Chapter 99 (97) Longing for Home

On a winter evening, Bi Qingtang stepped out of the department store. At the entrance, a ragged woman crouched by the steps, clutching a child wrapped in tattered cloth, begging. Her skeletal hand, as thin as a withered branch, stretched out toward Bi Qingtang. “Sir, please have mercy on us. We have no money; we can’t survive without help!” As Bi Qingtang glanced sideways, Manager Liu, who had accompanied him out, quickly signaled his subordinates. They hurriedly dragged the woman away, cursing under their breath, “Is that crazy woman blind? Begging anywhere she pleases!”

The woman was roughly pulled, causing the child in her arms to wail loudly. Bi Qingtang’s patience waned; he frowned and said, “Enough, enough.” Stepping forward, he caught sight of the child, not yet a year old, with a face pale and purple from the cold. Without much thought, as if moved by some unseen impulse, he pulled out his wallet and tossed a stack of bills to the woman. Stunned by the amount, she froze. Manager Liu urged her, “What are you waiting for? Thank our boss quickly!” Hearing this, the woman clutched the child tightly and bowed repeatedly, “Thank you, boss, thank you…”

Bi Qingtang did not look back and strode toward the car. The driver, Old Li, standing by the door, wore a smile of unclear meaning. Bi Qingtang shot him a questioning look. “What is it?” Old Li pondered for a moment, then opened the door and smiled. “You used to laugh when your wife did such things.” Bi Qingtang gave a helpless chuckle and muttered to himself, “It’s not about the adults—it’s the children I can’t bear to see suffering.”

While they spoke, Manager Liu directed staff to load two stacks of gift boxes into the car. He then pointed at the boxes and explained carefully, “These are quilts for all seasons, thick and thin, two each as per the boss’s request, prepared in styles for both boys and girls, all freshly shipped from America!” Bi Qingtang casually lifted the lid of one box, revealing a powder-pink duck down quilt, soft and thick, the corners embroidered with the word “seetie” in flowing letters of creamy yellow thread. He pulled out the quilt, handed it to Liu, and gestured subtly toward the woman before lowering his head and entering the car. As the vehicle departed, the woman, wrapping her child tightly in the duck down quilt, shouted excitedly after the car, “Boss Bi, kindness will be repaid!”

Hearing this, Bi Qingtang lit a cigarette, drooping his eyes with displeasure. “I hate those words the most in this life, especially the second half.” Old Li dared not respond. After a long pause, unexpectedly, Bi Qingtang asked, “Where do the Bodhisattvas show their power, Old Li? Do you know?” “Boss, what do you mean?” Though he heard clearly, Old Li asked again in disbelief.

On a cold but sunny winter morning, when Tan Yang opened the door, she saw Bi Qingtang waiting outside. “It’s freezing; you don’t have to come every time. Just call a car to send me,” Tan Yang said softly. He seemed not to hear and asked, “Did you sleep well last night?” She nodded, and as she descended the steps, he quickly steadied her. Tan Yang sighed in resignation, “I’m not that fragile yet; you don’t have to be so careful!” Bi Qingtang corrected her seriously, “Better safe than sorry.”

“Did you eat breakfast?” “Yes.” “Porridge or noodles?” Tan Yang smiled faintly without replying. Bi Qingtang looked at her and said quietly, “Before I left for Shanghai, Aunt Wu asked me to find work for her son and daughter-in-law there. I think we should let them come—help with cooking and chores, so there’s always someone looking after you.” “Maybe later. I’m still fine on my own,” she replied. He sighed deeply. “Every morning when I wake and pick up my bowl, I worry about whether you’ve eaten and what you’ve had. I remember when you were pregnant with our daughter, you’d ask for fish every morning—fried, steamed, boiled, or grilled. The cook would be waiting at the stove in the dark for your orders, and even then, you’d say it was slow!”

At the hospital, before getting out of the car, Bi Qingtang handed her a metal insulated lunchbox. “Little sister, I’ll be going to Hangzhou for a few days.” “Is it business?” He shook his head, smiling mysteriously, and gave her a meaningful glance but said nothing. Tan Yang placed the lunchbox on her desk and lifted the lid. Inside were two compartments holding steamed sea bass and pan-fried yellow croaker, with crucian carp soup beneath.

About ten years ago, when the daughter was still in her womb, Tan Yang, sipping her fish soup, coquettishly said to Bi Qingtang, who was tying his tie to go out, “Whatever I want, it’s always on the table in a blink. Big brother, isn’t this life just unbearably comfortable?” “Women are allowed to be delicate when carrying their first child,” he answered firmly. Tan Yang laughed, covering her mouth, and teased, “Only the first time? Then if I have more children, I guess I won’t be treated like this again!” Bi Qingtang raised his eyebrows with a mischievous smile. “Then after the first, have another quickly and you’ll find out.” Tan Yang frowned and lightly spat at him. Just before leaving, he turned back and said, “When you’re carrying our child, whatever you ask for is fine, no matter the trouble. What I fear most is if you stop asking—that would really scare me.”

Winter’s grip had settled on West Lake in Hangzhou. Gone were the willows along the embankment, the birdsong replaced by a gray sky. Mists rose from the lake’s surface like faint smoke, and the bare willow branches swayed like ripples in the haze—a different kind of beauty, one tinged with Zen tranquility.

Bi Qingtang had been to Hangzhou many times on business, but this was his first visit to Lingyin Temple on the lake’s west shore. A life untouched by Buddha’s path, he never entered temples before, yet here, amid the two peaks embracing the ethereal ancient shrine, with the sound of woodblocks and chanting echoing softly, he held his black felt hat and gazed up at the solemn, towering Buddha statue. In that instant, the hard, stubborn man who had taken countless lives felt a yearning for home.

Before the gods he had long scorned, he was uneasy. At this moment, he genuinely wished for protection, for blessing.

Before dawn the next day, Bi Qingtang set out to return. Sitting in the car, he carefully took from his chest pocket a red felt-wrapped talisman for safety—a charm for the peace of the mother and child. His heart had never been so calm and clear. He would personally place it on her, then confess all without hiding, bearing every sin he owed.

He believed that heaven and Buddha had granted him this hope, and he must seize it to seek her forgiveness. Knowing her well, he was confident his wish would be fulfilled.

That very morning, just past nine o’clock, the clinic was full of patients—children especially prone to illness this season. Tan Yang’s consulting room was crowded with sick children and their families. Outside, a Japanese jeep was parked at the hospital gate. Soon, Lin Zhiju came in, announcing another batch of Japanese wounded had been brought to Shanghai, with Japanese doctors coming to treat them. Tan Yang looked at the crowd and hesitated. “I have many patients now. Tell them to wait a few minutes; I’ll come as soon as I finish here.”

Quickly examining the children, she sent the severe cases to nearby hospitals and prescribed medicine for the milder ones, asking families to buy it themselves. Ten minutes passed, and a Japanese soldier appeared once to urge her. When he returned the second time, his face darkened. Tan Yang hurriedly finished and, donning her coat, followed him out.

Due to her condition, she moved slowly and carefully down the stairs, supported by her hand. The mustachioed Japanese soldier glared at her fiercely. On the first floor lobby, a disheveled woman rushed in, carrying a two or three-year-old child. She cried out frantically, “Doctor! Doctor! Please save my son!” Others in the hall kindly urged her to go to another hospital—the doctors here had all been taken by the Japanese. The woman stood dumbfounded, her child gasping desperately.

Hearing the sound, Tan Yang stepped forward. Looking at the child’s blue, suffocating face, she said urgently, “This is laryngeal edema! Put the child down! I’ll get the surgical tools upstairs!” She turned to leave, but the Japanese soldier blocked her. She pointed at the child and then upstairs, shouting, “This child can’t wait; without a tracheotomy, he’ll suffocate! I’ll be back in minutes!” The soldier stared at her, furious but silent. Seeing the child’s flared nostrils, she had no time to wait. She dodged him and ran upstairs.

The soldier hesitated, then roared and drew his knife, chasing after her. Tan Yang ran as fast as she could, but as she neared the second floor, the soldier caught up and slashed her back. To his surprise, she didn’t stop. Furious, he grabbed her hair roughly, pulling her down the stairs. She fell hard to the floor.

Outside, Liu Fazu and others, waiting in the car, sensed something was wrong and hurried back. Amid Lin Zhiju’s terrified cries, Tan Yang, barely conscious, forced her eyes open. A sharp pain gripped her abdomen with spasms; blood flowed freely, staining her pale green qipao. Nearby, a woman wailed hysterically over the lifeless child in her arms. “My child! My life!”

At that moment, Bi Qingtang’s car was just arriving in Shanghai’s outskirts, his heart full of hope.

As evening fell, the blood-red sunset stained the clouds like flames. The red light streamed through the corridor’s glass windows, casting eerie, grotesque hues on everything. Bi Qingtang stood beneath the window, towering like a mountain—yet a solitary mountain, lonely and fallen. His gaze fixed unblinking on the wooden door of the operating room. When it opened, a nurse emerged. Bi Qingtang rushed forward, voice trembling, “How? How is it?” The nurse instinctively clutched the metal box she carried, shook her head, and whispered pitifully, “The child didn’t make it.”

She lowered her head and walked away. After a few steps, Lin Zhiju, who had just left the operating room, saw the scene and shouted in alarm, “No! Don’t let him see!” But it was too late. Bi Qingtang had already looked into the box and seen the formed fetus. His eyes turned bloodshot, his jaw trembled with breath, and he let out a despairing roar, filled with the pain of flesh and bones being torn away. He staggered backward and struck his head against the wall with a loud thud.

Lin Zhiju rushed to steady him, lowering her voice, “Boss Bi, you can’t do this. Yangyang is inside and can hear you!” She paused, then added slowly, “Losing a child at this stage is hard for any mother, but for her, the grief is like losing her own life—that’s rare.”

The corridor fell silent. From the half-open door of the operating room came Tan Yang’s soft, intermittent sobs—so weak and hopeless. Lin Zhiju sighed heavily. Tears welled in Bi Qingtang’s bloodshot eyes as he pulled a red paper package from his chest and shakily placed it in the metal box the nurse held. He muttered desperately, “You don’t know, you don’t know what this child meant to us…”

From then until nightfall, Bi Qingtang tried several times to enter and see Tan Yang. Yet, just reaching for the door, he was overcome with a piercing, bone-deep pain that left him breathless. He was too afraid to proceed. When all hope was lost, and they shared the agony of losing their flesh and blood, he did not know how to face her. He feared losing control of his pain, only to have her, weak and frail, comfort him instead.

Late at night, sitting stiff and motionless in the dark, cold hospital corridor, he was like a walking corpse, lifeless and hollow.

At midnight, Lin Zhiju emerged from the ward and told Bi Qingtang, “Yangyang was crying, unable to sleep. I was worried for her health, so I gave her an injection. She’s sleeping now. You should go see her; I know you’re worried.” Bi Qingtang closed his eyes briefly, nodded, and slowly pushed open the door.

Inside, a dim lamp cast a faint glow. Tan Yang lay face down on the pillow, long hair spread over her face. She lay on her side with a low pillow beneath her. Bi Qingtang looked at Lin Zhiju, puzzled. She explained, “The Japanese soldier slashed her from behind. The wound isn’t deep, but she can’t lie flat. And she’s just had a miscarriage. If it weren’t for Liu Fazu arriving in time, who knows what would have happened!”

A fierce flame suddenly surged in Bi Qingtang’s despairing eyes. Clenching his fists, he glanced at Lin Zhiju, then turned away without a word. Lin Zhiju followed, puzzled, “Boss Bi, aren’t you staying with Yangyang?” He gasped, teeth clenched, “Where’s the child? Give it to me! No matter how small, it’s still a life! I have to give it a proper burial!”

The next afternoon, after Liu Fazu changed the dressing on Tan Yang’s back wound and spoke some comforting words, it was unclear how much she absorbed. Suddenly, she asked incoherently, “Where is he?” Liu Fazu paused, then answered, “He sat outside all day yesterday. Zhiju said he came to see you after you fell asleep last night before leaving.” He thought for a moment and added, “I guess he’ll come soon.” Tan Yang shook her head, sobbing, “Go find him! Please!” Liu Fazu frowned deeply, and in a flash, he understood her meaning. He tossed his forceps onto the table, sprang up, and hurried downstairs without even removing his white coat.

Arriving at the Bi residence, Liu Fazu was relieved to hear Bi Qingtang was home. After a long wait, someone opened the door. Stepping into the spacious hall, Liu Fazu gasped. On the floor, three or four young men were laying out rifles from large wooden crates, each with seven or eight boxes of ammunition beside them—nearly a hundred guns in total.

Approaching, Liu Fazu heard Bi Qingtang speaking loudly on the phone from the staircase. “Tell your men, I’m giving three gold bars to each. Those not afraid to die, come to me! Yes! Young, strong, and skilled with guns!” After hanging up and flipping through the phonebook, he was about to dial again when Liu Fazu stopped him. “What are you doing?” Bi Qingtang glanced coldly at him. “Can’t you see?”

Liu Fazu looked at the rifles scattered on the floor. “Are you going for revenge? Or is this a rash act, throwing your life away pointlessly?” “I’m going to finish off those fucking Japanese bastards!” “Tens of thousands of Chinese soldiers couldn’t hold Shanghai! You think a few dozen or a hundred men can kill all the Japanese there? You’re delusional, like a stone smashing an egg!” “One at a time! For a year, I let them shit and piss on my head, but did peace come? I couldn’t even protect my wife and child! I’m not some limp rag. Those who hurt me will pay tenfold!” He paused and stared hard at Liu Fazu. “Besides, it was my little sister they hurt!”

Liu Fazu was speechless. The phone rang, and Bi Qingtang seized the receiver, commanding, “Come to the Bi residence at six. I’ll treat the brothers to a good meal. Tonight, when it gets dark, we go!” Liu Fazu paced anxiously, mind racing. After Bi Qingtang hung up, he approached and pleaded sincerely, “Boss Bi, I heard from Xiang Ning that Yangyang calls you ‘big brother.’ For an orphan like her, you’re not only her husband but her only support and hope. Losing the child has left her in tears constantly. How do you think she’ll be if she loses you too?”

Bi Qingtang stood motionless, pondering before replying slowly, “Because she sees me that way, I cannot fail her. If it means dying for revenge to save her and the child’s pain and keep us together, then it’s worth it.” Seeing his determination, Liu Fazu despaired. After pacing, he left silently, footsteps hurried.

At dusk, when Liu Fazu returned to the Bi residence, thirty to forty men had gathered in the hall. Bi Qingtang, cleaning his rifle in the study, saw him and snapped impatiently, “Why are you still here?” “Yangyang wants to see you.” Bi Qingtang’s hands froze. “If I’m back by tomorrow morning, I’ll see her.” Liu Fazu sighed softly, “She’s outside in the car, waiting for you, even though she’s in such condition.”

Startled, Bi Qingtang rushed out.

Leaning against Lin Zhiju’s shoulder in the car by the gate, Tan Yang saw Bi Qingtang from afar and weakly stretched out her hand. He stumbled forward, tightly grasping her hand, trying to speak but failing. Her face was pale as paper, tears streaming down. Seeing her so, his heart broke. Though he wanted to scold her, his voice trembled with tears, “Do you know what condition you’re in? Running out in this cold will cause lasting illness and suffering. I can’t protect you then!”

Feeling the cold wind rush into the car, he slammed the door and pulled Tan Yang close. His hand accidentally pressed on her wounded back, and she shivered in pain. He froze, then burst into furious curses, “Those sons of bitches! Unless I spill their blood, I’m not Bi!”

Tan Yang shook her head quietly, leaning on him and whispering, “I know how you are—the anger you hold is harder to bear than death. But I also know that having me by your side is the hardest thing for you this life. Can you try, for me and for our daughter, to face an even harder challenge—don’t recklessly throw your life away? Revenge isn’t the only path. If you trade life for life, think—if you die, the first to suffer will be me!”

Sobbing, she clung to his neck, whispering, “Because of the sudden death of loved ones, my first fifteen years of happiness now seem a great tragedy. But you don’t know, those fifteen years with you were not just happy—they were blissful. Even with all that happened later, even with the hatred in my heart, I have no regrets or sorrow for those years. That’s because you were there, alive, by my side. Please pity me; don’t let me endure two such tragic fifteen years. I can’t bear to be abandoned and separated by life and death again.”

Her words moved Lin Zhiju to tears. Bi Qingtang held Tan Yang tightly and wept uncontrollably. After a long while, Bi Qingtang looked up and saw Yan Qin standing on the second-floor terrace of the residence. She wore thin clothes, barefoot, leaning on the stone railing, looking down pitifully.

Gently stroking his wife’s slender shoulders, he sighed. Such a fragile, delicate wife and daughter—bearing the weight of a mountain or the vast sea was nothing to him. In these perilous times, love and loyalty mattered, but surviving together mattered more. As long as he had breath, he could still see them both—and that was enough.