96 (94) Ancient Town

That day, Uncle Chen passed away before Yan Qin could arrive. For his sake, Bi Qingtang arranged a dignified funeral that shook all of Shanghai, exhibiting the utmost grief and honor.

On the morning of the funeral, before dawn, Tan Yang came to the Bi residence. After washing and dressing her daughter, Yan Qin suddenly looked up at her mother, tears brimming in her eyes, and asked, “Mom, everyone says Grandpa has died, but what does dying mean?”

“Dying means crossing the ocean, going far, far away,” Tan Yang replied.

“Is it farther than when you went to study in Germany? Will I be able to see Grandpa again someday?” the child asked.

“Yes! When you grow up, travel a long road, meet many people, and understand profound truths, then you’ll be able to see Grandpa again,” Tan Yang answered.

After responding to her daughter’s questions, Tan Yang knelt beside her and dressed her in white hemp mourning clothes. Tan Yang’s life experiences and daily work gave her a keen awareness of death’s cruelty. Because of this, she wished to teach her daughter—and convince herself—that death is not annihilation but transformation. The death of loved ones, friends, even strangers, all followed this truth.

Fundamentally, before facing life calmly, one must first learn to view death philosophically.

Once Yan Qin was dressed in mourning, Bi Qingtang arrived to take her away. From the window upstairs, Tan Yang watched the pair’s backs as they departed, draped in mourning garb amidst a sea of paper money and white flowers, their sorrow strikingly poignant and desolate.

The cold-blooded and despicable manner in which that old man killed her father was contemptible; yet, the same man had once risked his life to rescue a stranger from Japanese soldiers, simply because the girl reminded him of his own daughter. Tan Yang was bewildered—human nature was inherently complex, yet the world insisted on clear distinctions between right and wrong, good and evil. How could it be so simple?

That night, Bi Qingtang returned late, exhausted. He tossed off his coat and lay down, lighting his opium pipe. As smoke curled, he noticed the bedroom door open, and Tan Yang entered carrying food. Surprised, Bi Qingtang sat up and hurriedly set aside his pipe. Tan Yang placed the dishes before him, scolding softly, “After a whole day out, you come home and don’t even eat, just smoke that opium!”

Bi Qingtang took the chopsticks from her hand, glanced at the clock, and muttered, “So late, I thought you had left.”

“If I left, would you just smoke? Looks like your opium is just for show,” she teased. He smiled sheepishly, not daring to reply.

Worry etched on her face, Tan Yang asked, “Why did you come back so late? What were you doing?”

Seeing her anxious expression, Bi Qingtang understood her concern. Gently brushing his hand against her cheek, he said softly, “Afraid I went after the Japanese soldiers again? No, I stayed a little longer at the cemetery with Uncle Chen,” his expression darkened, “Actually, what you’re worried about was what Uncle Chen feared most. When he knocked out a Japanese soldier with a stick, even after being shot, he still managed to pick up a gun and kill those two soldiers! He was afraid I would recklessly seek revenge like Sister Fang Ya.”

He fixed his gaze on Tan Yang, emotion thick but meaningful, “Little sister, Uncle Chen thought of me until his last breath! How could I ever betray his wishes?” Pausing, he added coldly, “My feud with the Japanese isn’t over. This is just the beginning.”

After he finished eating, Tan Yang stood to clear the dishes, but Bi Qingtang pulled her close, “It’s so late, don’t go, stay with me a while.” She smiled and shook her head, jokingly, “No, I won’t stay with an opium addict!”

Frowning, Bi Qingtang retorted, “Don’t say that!”

Looking at him tenderly, Tan Yang stroked his hair and pleaded quietly, “Please quit opium—it was Uncle Chen’s greatest concern before he passed.” Her eyes reddened, and after a moment’s hesitation, she added, “It’s my biggest wish too.”

Her words made Bi Qingtang’s nose tingle. He drew her into a tight embrace, nodding emotionally, “Alright, I’ll quit.” He smiled stubbornly, “I’ll quit for you! I…” but she interrupted, “Don’t say ‘for me’! Quitting opium makes a man neither alive nor dead—I don’t want to scare you or the child.”

Tan Yang gripped his hand, pleading, “Then leave Nan Nan for a while. I’ll go with you somewhere else. In times like these, I have to be by your side! When you’re suffering, don’t you want me with you? Just like now!”

Her words struck deep. After years of trials, he had finally found such love—how fortunate, how blessed.

They were silent for some time, holding each other. Without having touched a drop, Bi Qingtang smiled drunkenly, “Alright, if I really quit, you have to spend some good time with me outside!” When Tan Yang nodded, he pressed further, “Day and night.”

He laughed uncontrollably as the moon set outside, the pale moonlight casting a glow—just the right time for family to be together, a new dawn approaching.

In midsummer, in the water town of Tongli, amid the chorus of frogs and cicadas, a thin veil of coolness lingered—a coolness born from millennia of cleansing, subtle and refined. Only by savoring it could one grasp the unique charm of the ancient water town.

At dusk, a black awning boat docked at the pier. Bi Qingtang disembarked, lamenting, “You arrived so fast, I barely heard you play a few tunes!”

Beside him, Tan Yang teased, “Since when do you like listening to the small ruan?”

He sighed softly, wistfully, “After thinking I’d never hear you play again, even the faintest similar sound makes my heart tremble. No famous Peking opera singer’s voice ever moved me so.” Stepping ashore, he pulled Tan Yang up with him. Looking at the faded but still clear characters “Tan Residence” carved into the doorframe, he took a deep breath, his expression complex. “Fifteen years, so fast.”

Their door was opened by Aunt Wu, who after the January 28 Incident in 1932, had left Shanghai to care for her seriously ill husband in Tongli. After his death, she stayed on to look after the Tan family’s old home. Each winter she brought her son to Shanghai to deliver Tongli’s rent to Tan Yang.

Seeing Tan Yang, Aunt Wu grabbed her hand, slapping her thigh excitedly, “Oh Miss, you really came back! A few days ago, someone brought word you’d be home for a few days. I waited day and night and finally you’ve returned!” She squinted to examine her, “Your complexion is so much better now, not like last winter when you were so thin…”

Bi Qingtang joked teasingly as he had their luggage unloaded, “You old woman, you just had to stand at the gate gossiping with your missy! After such a long boat trip, you still won’t let us in!”

Aunt Wu, noticing Bi Qingtang, squinted in surprise, “Boss Bi, you’re here too!” He scowled, “Have you forgotten how to address me in your old age?” She smiled perfunctorily and went inside.

Bi Qingtang chuckled at the scene, whispering to Tan Yang, “I always had it easy in Shanghai, but with the people around you, I’m constantly twisted and tormented!” She glared at him, chiding, “So you want to blame me?” “No, no, I’m asking for a reward!” They laughed together, hand in hand, and entered the courtyard.

Early summer in the ancient town by the water was muggy and oppressive. As soon as Bi Qingtang entered, he took off his coat and had someone fetch water to wipe his face in a small back room. After waiting a long time and seeing no sign of Tan Yang, he wandered toward the back garden. At the door of Tan Yang’s old chamber, he tried the door, locked with a double emperor bolt. He gently opened a window and saw her bathing in a large wooden tub. Pausing, he suddenly swung the window wide open and climbed in.

Tan Yang, startled, turned and saw him, blushing as she scolded, “What are you doing? If you knocked, I would have come and opened the door for you!”

Bi Qingtang grinned, bending down to rest a hand lightly on her shoulder, teasing, “Do you expect me to wait for you to dress before opening the door? Such trouble for little sister—big brother wouldn’t dare!”

Tan Yang shrugged off his hand; near her ear, Bi Qingtang asked softly, “What’s wrong?”

“It itches,” she whispered.

He laughed, unable to resist, slipped both hands into the tub, gently stroking her waist, fingertips brushing her cheek as he smiled, “Does that make it itch? What about now?”

Tan Yang laughed so hard she gasped and pushed him away, “Stop, you’re killing me with the tickles!” They laughed together, and after a while, she collapsed into his arms.

Bi Qingtang stroked her forehead, savoring the moment, “The old house is best. When you bathed at home, you’d lock the door tight; the washroom had no window and you made me jump!” Tan Yang smiled silently. Bi Qingtang gazed at her unwaveringly, his eyes full of deep affection. She felt intoxicated, instinctively closing her eyes. He leaned down to kiss her; their lips tangled as they clung tightly to each other.

At that moment, a steady knock sounded. Aunt Wu called from outside, “Miss, open the door! I’ve brought your clothes!”

Bi Qingtang, flustered, stood and reluctantly opened the door. Aunt Wu, surprised to see him, muttered, “I was wondering where you’d gone.” Annoyed, Bi Qingtang grabbed the clothes from her hands, “Mind your own business! Take these and go back.” Aunt Wu noticed his wet hands dripping water, pouted, “Don’t get the clothes wet then they can’t be worn!” With that, she swaggered inside.

She handed the clothes to Tan Yang, “Miss, these are the clothes you wore before, still like new. When I heard you were coming back, I washed them days ago. The qipao is too stiff for summer; now we’re home, wear these.”

“Alright, Aunt Wu, you can put them there.”

“Come out soon. It’s hot and I didn’t prepare very hot water. If you wash in cold water, you’ll catch a chill in this dog days heat!” Tan Yang nodded, “Okay, I’ll change now. You two go out first.” She looked apologetically at Bi Qingtang.

His anger from before melted at her smile, but he didn’t know how to vent it. He stepped out of the room, with Aunt Wu trailing behind, politely greeting him in the courtyard, “Boss Bi, I wasn’t prepared for your arrival, so dinner was rushed. Please forgive me…”

Bi Qingtang spun around and shouted, “Call me son-in-law!”

Startled, Aunt Wu lost her bravado and hesitated, “Oh, have you remarried?”

Bi Qingtang’s face darkened, uneasy, “No, but soon.” Aunt Wu laughed awkwardly.

They stood awkwardly for a moment before Bi Qingtang cleared his throat and reluctantly smiled, pulling a wad of bills from his pocket and pressing it into Aunt Wu’s hand. “It’s been years. This is from me and little sister to honor you.”

Aunt Wu felt the thickness of the notes in her pocket, then with a serious face said out of habit, “Thank you, son-in-law.”

Hearing that, Bi Qingtang finally relaxed, turning to leave feeling much lighter and more at peace.

After dinner, while Aunt Wu chatted with Tan Yang, Bi Qingtang returned to Tan Yang’s room. Sitting for a while, he lit his opium lamp and took up his pipe. Before he could draw a smoke, Tan Yang entered. He smiled and resolutely said, “Last time—starting tomorrow, I won’t touch it again.”

“Really?”

“Cross my heart!”

Tan Yang smiled, satisfied, then sat beside him to prepare the opium bubble, lighting the lamp for him. Bi Qingtang looked at her deeply, “Little sister, every time you tell me what to do, it feels like you’re yielding to me,” he paused, distracted, “But me? I’m the one who falls for that every time!”

Tan Yang glanced at him, pursing her lips in a smile. She wore a pale green pipa-collared short jacket and creamy pleated skirt flowing to her ankles. Her long hair, freshly washed, released a faint osmanthus fragrance—a careless, refined beauty like a breeze washing away summer’s stifling heat. Lowering her head, she carefully tended the smoke lamp, her slender, fair fingers catching the light, a rosy flush on her cheeks. Behind her, a pale blue gauze screen framed the swaying shadows of trees beneath the eaves—a picture-perfect scene.

Watching her, Bi Qingtang squinted, nearly dozing off. Aunt Wu came in with tea, noticed the pipe and his sprawled form, rolled her eyes, and left.

Watching Bi Qingtang leisurely puffing smoke, Tan Yang asked, puzzled, “Is opium really that good? What does it feel like?”

He paused, set down his pipe, grabbed her arm, and with a sudden tug pulled her into his embrace. Gently but seriously, he said, “It feels like what you’re holding isn’t a pipe…”

He looked at her meaningfully, a look of sorrow on his face. Understanding, Tan Yang clung to his neck and sobbed.

Later, after urging him to sleep, Tan Yang was about to leave. Bi Qingtang frowned, displeased, “You tell me to sleep, then where are you going?”

“To sleep in Father’s room!”

He frowned, commanding, “No!”

After a moment, he stood, took her hand, smiling enticingly, “If you cry, you’ll have nightmares. Sweating before bed helps.”

Tan Yang gently withdrew her hand, serious, “Not tonight. Tomorrow I’ll start helping you quit to regain your strength.” After a moment, she added, “I’ll stay with you after you quit.”

Bi Qingtang’s expression hardened, “Alright, then I’ll definitely quit!”

On a summer morning, Bi Qingtang strolled through the courtyard. The water town’s air was cool and fresh, bringing endless comfort. The back door stood open, Aunt Wu squatted by the river washing lotus roots, while Tan Yang sat on the stone steps beside her.

“You two didn’t sleep together last night?” Aunt Wu asked.

“Why do you ask, Aunt Wu?”

“I’m worried. If you have another child, he’ll control your whole life.”

Hearing “child,” Tan Yang sighed helplessly, “I’m not lucky enough for that.”

“That’s still luck? Miss, you’re such a smart scholar, but when you’re with him, you lose your sense. I think you were too young when you met him, easily fooled. He’s out there with all kinds of shady women, addicted to opium, and you still pay attention to him? Women are most foolish at times like this. I say this not to anger you—I consider myself family, so I want what’s best for you.” Aunt Wu frowned, splashing water from the lotus roots into the river.

Tan Yang explained helplessly, “Aunt Wu, I’ve told you many times—it’s not what you think! People like to imagine stories about others without caring if they’re true.”

“I think you’re defending him. I don’t know much about him, but I know Officer Xu is really good—educated and reasonable, obviously from a wealthy family. If you’d met him earlier, you wouldn’t be involved with Bi. He’s such a big official, yet so polite to me, calling me ‘Old Madam’. When we returned to Tongli, I said I’d take the boat, but he sent a car for us—it was quite the scene, the whole town saw it. That was my son’s first time in a car,” Aunt Wu muttered, “And he’s much more generous…”

Tan Yang laughed, “Alright, next time I’ll tell him to be less stingy with us. How could he be so unreasonable?”

Aunt Wu hurried to defend, “No, it’s not just that. Anyone with eyes can see Officer Xu is truly better—much better than Boss Bi!”

Tan Yang replied slowly, “That’s how others see it, but I think he is so good I can’t even compare him to anyone else. Without him, the world would look completely different.” She turned to Aunt Wu, serious, “So Aunt Wu, please don’t say things like that anymore.”

Behind them, Bi Qingtang’s face darkened listening to Aunt Wu’s chatter, but after Tan Yang’s words, his heart stirred deeply. Though still aching inside, a faint smile appeared on his face.

After breakfast, Tan Yang brought Bi Qingtang and a box containing his pipe and lamp to a quiet riverside spot. Opening the box, she showed him and tilted her head, “Your treasure—shall we throw it away?”

“Alright!”

“What do you mean alright? Do it yourself!” Bi Qingtang laughed and pinched her cheek, then tossed the pipe into the river with a splash. Watching it sink, Tan Yang exhaled deeply, smiling.

That night, Tan Yang tied Bi Qingtang to the bedposts with cotton rope. When cravings hit in the middle of the night, the unbearable itching and pain made him bang his head against the headboard loudly. Worried he’d hurt himself, Tan Yang placed a pillow between his head and the bedpost.

About ten minutes later, Doctor Tan administered an injection. Just regaining clarity from withdrawal, Bi Qingtang scolded Tan Yang, “What were you reaching for earlier? Did I hurt myself?”

Holding his neck, Tan Yang replied softly, “No.”

This cycle of cravings and injections continued for two days. On the third day, after breakfast, Tan Yang nervously but cheerfully said, “From today on, no more injections, alright?” Bi Qingtang sighed, “Alright, but I’m afraid you’ll be too soft-hearted to stick to it.” Tan Yang looked at her medicine box confidently, “I won’t!”

That afternoon, whenever the drug withdrawal pain struck—burning, itching, as if thousands of ants gnawed at his bones—he clenched his teeth and howled, the agonized cries echoing through the empty courtyard. Tan Yang wept silently beside him.

Watching the one she loved suffer so, she wished she could bear the pain in his stead.

Sweat drenched his body, eyes bloodshot, Bi Qingtang called out, “Little sister, give me another shot—please!”

Tan Yang jumped up, looked at the medicine box, then sat down again, shaking her head through tears, “No more. I only brought ten doses.”

She had anticipated this moment and feared her own weakness, so she hadn’t brought extra medicine and had already thrown away the pipe.

Hearing this, Bi Qingtang lost all reason. With a surge of strength, he snapped the cotton rope binding his right hand. Tan Yang grabbed his arm, crying, “What are you doing?”

“Going to the river to retrieve the pipe!” he shouted, eyes fixed on the door as he broke free from the other ropes.

Tan Yang was terrified, clutching his waist with all her might, begging, “No, don’t! You’ll drown like this!”

Bi Qingtang tried to pull her away, but she refused to let go. Overwhelmed by the withdrawal pain, he instinctively squeezed her arm. His strength was great and the pain made her cry out, which snapped him back to some clarity. Summoning all his will, he grabbed a bedpost. At the peak of his pain, the post snapped with a crack, and he fainted.

Tan Yang looked at her own arm and the broken post, heartbroken. Even in this life-or-death moment, he worried about not hurting her. Who else in this world could compare?

When Bi Qingtang regained consciousness, he found himself tied tightly to the bed with rough hemp ropes. Tan Yang wiped the sweat from his body and fed him ginseng soup. Before he finished, the itching and pain surged anew, stabbing deep in his heart. Through the relentless torment, his wrists and ankles were rubbed raw by the ropes. Tan Yang stayed by his side, weeping.

On the hardest night of withdrawal, amidst unbearable agony, Bi Qingtang hoarsely screamed, “Little sister, I regret it! I’ve regretted it for so long, you know that?”

Tan Yang held him close, soothing him like a child, sobbing, “I know, I know.”

Sometimes, through hellish suffering, one attains enlightenment and is reborn.

After two weeks locked in the room, Bi Qingtang finally and completely quit opium. The two had walked hand in hand through their personal hell.

From that morning, the cravings never returned. Tan Yang helped him bathe and after eating, exhausted, they fell asleep clutching each other. When they woke at midnight, they smiled—a shared joy born of surviving death together. Bi Qingtang gently stroked her cheek, tenderly saying, “Look at you, suffering with me, your face has lost a bit more flesh.” Tan Yang turned to kiss his palm, smiling shyly.

Bi Qingtang looked at her, softly calling “Little sister,” then kissed her. His hands wandered naturally over her body. When Tan Yang snapped back to awareness, all the buttons of her jacket had been undone. Flushed, she pushed his hands away, scolding, “No! After all this fuss, you still have energy? Take it slow!”

Bi Qingtang lay down beside her, smiling against her cheek, then reached lower.

Tan Yang’s face deepened in blush. Bi Qingtang murmured softly, “I’m out of energy, you come up.” She buried her head in his neck, stammering, “I... I’m scared.”

He chuckled softly, coaxing, “You can do it, come on! Try!”

After hesitating, she adjusted her hair and slowly raised herself...

Author’s note: Sisters, Merry Christmas! o(n_n)o 166 Reading Network