TYSUF – Chapter 13 The Moon Rises with the Tide (3)

That earlier moment—was it a hand-kissing gesture, or… something else?

She couldn’t tell.

This version of Fu Tongwen reminded her of a story about cigarettes.

In Beijing, everyone knew about the Eight Hutongs in Dashilan. Even at the opium den, she had heard the old rhyme:

“The Eight Hutongs, famed through time,
Shaanxi Baishun, Stonetown’s shine,
Melodies mix by Han Family Pond,
Bright lanterns light up Wang Guang Street…”

The protagonist of that story was the man standing before her, and the setting was Han Family Pond, one of those famed Eight Hutongs.

One night, in this land of fleeting pleasures, several renowned young masters gathered in a contest over the town’s most celebrated courtesan. They flung their silver coins at her feet, vying for her favor.

Among them, only Fu Tongwen merely asked a servant for a cigarette before entering the courtesan’s chamber.

And that alone was enough to make the beauty’s heart waver.

A cigarette, a seductive pun.

Had it been any ordinary woman, it would have been a frivolous act.

But in a place of indulgence, it was the epitome of charm and elegance.

The courtesan accepted the cigarette, yet Fu Tongwen insisted that fortune should not be his alone. Having stolen the spotlight, he naturally had to yield the beauty to his friends. He left behind a check and walked away, thus creating a legendary tale.

This was the kind of man Fu Tongwen was—whenever he wished, his every move could pierce straight into the soul.

And now, that very man was right in front of her.

“What were you going to say just now?” he asked.

“I wanted to say… thanks to your generosity back then, funding my education, I was able to study. Otherwise, I’d be making a fool of myself today.”

Fu Tongwen chuckled, leaning against the doorframe.

He showed no intention of letting go of her, much like that time in the dressing room. After instructing her on how to handle Dr. Tan, she had tried to leave, but his hand on her waist had stopped her.

Back then, she thought he might do something. But he didn’t—he simply held her.

Now was the same—

Fu Tongwen took her hand in his, turning it over to study her palm. His thumb traced over the delicate lines, rubbing against her skin. His fingers grew warmer, and so did she.

It was as if a tiny water clock had been placed before them, each droplet falling with a gentle chime, landing directly on the tip of her heart.

“We should take a walk,” he said.

Shen Xi agreed, but he didn’t move.

A rational man, doing something reckless. He held a virtuous girl’s hand, rubbing it, clasping it, even kissing it—yet he knew exactly what he was doing.

“You should be the one taking a walk instead,” he murmured. “If this keeps up, something’s going to happen.”

He said it so plainly, with a teasing smile, and just like that, the fragile walls of her heart collapsed. His gaze trapped her until, at last, he let go.

By the time she collected herself, Fu Tongwen had already left the room.

Alone in the empty space, she stood still, replaying his words and expressions, wondering how much of it had been real and how much had been an act.

At six o’clock, he finally returned.

He must have been on the deck—his suit carried the chill of the evening, though his face still bore a faint smile.

Fu Tongwen had reserved a table for dinner and told her to get ready so they could head downstairs to find Tan Qingxiang. His demeanor made it seem as if nothing had happened before he left.

Shen Xi agreed, changed in the washroom, and let her loose hair fall over her shoulders. She started braiding one side, watching herself in the mirror.

Perhaps that really had been just a hand-kiss after all… maybe she had misunderstood.

“Third Brother, let me know when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” he said.

Shen Xi continued braiding her hair with practiced ease, not even needing the mirror.

She stepped out of the washroom and into the bedroom, still weaving the braid absentmindedly. Fu Tongwen, in the middle of tying his tie, paused at the sight.

“Come here, let me see.”

Her face heated, but she didn’t move. They were only a few steps apart—what was the point of going over?

Fu Tongwen straightened his tie and took two steps forward. “Let me try.”

Try what?

He lifted the unbraided side of her hair from her right shoulder.

“How do you do it?” he asked.

“Like this… separate it into three sections.” She showed him the strands between her fingers.

Awkwardly, he mimicked her actions, dividing the strands and, under her guidance, attempted to weave them together. Stray locks brushed against her cheeks and collarbone, sending tiny shivers through her.

Shen Xi wasn’t sure how she managed to finish braiding at all—her entire attention was on him.

She glanced at him. He was smiling. “It’s a bit rough, but with practice, I’ll get better.”

Reaching the end, he lifted the braid for her to see. “Done.”

“I’ll tie it.” She took it from him and secured it.

This afternoon, he had left, saying he was afraid things would get out of hand. But now—was this any different?

“I have something to say,” Fu Tongwen looked straight into her thoughts. “Let’s talk about it when we get back tonight, alright?”

She nodded, seeing his smile.

Their tangled relationship was already a mess—sorting it out in a hurry wouldn’t do any good.

Though there were words left unspoken, something between them had already shifted.

Before leaving the room, Fu Tongwen decided his tie wasn’t quite right and pulled out another one, handing it to Shen Xi. It was a real challenge for her—she didn’t know how.

So he taught her, step by step, just as she had taught him to braid a woman’s hair.

She fumbled through it, and by the time she finished, he was already standing in the hallway, commenting, “Looks like you’ll need more practice too.”

They spoke in their native tongue, which the bodyguard couldn’t understand. But seeing Shen Xi’s flushed face, he guessed the gentleman was flirting with his lady.

When they reached the first-class cabins, Fu Tongwen knocked on a door.

A moment later, Tan Qingxiang opened it. Usually so proper, he was oddly unkempt—no tie, hair slightly disheveled. Something was off.

“You brought a guest? Is that alright?” he asked Fu Tongwen.

“That depends on you. It’s just one more seat.”

There was movement inside the room—someone was there.

Shen Xi’s heart jolted as her gaze instinctively drifted toward the door gap. She caught sight of a girl’s bare back—no clothes.

Her eyes widened.

“Miss Shen, could you restrain your curiosity a little?” Tan Qingxiang chuckled.

“I was just worried about your safety,” she muttered, her eyes clearly saying, I misjudged you.

Tan Qingxiang laughed and lightly tapped her forehead—a silent mind your own business.

“You two go ahead. I’ll be there soon.” He shut the door again.

Shen Xi stared at it, feeling a mix of emotions. Then she glanced at Fu Tongwen, who seemed utterly unfazed.

Was this kind of fleeting affair normal to them?

She never got the chance to ask, because Tan Qingxiang never showed up.

Completely enamored with his brown-haired girl, he abandoned Shen Xi and Fu Tongwen to dine alone.

From the creamy crêpes and caviar, she had been waiting to see the mysterious “girlfriend.” But through the smoked fish, the toast, the beef soup, and even the foie gras terrine—still no sign of them.

By the time a glass of Meursault white wine had gone down, she had given up.

Just as the desserts and fruit arrived, Tan Qingxiang finally made an appearance, bringing the girl along. He sat down and downed his wine in one go.

“Sorry.”

“You should be apologizing to your girlfriend,” Shen Xi said politely. “The meal’s already over. Do you still want anything?”

The girl didn’t seem to understand her words. She just ate her dessert, unconcerned that the main course had already passed.

“She doesn’t understand English, except for a few simple words,” Tan Qingxiang explained on her behalf.

“Then how do you communicate with her?” Shen Xi asked in surprise. Just moments ago, Fu Tongwen had mentioned that they had already been together for half a month.

Tan Qingxiang smiled without answering. Shen Xi was still puzzled and took the opportunity to size up the woman who seemed to be a mistake.

“Alright, to put it simply,” Tan Qingxiang took off his glasses, placed them on the table, and rubbed his tired eyes. “Spiritual connection and physical communication. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

Shen Xi was left speechless.

At that moment, the girl noticed a gold-plated matchbox on the table. She picked it up and showed it to Tan Qingxiang with an astonished smile. Tan Qingxiang smiled as well and nodded. Shen Xi assumed they were communicating about how even the matchboxes in this restaurant were made of gold.

There were four of them, divided into two pairs—one pair had finished eating, while the other had just started.

Fu Tongwen had no desire to stay any longer. Using fatigue as an excuse, he led Shen Xi away from the table.

After resting for a while on the private deck, they returned to their room, where Fu Tongwen rummaged through his suitcase for a book to read. Shen Xi glanced at the time—nine o’clock. This was his usual reading hour… but he didn’t mention it. Had he forgotten?

“Does Dr. Tan plan to bring his girlfriend back to China?” she asked uneasily, starting the conversation with Dr. Tan.

She seemed to be Russian—would she be willing to live in Beijing?

“She will probably disembark first,” he replied without turning around.

“Disembark first? Then… what about Dr. Tan?”

He turned back and smiled. “He always has a few inexplicable girlfriends, origins unknown, no strings attached. It’s just a matter of fate coming and going.”

So that was it. She fell silent.

Fu Tongwen weighed the book in his hand, pondered for a moment, and then added, “When it comes to this, he doesn’t really see himself clearly. Or maybe it’s the opposite—he sees himself too clearly.”

Shen Xi didn’t quite understand, but she did notice the book he was holding.

It was Macbeth, the same book he had read four times in the past month.

“He has someone in his heart,” Fu Tongwen tapped the book against his palm and continued, “A girl from a brothel.”

“Then why don’t you lend him money to redeem her?” she asked immediately.

Fu Tongwen smiled. “Listen to me first.”

He spent two minutes telling her a cliché story about a poor scholar falling in love with a courtesan.

Tan Qingxiang came from a poor family. It was Fourth Master who sponsored him to study abroad. After Fourth Master passed away, Tan Qingxiang stayed by Fu Tongwen’s side. Since Fu Tongwen often visited places of pleasure, Tan Qingxiang inevitably followed along. That was how he met a girl with a tragic past. A young man experiencing his first love, he fell head over heels and was determined to marry her.

Shen Xi listened with growing unease.

To the girl, he was merely a fleeting romantic encounter, but to him, she was the love of his life.

The girl lived well, ate well, spent money lavishly, and was constantly surrounded by admirers. Why would she want to leave that life? Tan Qingxiang was willing to bare his heart, let it be sliced open piece by piece, bleeding profusely, and still refused to give up. He thought that people had feelings, that he was different from those young masters. But in the end, to her, he was just the same.

Nothing more than a jewelry box, a patron handing out silver coins.

“The money he took from me—he never saved a penny. He gave it all to her.”

This was far from the romantic tales sung in operas.

Shen Xi frowned and thought for a moment. “If it weren’t for Third Brother, he wouldn’t have gone there in the first place.”

Fu Tongwen heard this and tapped her forehead with the book. “You think too simply, little girl. You assume a brothel is just a brothel.”

He went on to describe the social scene of Beijing’s Eight Alleys.

Not just ordinary politicians, but even powerful generals like Zhang Xun hired former imperial palace chefs to run brothels as a means of networking. When President Yuan Shikai wanted to buy votes, he sent people there to bribe the senators. And in Beijing, if anyone wanted to host an important banquet, those with status all went there.

From the Senate and House of Representatives to the Imperial University of Peking, politicians, literati—none of them could escape its influence.

Yes, it was a place where men spent money on pleasure.

But those who went there didn’t just love beautiful women—they loved power.

The fog suddenly lifted.

Like a misty window being wiped clear, she finally saw through the layers of rumors surrounding Fu Tongwen.

This was the first time he had ever told her about the Beijing he belonged to.

“You’re getting tired. Get on the bed,” he suddenly said.

Shen Xi’s thoughts were still lingering in the world of courtesans and politicians, but his words pulled her back to reality.

Fu Tongwen was asking her to get on the bed. It was nine o’clock—she should, but today…

He walked around to the other side, lifted the white cotton blanket, and lay down at the head of the bed. Shen Xi had a feeling that this was about to be a conversation about them. She sat on the edge of the bed, her bare feet leaving her slippers as she slid under the blanket, leaning against him as usual.

She had forgotten to bring a book—there was no barrier between them now.

A fist’s distance apart, she noticed that he hadn’t turned on the bedside lamp on his side.

“What are your plans after returning to China?” he asked, looking at her instead of his book. “Third Brother will make arrangements for you.”

Was this what he wanted to talk about? Shen Xi felt a pang of disappointment and shook her head. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The ship would dock in Shanghai, a city she knew nothing about. Guangzhou, her hometown, had long become unfamiliar. She didn’t want to stay there either. And as for Beijing—aside from a few dirty alleyways, she had only ever lived in the Fu family’s house. When she thought about it, Beijing wasn’t much more familiar than Shanghai.

As for him, it went without saying—he would return to the Fu family. A high-ranking household, a different life. It would be hard to see each other again.

The thought of parting ways as soon as they disembarked left her feeling lost.

Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, slightly curled from being braided for too long. This reminded him of how, every morning when she woke up, strands of her hair would fall onto the pillow beside his face, sometimes even tangling around his wrist.

Sharing a bed—it was something only a married couple should do. He had been too naive.

And the things he was thinking about now—also ridiculous.

Fu Tongwen lifted the blanket and got out of bed to get a drink of water. After setting the cup down, he shuffled back in his slippers, but instead of returning to his usual spot, he sat down beside Shen Xi.

She thought he was going to turn off the light for her, as he usually did. But instead, he sat close, his figure blocking the light, and they faced each other.

Her hand fell into his palm again. He kneaded it gently, softening her heart.

She waited, waited for him to speak.

His face was bathed in the warm glow of the lamp, like a station light glimpsed from a passing train—glowing briefly before plunging into deeper night.

“I saw the Cape of Good Hope from the deck this afternoon,” he said. “I thought about calling you to see it. It might be hard to pass by it again.”

After he finished speaking, he was silent for a long time.

She watched as he lowered his head and kissed her palm, and the warmth jolted her awake.

“From now on, stay with Third Brother, alright?” he asked softly.

_{T/N: What an awkward but heartfelt confession.}