TYSUF – Chapter 10 Lost in the Play (4)

Fu Tongwen reached for her long hair, removing the silk ribbon that held it in place. It was his first time doing such a thing, inexperienced as he was, and he accidentally pulled out two strands of her hair. The ribbon was placed on the table, its jade pendant knocking against the pocket watch’s glass face with a crisp sound.

He thought the noise might wake her, but she had already fallen into a deep sleep.

That night, his answer of “many” transformed into countless visions in her dreams.

She saw a younger Fu Tongwen sitting upright in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, placing a gun on the table while instructing someone to carry out a kill. She also saw him walking past a dilapidated residence, the ground littered with corpses. These visions played out like scenes from a theatrical performance.

His face remained obscured, visible only in silhouette.

At last, she followed his figure and saw him speaking to an official dressed in the attire of the previous dynasty, his queue still intact.

“The ministers of this court—unable to guide the ruler from above, unwilling to serve the people from below—are nothing but parasites feasting on their positions.”

Upon hearing these words, she sensed that something was off.

This was a dream. These were lines from the books she had memorized in childhood. They shouldn’t have been his words…

She turned to leave. As she stepped over the threshold of the main gate—measuring precisely three inches and six-tenths in height—it suddenly rose by another three inches, causing her to trip.

The fall sent pain coursing through her body, and she woke up.

She found herself entangled in a thick cotton quilt.

Shen Xi tried to turn over but felt that the other end of the quilt was pinned down by something. She opened her eyes, her sweat-dampened lashes sticking together, blurring her vision.

As she adjusted to the darkness, she saw a pillow propped upright against the headboard, elevating Fu Tongwen’s head. He was still fully dressed in his shirt and trousers, even wearing his leather shoes. The only concession he had made was pulling the quilt over himself.

He had likely changed into clean clothes but had nowhere else to go, so he had ended up resting here.

Because she had tugged the quilt earlier, it had slipped down, leaving only a small corner draped over his chest. He seemed to feel cold, his brow furrowing slightly in his sleep.

That expression—as if he were about to chastise her in the next breath.

Shen Xi shifted and pulled the quilt back over him.

The trace of irritation on his refined face dissipated.

He slept. She watched.

His breathing still sounded slightly strained.

Quietly, Shen Xi climbed out of bed, found a stethoscope in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe, and barefooted, she returned to bed. She put on the stethoscope and carefully pressed the diaphragm against his shirt. Her fingers brushed against the fabric, feeling the warmth of his body through the material.

The rhythmic beating of his heart traveled through the stethoscope and crashed into her eardrums.

In the stillness of the room, the only sound was his heartbeat.

His heartbeat.

A hand suddenly reached out and pulled her stethoscope away just in time.

“It’s a blockage in the coronary artery,” he murmured.

Shen Xi lifted her gaze and met his eyes.

Coronary occlusion.

She recalled a recent article in a medical journal—the term seemed to be translated that way.

The study of cardiology had its roots in Europe, with the most prestigious academic journals published in France and Germany. It was only in the last two years that English-language journals had emerged. Every time she and her classmates managed to obtain one, they treated it as a treasure. They hadn’t read many, but they remembered every word.

“Were you born this way?” she asked.

Fu Tongwen smiled and shook his head.

She had no more questions to ask.

If cardiac surgery was an untouched desert, then internal medicine was a tiny oasis within it—small, fragile, and still surrounded by vast unknowns. Fu Tongwen’s symptoms last night closely resembled what their professor had once described: acute myocardial infarction caused by coronary artery occlusion. Regarding this condition, the professor had optimistically declared that within at most thirty years, an effective treatment would be found.

Thirty years… Who knew what year or month that would be?

She lowered her head and put away the stethoscope. “Do you feel unwell now?”

“I’m fine,” Fu Tongwen adjusted his position, shifting from lying on his side to leaning against the headboard. “Are you feeling better?”

Shen Xi nodded. “At the opium den, I had to carry bodies every day. You don’t need to worry too much about me.”

Someone who had survived the massacre of her family could hardly be considered fragile.

The real hurdle was always psychological. But from the moment she heard his heartbeat, she realized she had already let go of everything else. What she cared about was that Fu Tongwen was alive, that she believed in him, in his righteousness, and in his goodness. Nothing else mattered anymore.

A quiet stillness settled between them.

“Let’s talk about something random,” he suggested.

“Mm.” She waited for him to speak.

A moment later, they both chuckled.

“Were you waiting for me to start?” Fu Tongwen teased. “Do you have nothing to say to Third Brother?”

Shen Xi shook her head and sat at the edge of the bed, her bare feet resting against the floorboards.

“Come up,” he said abruptly.

Shen Xi hesitated but understood what he meant. She lifted the quilt slightly and, following his lead, propped a pillow against the headboard and slipped under the same cotton blanket. The residual warmth inside quickly warmed her feet.

Unlike when they had been asleep before, now they were both conscious and fully aware of sharing the same bed.

She suspected that if Fu Tongwen made even the slightest movement, she might suffer an acute heart attack herself.

Would this be how things were every night from now on? Her face burned. Thankfully, the dim light concealed her blush.

“There’s a new quilt in the wardrobe,” Fu Tongwen said softly, almost apologetically. “I wasn’t feeling well last night and didn’t want to move. I’ll bring it out tonight.”

“Mm.” She agreed.

They both tacitly accepted the arrangement—sharing a bed from now on.

Even if he had refused, after witnessing his condition last night, she wouldn’t have dared let him sleep on the floor.

“One more small thing,” he said with a smile. “On the ship, you might have to endure being ‘Mrs. Fu’ for a while.”

Shen Xi stared at the corner of the quilt and hummed a soft acknowledgment.

“I am, after all, a rather proper man,” Fu Tongwen chuckled at his own words. “This is just a matter of necessity. I hope you understand.”

Did he think she was afraid of misunderstandings?

Did he not realize that back when she lived in the Fu household, to everyone there, she had already been misunderstood in this way?

Two people. One quilt. And nothing left to say.

When she was young, her mother and father would sit together just like this, chatting idly. Her father would hold her mother’s hand, gently playing with each of her fingers, murmuring softly. Back then, she didn’t understand that to be “husband and wife” meant to share the same bed—that it was a fate forged over a thousand lifetimes.

Her gaze drifted downward, landing on her hands.

Her fingers rested lightly against her abdomen, while his hand lay beside him. A mere three inches apart.

The pocket watch ticked.

Shen Xi recalled what Gu Yiren had said about Fu Tongwen’s three failed engagements.

The first was to a Manchu princess during the Guangxu era. The wedding was set to take place, but when Fourth Master passed away that year, Fu Tongwen inexplicably broke off the engagement as well.

The second was with a well-educated young lady, but by some twist of fate, she and Second Master fell for each other instead. Fu Tongwen, wanting to see his brother happy, voluntarily withdrew from the engagement.

The last fiancée was the one he had known the longest. They had grown up together as childhood sweethearts. She was fluent in French, and they understood each other better than anyone. But the young woman longed for a life overseas, while his aspirations remained tied to China. She had once tried to use their engagement as leverage, demanding that he leave China with her. In the end, he gently refused. Tears in her eyes, she bid him farewell, and their engagement was formally annulled.

“This is what Mr. Tan told me,” Gu Yiren had said, shuffling a few playing cards in his hand and mimicking Tan’s storytelling with vivid enthusiasm. “Third Master told Mr. Tan that two people with fundamentally different ideals are nothing more than strangers in spirit. That kind of relationship—it’s not love.”

Gu Yiren had glanced at his winning hand of cards and chuckled. “Dr. Tan also said that every time Third Master called off an engagement, he believed that losing one thing meant gaining another. But after three losses, where exactly is that gain?”

At the time, Shen Xi hadn’t yet realized that Wan Feng had feelings for Fu Tongwen.

She had simply been full of curiosity, still pressing Gu Yiren with questions. “Those were all formal engagements—what about his other admirers?”

Whenever men talked about such things, they always put on an air of mystery. Gu Yiren was no exception. “Now, that’s not something I can tell you,” he had said, sounding as if he were the main character of the story instead.

The light switch was within reach of both of them.

She had her own reasons for not turning on the light. What about him?

“Your childhood name was Yangyang?” Fu Tongwen suddenly asked.

“Mm.” If he already knew she was from the Shen family, then of course he knew her real name.

“‘Following the stream, I search for her; there she is, in the midst of the water.’ Shen Wanyang,” he said, his words mirroring her thoughts. “You later changed it yourself.”

She replied softly, “I thought… I needed something to remind myself. Something to keep me grounded.” Her voice was gentle, but her resolve was firm.

She had chosen the name Shen Xi when she escaped.

Xi, meaning “slave”—a bondswoman. She had wanted to remember the Shen family forever.

Fu Tongwen’s dark eyes fixed on her.

She assumed he was worried she was still dwelling on the past, so she added, “Don’t worry, Third Brother. The dynasty has changed. I’ve already let go.”

He was silent for a moment before replying, “That’s good.”

At that, Fu Tongwen seemed unwilling to continue the conversation.

He stretched his arms, easing the stiffness in his shoulder after lying on his side all night. Then, in one smooth motion, he got out of bed—light and effortless, as if he resented his own body’s frailty and longed to return to his youthful strength.

He pulled open the curtains.

Dawn had not yet arrived.

Beyond the glass, misty clouds cradled the moon.

The moon over the sea was bright—far larger than the one seen from an apartment window. He didn’t know why. But the brightest moon he had ever seen was in Guangzhou.

“The moon shines brightest over one’s homeland.” The ancients had not lied.

Shen Xi watched his silhouette, absentmindedly calculating how long the journey to and from Guangzhou would take.

She wanted to return, just to see it again.

As she did the math, another thought struck her. If I return to China… will I ever see him again?

“Do you still keep in touch with the people you once supported?” she asked, indirectly probing.

Fu Tongwen leaned a hand against the windowpane, thinking. “Occasionally, I receive letters. But I rarely get to see them again.”

So that’s how it was. She rested her head against the bed’s headboard and said nothing.

Fu Tongwen was still exhausted. After pacing by the window for a short while, he returned to bed.

This time, he lay with his back facing Shen Xi.

Shen Xi dressed herself, opened the door, and asked the butler for hot water. She made herself a cup of morning tea in the living room, and just as she set down the teapot, Dr. Tan arrived.

Seeing that Shen Xi had recovered completely, he was surprised—though more than that, he was impressed. With a warm smile, he said softly, “I specifically brought some morphine, worried that you wouldn’t be feeling well. I thought I’d give you an injection.”

Shen Xi shook her head, signaling for him not to discuss it here. She picked up the teapot and gestured for Dr. Tan to bring an empty cup. Together, they went to the private deck.

The sky was on the verge of dawn but still dark. The warm tea soothed their stomachs, and with that, Dr. Tan seemed more at ease—he became talkative.

He was a humorous man, though he had never shown that side of himself to Shen Xi before.

Perhaps it was only after last night that he truly accepted her as a companion on this journey. The two of them cared about the same person, the same matter, and so the conversation flowed easily.

“When we were in London for that week, I met many old classmates and former professors,” Dr. Tan said. “One of my professors has been researching this field for years. I’ll show you his papers later. Five years ago, he observed five patients with myocardial infarctions and wrote a report. Acute heart attacks are easily triggered by overwork and emotional agitation.”

He finished speaking and gulped down a cup of hot tea, hissing at the heat yet continuing, “He mustn’t get worked up. He absolutely cannot be agitated.”

Shen Xi silently committed this to memory.

“Fu Tongchuan…” Dr. Tan sighed. “He and I were classmates. We both studied cardiology.”

“Was it for Third Brother?”

Dr. Tan nodded. “Unfortunately, whether in internal medicine or surgery, our advancements came too late.”

This was also what troubled Shen Xi the most.

“Tongchuan…” Dr. Tan hesitated.

Shen Xi stared at him. She knew that whatever he was about to say next was crucial.

“Back then, Third Master once supported the reformists.”

Shen Xi was stunned. She had thought he was merely devoted to industry…

“They wanted him to stop, so they kidnapped Tongchuan. They injected him with morphine and opium. It lasted about six months. By the time he was released, he was a broken man.” Dr. Tan took off his glasses, set them on the low table, and sipped his tea. “When Tongchuan returned to China, he dedicated himself to studying ways to help people quit opium. But his body was addicted, and psychologically, he couldn’t bear it. In the end, he shot himself.”

Dr. Tan glanced at her. “Did you see the gun he carries? That’s the one.”

The one beneath the pillow.

She had speculated about Fourth Master’s death before, but none of her guesses had come close to this truth.

She had heard his name for so long that he had felt like someone she knew. Hearing this now, a deep sorrow welled up inside her.

For someone who had devoted himself to helping others break free from opium, this was the cruelest torment. It was not just the suffering of the body—it was the destruction of his ideals, his will.

Shen Xi took a deep breath, yet the heaviness in her chest did not subside.

After a while, Dr. Tan spoke again. “He was the kind of person who would do whatever it took to accomplish what he set out to do. But to involve him with opium? Never.”

Shen Xi nodded. “About Third Master’s health, is there anything else you need to tell me?”

“Let me think.”

Just as Dr. Tan set down his teacup, Fu Tongwen walked in. He had changed clothes and was carrying a gray suit jacket over his arm, moving with ease. “Are you two treating me like a lab rabbit?” He laughed and tossed the jacket onto Dr. Tan’s head.

Dr. Tan’s glasses slipped down, and he laughed in exasperation. “You’re an outsider to this field. Just because you know what a lab rabbit is doesn’t mean you can pretend to be an expert.”

The two men joked with each other, as if all the weight from last night had dissipated.

How much had they endured over the years to be able to joke like this now?

Shen Xi saw Fu Tongwen and suddenly thought of how they had shared a bed in the second half of the night. In the bright daylight, a trace of embarrassment crept into her heart.

Sure enough, night and day changed a person’s courage.

She lifted the teapot, gave Fu Tongwen a small nod, and hurriedly excused herself. “I’m going to get more water.”

Fu Tongwen watched her retreating figure and couldn’t help but smile.

That day, had she dared to turn back,

She would have seen—

That his eyes already carried the shadow of her presence.