88 (86) The Decision

With the battle raging so fiercely and urgent tasks demanding his attention, Xu Zhizhong found it hard to be patient when Bi Qingtang came to trouble him at such a critical moment. Despite his usual composure, irritation showed on his face. Yet when Bi Qingtang entered, Xu Zhizhong was surprised to see how much he had changed—thinner and worn, after six months apart. These past months had been the most fortunate, most contented period in Xu Zhizhong’s life; in his triumph, he had scarcely noticed Bi Qingtang’s misfortunes.

“Mr. Bi, you’ve lost quite a bit of weight,” Xu Zhizhong said, somewhat uneasy. Bi Qingtang ignored the comment, standing beside the desk and speaking succinctly, “I know you’re busy. I have something to say. It won’t take long.”
“I’m not busy, Mr. Bi, please speak freely.”
“I saw the paper today. So? You’re getting married?” Bi Qingtang glanced at the black iron photo frame on the desk, his tone sharp.
Strangely, Xu Zhizhong felt like a thief caught red-handed, exposed in broad daylight. For all his self-assured propriety, he was, after all, taking advantage of another’s misfortune and seizing what another loved; he found himself in the wrong.

A guilty look flickered across his face. When he spoke again, his manner was humble, his words sincere. “Yes. Yangyang understands the risks I face at the front, so even though the timing is not ideal and everything is rushed, she agreed, granting my wish.”
Listening to him, Bi Qingtang smiled, but the smile was strained, ambiguous between relief and sorrow. After a moment’s silence, Bi Qingtang fixed his gaze on Xu Zhizhong, scrutinizing him with a grave expression. “My sister can’t have children. You’re an only son—if you value your family line, don’t marry her.” He paused, picked up the photo frame from the desk, and pressed impatiently, “Don’t let it come to pass that, after three or five years, you complain of having no heir, and then take a concubine, muddling everything, forcing me to clean up your mess again.”

Xu Zhizhong was only momentarily taken aback, then smiled, his resolve undisturbed, his eyes steady. Seeing this, Bi Qingtang sighed, troubled. “If you truly don’t care, then don’t let her find out. There are plenty of ways to keep her from suspecting.”
At this point, Xu Zhizhong was surprised. He leaned forward, puzzled, “Mr. Bi, are you saying that Yangyang doesn’t know she can’t have children?”
Bi Qingtang nodded. “After she gave birth to the girl, the Russian doctor said her body couldn’t handle another pregnancy. I thought it was enough that I knew, so I didn’t tell her.” He hesitated, then continued, “It’s an old Chinese habit—if you can afford it, you want more children, especially a son. But she can’t. So I told her I don’t care much for children, that a fortune teller said I’d only have one daughter and more would affect my luck. In truth, I just didn’t want her to carry that burden or live with guilt for the rest of our lives together.”

Xu Zhizhong stared at Bi Qingtang for a long time, incredulous. “So, you’ve borne everything yourself, just for her sake?” He shook his head, speaking from the heart, “Forgive my bluntness, Mr. Bi, with your status and experience, I wouldn’t be surprised if you killed or schemed for profit. But what you’ve done for Yangyang always leaves me astonished, marveling at you.”

Bi Qingtang smiled indifferently. “It’s not so strange. I’ve lived for decades, seen much, endured much. Only my sister, only this one person, loved me truly—not for my money, not for my power. Only she, knowing my infamous reputation, still depended on me without reservation. She actually thinks I’m a good person.” He lowered his gaze to the photo of Tan Yang, dressed as a student, smiling clean and sweet. Bi Qingtang’s eyes grew distant. “Some things, I think, are destined…”

“Fifteen years ago, my father and I first visited Tongli. My sister would pass beneath our inn on her way to school. It was spring, with endless rain, everything damp and musty. The rain wasn’t heavy, but lasted all day. Before dark, Uncle Tan came to fetch her from school. Father and daughter shared an umbrella, chatting and laughing. When they reached the inn, there was a patch of muddy water on the ground. Uncle Tan squatted down and carried his daughter across. She was twelve or thirteen, old enough not to need carrying, and the water was shallow. I was puzzled, didn’t understand why Uncle Tan did that. When he set her down, I happened to see the white embroidered shoes beneath her skirt—immaculate shoes.”

“When I was a child in Shandong, Uncle Tan always took me out to play, treated me well. I thought he simply liked children, was kind to all. But there’s a difference. Everyone loves their own flesh and blood more. In that moment, I wanted to be Uncle Tan’s child. I wanted a path through life untouched by mud, even felt a little jealous of my sister. So I told Uncle Chen beside me, sourly, ‘If Tan Laosan is really capable, he should carry his daughter on his back for her whole life, never let her down.’ Uncle Chen thought I was speaking nonsense and ignored me. Strangely, I added, ‘Unless she finds a good husband, maybe then she can wear white embroidered shoes forever.’”

Bi Qingtang became somewhat agitated. “Now, after so many years, looking back—my greatest wish in all my time with her has been to carry her through all the filth and danger of this world, so that her feet would never touch mud.”

When Bi Qingtang left, Xu Zhizhong remained lost in thought. The adjacent rest room, separated by wooden boards, was poorly soundproofed. Suddenly recalling all this, Xu Zhizhong rushed to the rest room, wanting to tell Tan Yang he didn’t care about children or anything else, that as long as they could spend the rest of their lives together, nothing else mattered. But when he opened the door, he found Tan Yang sobbing uncontrollably, and all his declarations felt pointless—ill-timed, absurd, and empty.

Early November, on the northern bank of the Suzhou River, six Japanese divisions forced a crossing to join the landed troops. Seventy thousand Chinese soldiers in the Songhu region were surrounded, forced to retreat, unable to counterattack. As troops entered defensive positions, they discovered the concrete fortifications were as brittle as rotten wood, machine gun ports gaping, most pillboxes unusable. Where had the immense military funds gone? Before the war began, the termites had already hollowed out their own house.

Often, a nation is not destroyed by war but by corruption. Since ancient times, in the land of China, natural disasters cannot destroy a country, invasions cannot destroy a country—the root of all regime collapse lies in the rot and blindness of the ruling class.

On the evening of November 8th, Chiang Kai-shek ordered all units to retreat toward Nanjing. By morning on the 9th, the troops withdrew from Shanghai; Japanese forces were about to enter the city, and chaos reigned.

That afternoon, Xu Zhizhong, exhausted and despondent, hurried to Tan Yang’s apartment. Unlike the turmoil outside, the room was clean and orderly. Tan Yang sat quietly on the sofa, looking at him.

Xu Zhizhong was clearly anxious, his tone accusatory. “Didn’t someone come this morning to tell you? Get your things ready, wait for me—I’m coming to take you away. We’re leaving this afternoon; Shanghai can’t be held any longer!” He glanced at his watch, grabbed Tan Yang’s coat from the rack. “No matter, even if you haven’t packed, we’ll travel light. Anything you need, I’ll buy for you in Chongqing!” With that, he tried to pull her away. Tan Yang withdrew her arm, her voice gentle but firm. “Go on. I want to stay.”

Xu Zhizhong stared in disbelief, unable to process it. “Yangyang, what did you just say?”
“I said I want to stay, stay in Shanghai,” she repeated, resolute.
“Shanghai’s about to fall to the Japanese. Why stay?” Xu Zhizhong demanded loudly.
A trace of confusion crossed Tan Yang’s face; she gave a helpless, sorrowful smile. “Before I had our daughter, I promised him that whatever happened, I wouldn’t leave Shanghai.”
Xu Zhizhong, agitated, retorted, “But you’re divorced! It’s been so long, you have nothing to do with him anymore!”
Tan Yang’s tears welled up as she looked into his eyes, lost and helpless. “I know. I know full well. But I still want to stay.”

It was as if a grenade had exploded overhead; Xu Zhizhong’s mind reeled. He forced himself to pace the room, then sat beside Tan Yang, his tone reverting to its usual warmth and certainty. “Yangyang, Mr. Bi is taking your daughter to Hong Kong—he’s had the tickets for a while, probably already boarded. Even if Mr. Bi stayed in Shanghai, you couldn’t live with him anymore. Why torment yourself? You’ll only make your life miserable.”

He gently laid his hand over hers. “I know I’ve been restless and rash lately, making things hard for you. We can take time to decide about marriage, or when we reach Chongqing, if you don’t want to be with me, want to go to Hong Kong or abroad—I’ll help you. But for now, you must come with me. A woman alone in occupied territory is too dangerous; for your safety, you can’t stay.”

Tan Yang wiped her tears, speaking softly, “The real issue is, in this moment, in this frame of mind, I can’t leave with you. Leaving would mean overturning everything, starting life anew. I don’t have the courage or resolve. Only recently have I realized, I truly can’t let go.”
Xu Zhizhong pressed her, “But why? There must be a reason.”
Tan Yang struggled to speak, “Not long ago, I found out that he—he’s been smoking opium, recklessly, for more than a year.” She broke down in tears. “Knowing this, it hurts even more than if I were ill or addicted myself. I’d rather be the one suffering.”

Xu Zhizhong’s strength drained away. He slumped against the sofa, catching sight of a painting on the wall opposite—one Tan Yang had painted that spring, a masterstroke. Xu Zhizhong had composed a verse for it, perfectly matching the scene, artful and witty. Tan Yang had loved it, insisting they frame it together and hang it in the room. Xu Zhizhong had begged several times to borrow it for a few days, but she refused, showing how much she cherished it.

Xu Zhizhong straightened, looking at Tan Yang, confidence in his voice. “But you clearly won’t forgive him! And you know better than anyone—there’s no one more suited to be your husband than me. Why are you so stubborn?”

Tan Yang grew calm, pondering a moment before speaking. “When I was a child, my father placed a large vat under my window, raising two rare Jade Butterfly lotus plants for me. He said girls should possess both beauty and strength, but more importantly, should always live upright, untouched by filth, unsullied by the mundane, forever reaching toward the light, never ceasing in this life.”

She lowered her eyes. “I’ve always believed I should live as my father hoped. Through the years, I’ve strived—never lazy in comfort, never resigned in hardship. But in this era, where every parting could be forever, every departure a lifetime, even knowing life with you would be peaceful and happy, I feel no stirrings. I simply wish to stay, to suffer if I must, because,” Tan Yang looked at Xu Zhizhong with heartbreaking clarity, “what I’ve seen and felt these days has taught me that true love is not ascending to heaven together, living in bliss till old age; it is going alone into hell, willingly, never to return.”

Xu Zhizhong stood, bitterly mocking, “I thought I was obsessed enough, but the two of you are even more so!” He struggled toward the door, turning back stubbornly, “I’ll wait for you downstairs!”

Time ticked by, minute after minute. Xu Zhizhong sat motionless in the car, watching the distant smoke and hearing the gunfire nearby. He thought bitterly, “If not for this war, she wouldn’t have to make this choice! If not for this uniform, I could stay too!” He checked his watch—just fifteen minutes to three o’clock. Anxious, he ordered his young adjutant, “Go up and check!”

The adjutant was young and slight, his uniform ill-fitting, eyes large and always anxious, as if perpetually startled and lost. He hurried up the stairs, returning minutes later to report, troubled, “Sir, I told Miss Tan the order is to evacuate Shanghai by three o’clock, or it’ll be too late. But she—she said she won’t go, and asked you to take care along the way.”

Xu Zhizhong clenched his fist and slammed it against the car door, dull pain spreading. He sat for a long while, watching the minute hand inch forward. Abruptly, he looked at the adjutant, his face cold and fierce. “Go up, go up there and…” He pulled out the handcuffs from behind the seat, his expression as if charging into battle. The adjutant trembled, stammering, “Sir, what—what should I do?”

Seeing the adjutant’s shock and confusion, Xu Zhizhong was overcome by sadness. If he really did that, he’d see that same expression on Tan Yang’s face. He pressed his head against the car seat, powerless. After a long while, he summoned his resolve, took the pistol from his chest and handed it to the adjutant, choking out, “Give her this. Tell her to be careful. She must take care.”

At five minutes to three, the car started, speeding away in a cloud of dust. Inside, Xu Zhizhong’s heart was ashen.

Not far from Shanghai, on the road to Nanjing, Vice-Adjutant Lin waited anxiously by the roadside. When Xu Zhizhong’s car appeared, he finally breathed a sigh of relief. The car stopped; Lin opened the door and carefully placed a red silk bundle inside. “Sir, before leaving the city, I picked up the wedding gown you ordered for your wife from the tailor. The ceremony in Chongqing can be arranged, but without this, the date might be delayed.”

Xu Zhizhong’s trembling hands took the bundle, cradling it silently. Lin, sensing something amiss, peered inside, uneasy. “Where’s your wife? Did she leave in another car?”
Xu Zhizhong shook his head, despairing. “No, she’s not coming with me.” With that, he hugged the bundle tightly, burying his head.

Lin staggered back in disbelief, checked the time, then looked toward distant Shanghai, teeth clenched. Almost simultaneously, Lin dragged the adjutant from the car, berating him, “Why didn’t you bring her out?”
The adjutant was flustered. “She—she didn’t want to leave!”
Lin kicked him angrily, gritting his teeth. “She didn’t want to? If she refused, why didn’t you knock her out and tie her up?” He brandished his belt as if to strike, and the adjutant crouched down, sobbing.

In the end, Lin didn’t lay a hand on him. He threw the belt at the adjutant’s feet, then looked at Xu Zhizhong on the seat, clutching the bridal gown and crying as if his heart would break. Lin said, mournfully, “If I and Vice-Adjutant Li were still around, this wouldn’t have happened! The battlefield is like the field of love—why does he always insist on being a gentleman?”

Because the retreat order came suddenly, the withdrawal was almost a rout. The soldiers who fought bravely for half a year at Songhu left their lives and blood behind, yet still failed to hold the land. On the road to Nanjing, Xu Zhizhong’s car overtook another—the wife of Commander Sui inside, with Sui Wanting lying in her mother’s arms, hair disheveled, face gaunt.

Xu Zhizhong’s heart wrenched. He closed his eyes, sighing inwardly—in this war, he had lost so much: his homeland, his beloved, his friends. With nothing left to lose, he alone remained, enduring the world’s deepest pain and suffering.

Meanwhile, at the military hospital on Shanghai’s outskirts, after settling the wounded onto trucks, an officer grabbed Liu Fazhu’s sleeve. “Doctor Liu, come with me. Chief Zhang instructed me to take you and this batch of wounded with us.”
Liu Fazhu looked up at the military doctor caring for the wounded on the truck. “These wounded are already in good hands. I’ll go with the next group.”

Amid the rumble of planes and artillery, Liu Fazhu stood at the hospital gate, watching the departing truck shrink into a black dot. Unaccountably, he murmured his wife’s name, “Xiangning.”

In the apartment in Shanghai, Tan Yang sat alone on the sofa. Outside, gunfire and shouting filled the air. Alone, she struggled to hide her immense fear, gripping the small American pistol tightly…

Author’s Note: Background music—by Roman
If I could ask for a little youth for you
I would keep it in my heart
Though black hair turns to frost, yellow flowers fall, beauty fades
I only wish some innocence remains in the heart
Sunset in the west, dusk falls over the horizon
We are about to enter the twilight
Looking back, how much sweetness, how much sorrow, rises and falls
Never regret sharing this life with you
In the valley, lights begin to appear
Dusk gradually deepens
You and I, smiling through tears
Lament that time leaves nothing behind
In the evening wind, my songs fill the air
Telling of so many old dreams
In the night, only each other’s gaze remains
We will vanish together in the twilight