98 (96) Joyful News

That day, on the way back, Tan Yang walked ahead, tears streaming down uncontrollably like a broken dam. She raised her hand to wipe them away, a scene that Bi Qingtang, walking behind her, witnessed in full but lacked the courage to approach and comfort her.

Once, his countless lies had brought about this very day—her repeated disappointments.

That very day, the town’s pharmacy owner, Mr. Niu, hastily packed his belongings, took his family, shuttered the shop, and fled Tongli overnight, disappearing without a trace.

Late at night, alone in her room, Tan Yang sat beneath the flickering kerosene lamp, watching the shadows dance across the lampshade. She felt that her life, not yet worn by age, was burning down to despair like the flame—ignited and extinguished in endless cycles—until the oil ran dry and the lamp died.

In the small parlor, Bi Qingtang sat with his head bowed, drinking the town’s homemade yellow wine. Aunt Wu tiptoed in, eyeing the empty wine jar on the table. Cautiously, she offered her concern, “Master, cold wine in chilly weather harms the body, and drinking it like this is even worse. You should drink less, or else I’ll tell the young lady—she’d be worried.” Bi Qingtang’s hand holding the cup paused. His face darkened, troubled. “Don’t bother her,” he muttered. Aunt Wu, puzzled, showed him the wooden basin in her hands. “Master, the water chestnuts you asked me to boil are ready. Shall I bring them to the young lady?” Bi Qingtang glanced sideways at the steaming chestnuts, thoughtful, then set down the cup. “No need. Leave them here for now.”

At dawn the next day, Tan Yang boarded a black-sailed boat alone, intending to return to Shanghai. Aunt Wu chattered in her ear, “Why go back alone? Are you sulking again? You’ve been like an old married couple, yet still throw such fits over little things.” She placed two large food containers on the boat and muttered, “Peeling those water chestnuts, cutting your hand—thought today you’d be praising me on the boat!”

The boatman pushed the vessel away from the dock with a long pole. Bi Qingtang burst out from the doorway, standing on the shore, shouting miserably, “Little sister, now that things have come to this, if I still say it wasn’t me, you won’t believe it, will you?” Tan Yang, standing at the bow, closed her eyes briefly and shook her head weakly.

Near disembarkation, Tan Yang noticed the two large food containers in the boat’s cabin and, puzzled, opened the lids. They were packed top to bottom with peeled water chestnuts.

Peeling two such large containers—surely it took a whole night? The thought stung her deeply. She hugged the containers tightly, tears streaming uncontrollably.

What does it mean to regret too late? It means that all this effort was unnecessary now, if only she had done just a little less back then…

Bi Qingtang had stayed in Tongli for over two months, his mind entirely fixated there, as if oblivious to anything beyond. When he finally returned to Shanghai, he learned that during this time, Master Zou had suffered a grave misfortune.

After Shanghai fell under occupation, the Japanese set their sights on Master Zou’s cement factory—a massive enterprise producing a wartime scarce resource. The factory was difficult to relocate, making it a prime target. The Japanese tried various tactics—offering to buy shares, pushing Master Zou to become an official under the puppet government. But the old gentleman remained unmoved, stubbornly resisting.

By autumn, the Japanese grew impatient and posted notices at the factory gates announcing the deployment of troops by month’s end to take formal control. Thus, they bypassed Master Zou entirely, seizing the factory outright. Master Zou found himself powerless, with no choice or room for maneuver, even over his own factory.

That evening, standing beside the notice posted at the gate, Master Zou looked back at the vast enterprise he had built with a lifetime’s effort. Tears streamed down his face as he struck the ground with his cane, lamenting bitterly, “Our nation is doomed, our country lost, and I am powerless! The legacy I painstakingly built over decades will now serve as a tool for the Japanese invaders—turning against my own people!”

Workers leaving their shifts saw this scene, moved to tears. They surrounded Master Zou in layers, shouting, “Sir, we won’t work tomorrow!” “We’d rather starve at home than produce cement for Japanese military projects!” Master Zou was deeply touched. Bowing deeply, he said solemnly, “Dear comrades, you truly shame me with your loyalty!”

That night, Master Zou returned home and dismissed his extended family. Under cover of darkness, his men filled the factory’s buildings with gasoline and explosives. After sending them away, he struck a match and threw it onto the factory’s most valuable British machine. “Come with me, all of you. Better to turn to ash than allow the Japanese to use our cement to harm our own people.” Flames roared up instantly.

That night, the blazing fire of the suburban cement factory dyed the sky red, the deafening explosions ringing late into the night. The fire consumed Master Zou, his silver hair ablaze, and the life’s work he had poured his heart into. Alongside them turned to ash were decades of the patriotic dream of industrial salvation for the nation.

Bi Qingtang, who had known Master Zou for over twenty years, was filled with rage and sorrow at his death. He thought of Uncle Chen and Fang Ya. By now, he had to admit that Zhao Ling’s oft-repeated phrase, “Without a country, how can there be a family?” held undeniable truth. In the face of overwhelming national crisis, no matter how much power or wealth one had, no one could remain untouched, let alone protect their loved ones.

If one day Master Zou’s fate were to befall him, Bi Qingtang reckoned he would rather die than yield. Yet to kill him would not be easy. Should they drive him to desperation, he would drag all the Japanese in Shanghai down with him in death! He thought with bitter hatred.

After returning to Shanghai, Tan Yang continued her twice-weekly visits to the Bi residence to teach their daughter painting. When she met Bi Qingtang, they exchanged greetings and spoke briefly about the child. Tan Yang sensed his lingering reluctance and unspoken words, but she felt too drained to explore them. Those two months in Tongli seemed to have sapped all her strength; she was perpetually weary, even breathing felt exhausting.

A little over a month after returning to Shanghai, Tan Yang suddenly missed a week’s visit to the Bi residence. Bi Qingtang sent Yan Qin to inquire; Tan Yang replied only that the hospital was crowded with patients and she was very tired, promising to return after some rest.

Half a month passed. At dusk, Bi Qingtang saw Tan Yang arrive at the Bi residence in a rickshaw. It was late autumn edging into winter; the trees had shed their leaves, the streets looked stark, and though not yet bitterly cold, Tan Yang wore a thick cashmere coat fit for deep winter. Bi Qingtang, puzzled, hurried downstairs to greet her.

“Are you catching a cold?” he asked.

“No,” she replied.

“Then why wear so much?”

“The weather’s been unpredictable lately; I’m afraid of catching cold.”

Bi Qingtang chuckled softly. “If only you’d taken better care of yourself earlier, I wouldn’t have worried about you all these years.” He studied her face closely. “Your complexion doesn’t look well.”

Tan Yang caught his tone and, with a straight face, joked, “Maybe I haven’t put on any powder these past few days?”

Seeing her initiate the joke, Bi Qingtang smiled warmly, walking beside her. “Nonsense. No powder could make you look better than you do naturally. You’re the only one who can buy such magic.”

Tan Yang neither followed him nor replied. When Bi Qingtang glanced back, she stood still, watching him thoughtfully, a faint, almost imperceptible smile on her lips.

In subsequent visits, Tan Yang always appeared exhausted. Concerned, Bi Qingtang asked Liu Fazu if the hospital’s patient load was overwhelming her. Liu replied that patient numbers were actually low, and Tan Yang had even referred some patients to others. She shouldn’t be that tired. His concern deepened into suspicion.

One early winter evening, a biting wind blew outside, but inside the house, warmth prevailed. Tan Yang sat on the sofa teaching their daughter to paint a pomegranate—a symbol of fertility in traditional Chinese culture. Yan Qin listened carefully, then bent over her work.

Bi Qingtang stepped out to take a brief call. Returning within minutes, he found Tan Yang asleep, leaning back on the sofa.

He quickly took their daughter out, then returned with a blanket to cover Tan Yang gently. Glancing down, he noticed her flat shoes—she hadn’t worn heels in some time. In a flash, a memory struck him: there had been a time when Tan Yang often dozed off, even falling asleep mid-conversation. That was when she was pregnant with Yan Qin.

Bi Qingtang quietly turned off the light and sat beside her. In the dark stillness, he could hear his heart pounding wildly and erratically. He dared not think further, fearing he was mistaken. The rollercoaster from hope to despair, from anticipation to emptiness, was more than he could bear again.

At that moment, Yan Qin was diligently painting the pomegranate in her room—the very symbol of many children in Chinese tradition.

When Tan Yang awoke, it was already past ten at night. Their daughter was asleep, and the Bi residence was peaceful. Bi Qingtang sat beside her, smiling with meaning she could not decipher.

“Awake?” he asked.

“I don’t know how I fell asleep,” Tan Yang whispered.

He rose to pour her a cup of warm water and casually said, “You’ve caught a cold. A foreigner gave me some medicine for headaches and fevers—just two pills should help. I’ll get it for you.”

“No! Don’t! I’m not sick with a cold. And medicine isn’t to be taken casually!” Tan Yang’s words were scattered, her refusal abrupt. Bi Qingtang’s eyes lit up instantly, then he smiled with a knowing look.

Early the next morning, Bi Qingtang went to Tan Yang’s hospital. Lin Zhiju, just exiting a ward, greeted him warmly. “Boss Bi! Yangyang should be in the consultation room. Didn’t you see her?”

Bi Qingtang nodded slightly. “I’m here to see you. I have some questions for Doctor Lin.”

In Lin Zhiju’s office, after a long pause, Bi Qingtang asked vaguely, “Doctor Lin, if a renowned gynecologist says a woman cannot conceive again, is there still a chance?”

Lin Zhiju folded her stethoscope twice in her hands, her expression complex. “Infertility differs from other diseases. As long as the organs are intact, infertility is a matter of probability. Saying she can’t conceive really means the chance is low. Childbirth itself carries an air of mystery; when timing, environment, and harmony align, even the most unlikely events can occur.”

Bi Qingtang nodded eagerly. “Perfect—timing, environment, harmony! Well put. You doctors are truly skilled!” He smiled broadly, stood, and took his leave.

Before opening the door, Lin Zhiju called out hesitantly, “Boss Bi!”

He turned. She said, “Yangyang asked me the same question some days ago. I gave her the same answer. She was so happy to hear it!”

His joy was overwhelming. He pounded his fist on the door, laughing uncontrollably, “It’s true! It’s really true!”

Lin Zhiju, seeing this usually reserved man so joyful, smiled sincerely, “Congratulations!”

Bi Qingtang’s eyes glistened with emotion. “Some joys are beyond imagining.”

Outside the consultation room, he saw Tan Yang patiently examining a swaddled infant, listening attentively, then writing a prescription. She gently touched the child’s head, her face glowing with affectionate wonder. Bi Qingtang nearly laughed aloud. At that moment, his heart melted into a pure, soft puddle.

Leaving the hospital and settling into his car, Bi Qingtang’s face shone with an irrepressible smile. Crossing his legs and lighting a cigarette, he hummed snippets of an opera.

Old driver Li fired up the engine and joked, “Boss, you’re in a good mood today. Haven’t seen you so happy in years!”

Bi Qingtang examined his ivory cigarette holder edged with gold, his voice low but joyful. “Happy! My wife’s expecting. I’m going to be a father again—how could I not be happy?”

Li was surprised. “Really? That’s wonderful news! If she gives you a son this time, you’ll have everything you need!”

Bi Qingtang laughed, shaking his head. “Kids, sons or daughters, what difference does it make? Honestly, even if stray cats or dogs came running to me and my wife, I’d be overjoyed. And these are our own flesh and blood.” He smacked his lips. “I must admit, I’m probably a biased father—I’ll spoil the second child even more!”

Li laughed in disbelief. “Boss, you already spoil the young lady so much. How much better can you be for the next one? I can’t imagine!”

Bi Qingtang grinned. “You can’t imagine? Just wait and see!”

His spirits lifted since Fang Ya and Uncle Chen had passed, he often confided in his longtime driver when weighed down by pain.

He took a drag and said meaningfully, “The key is, this child came at just the right time. It breathed new life into a dead end.”

“So your wife can move back home?” Li asked cautiously.

Bi Qingtang answered without hesitation, “There’s a fifty percent chance.”

After pausing thoughtfully, he added decisively, “If I seize the opportunity this child brings, if she gives me one more chance and trusts me, then I have ninety percent confidence!”

Hearing this, Li brightened. He chatted on, “That’s right—adding a child is the greatest blessing. My daughter-in-law just found out she’s pregnant, and my wife hasn’t slept a wink for days in her excitement!”

“What? Li, you’re only a few years older than me, and you’re going to be a grandfather?” Bi Qingtang leaned forward, astonished.

Li laughed bashfully. “In the countryside, where people don’t study or work much, marriage and children come early. Many become grandparents before forty. My eldest son’s been married two years, and now his wife’s expecting. My wife was so happy, she went to the temple at night to get a protective charm.”

“A charm?” Bi Qingtang asked casually, knowing Li didn’t really believe in such things.

“Just a talisman for mother and child safety. They say it works, but who really knows…”

Now, Tan Yang was older than when she was pregnant with Yan Qin ten years ago; this pregnancy was more taxing. Bi Qingtang noticed her fatigue and worried deeply, but his heartfelt concern had no outlet. Nearly every day, he sent Youzi to visit the hospital; sometimes he spoke with her during breaks, bringing her favorite foods, or simply waited outside the consultation room to watch her work. On windy or rainy days, when she couldn’t drive and rickshaws were hard to hail, he would come to pick her up, and she silently accepted.

One day, as Tan Yang left the hospital, Bi Qingtang’s car was parked at the entrance. She looked up; the sky was clear and windless, though early winter had begun with a chill. Seeing her, Bi Qingtang quickly approached and carefully helped her into the car.

“The weather’s nice today. Why did you come?” he asked belatedly.

“Nice weather? I don’t feel it. These days, I can’t tell anymore. I asked old Li before leaving, and he said the weather’s bad.”

Li overheard and chuckled. “I’ve been asked so much about the weather lately, I’m scared to say it’s good—if I say good, the boss gets upset. If I say good again, he finds fault and loses his temper. So, madam, please, let’s assume every day is bad weather from now on. Anyway, it’s only getting colder, and taking rickshaws isn’t a long-term solution.”

“You don’t have to go through that. If you’re busy with work, I’m thinking of placing an ad for a driver,” Tan Yang said.

Bi Qingtang’s answer was troubled. “Why place an ad? If you want a driver, how about I learn to drive and be your driver?”

He sighed, looking out at the small building across from the hospital. “If you get a driver, I’ll just have to stand there every day watching you come and go!”

Tan Yang glanced incredulously at the building.

Bi Qingtang smiled wryly. “That building is mine. All the houses around your hospital belong to me.”

“And the hospital?” she asked.

“Used to be mine, but you bought it, so it’s yours now.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “I once thought, if I could buy all of Shanghai, I could see you openly every day. But alas, not even if I could afford it would I get to see you.”

His words brought tears to Tan Yang’s eyes. He quickly said, “So now, you must promise me two things: first, don’t get a driver; second...” He looked at her with tender affection and smiled. “No crying.” Tan Yang shot him a reproachful glance but obediently held back her tears.

They rode in silence. Near their apartment, Bi Qingtang suddenly smiled. “Lately, I keep dreaming of when Nan Nan was little—those tiny hands and feet, all round and chubby, so adorable you want to hold on tight and never let go. How did she grow up so fast? If only we could do it all over again.”

Tan Yang lowered her head, smiling softly, whispering, “I’ve been having those dreams too. When I wake, I think the same thing.”

Bi Qingtang laughed heartily. Wanting to seize the moment, he reached out to touch her still-flat belly but restrained himself. He would wait for the right time—the day he could openly place his hand on her stomach and say to their child, “Dad is here, and will always be.”

That weekend, Yan Qin came home with several top grades. She asked her parents to take her out, and they agreed. After dinner and a movie, on the way home, she tugged at her father’s hand. “Can we take a family photo? Matthew said his family does it every Christmas.”

Bi Qingtang smiled. “Good idea. We’ve never taken a family photo before.” He looked to Tan Yang for approval. Seeing their daughter’s hopeful gaze, she nodded.

Their car stopped on East Nanjing Road. The photo studio had been freshly renovated—bright and modern. Manager Zhang greeted them, smiling despite his age. “Boss Bi hasn’t come to support me in ages. The last time you had photos taken was when Yan Qin was a hundred days old. I took pictures of mother and daughter then, but you were busy entertaining guests and didn’t get a family photo!”

Bi Qingtang joked, “True, I thought there’d be plenty of chances ahead. Then we got busy—me with business, her with studies—and never got around to it. Later, I wanted to ask, but she got so proud I feared she’d refuse, and I’d lose face, so I never dared.”

Manager Zhang laughed, unsure how to respond. After seating them on the studio sofa, he adjusted the lighting. Before the photo, Yan Qin, thrilled, nestled in her mother’s arms and whispered, “Mom, after the photo, can you teach me to paint?”

Bi Qingtang coaxed, “Nan Nan, no. Mom’s tired. If she teaches you, it’ll be too late by the time we get home.”

Yan Qin’s bright eyes sparkled as she made a decision for the adults. “Then let’s not go home. Mom can live with us!”

Though young and well-protected by Bi Qingtang, Yan Qin was clever and sensitive. Over the past six months, she had sensed her parents’ relationship gradually improving. Her words were both a test and an expression of her own impatience.

Bi Qingtang said nothing, casting a troubled glance at Tan Yang. She smoothed Yan Qin’s bangs gently and said softly, “Sweetheart, Mom can’t live at home yet. I still have work to do that can’t be done at home, so I have to live in the apartment.”

Yan Qin asked, hurt, “When will your work be finished, Mom?”

Tan Yang’s heart twisted; she didn’t know how to answer. Bi Qingtang quickly stepped in, “Very soon, Nan Nan, very soon!”

Hearing this, Yan Qin frowned and cried, “You always say Mom will come back soon, but it’s been so long, and she still hasn’t!”

Seeing their daughter’s pitiful tears, Tan Yang’s chest tightened. She leaned against the sofa back, planning to teach Yan Qin painting tonight, then play with her before leaving after the child fell asleep. Though tiring, she thought she could manage.

Just as she opened her mouth, Bi Qingtang leaned close to whisper in Yan Qin’s ear. After he spoke, Yan Qin nodded, half understanding. “Okay, then.” She nestled into her father’s arms, pouted, and wiped her own tears—so obedient and mature. Then, seriously, she asked, “Do I look like a big sister now?”

Hearing this, Tan Yang and Bi Qingtang exchanged knowing smiles. Manager Zhang adjusted the lights and called out from behind the camera, “Alright, everyone look at me. One, two...” As he counted, Bi Qingtang gently wrapped an arm around Tan Yang’s shoulder, smiling toward the camera.

At that moment, with a soft “click,” the tender smile of the wife, the contented grin of the husband, and the weary yet lively face of their daughter—captured in one frame—were forever frozen in time.