. Tang Yang, a little annoyed, said, “Mr. Bi, if you speak to the teachers like that tomorrow, it’ll be no different from my uncle making me quit school.” She glanced at Bi Qingtang’s stylish beige suit, clearly uneasy. Bi Qingtang took a drag on his cigarette, turned to Tang Yang with a stern look, and said solemnly, “Miss Tang, you can trust me in anything I promise. If you ask me for help again, remember that.” He flicked his cigarette to the ground, stood up, and strode across the street. Opening the car door, he shouted over his shoulder, “Come on! I’ll take you home.”

Bitan Chronicles 75—Bitan Chronicles Full Free Reading 7 (5) The Difficult Question is Updated!