TYSUF – Chapter 18 Concealing Yearning (3)

Three days later, the patient passed away.

The captain invited a priest onboard. During the small funeral service, the priest said, “He has been taken back by the Lord. At this moment, he is with Him, no longer experiencing the trials we must endure, no longer knowing tears, sickness, or death—”

The next day, his body was taken off the ship and buried in a foreign land.

This was the first farewell.

A month later, the sniper disembarked.

Two more months passed, and the ship had now entered Chinese waters. It would first stop at Guangzhou before heading north to Shanghai.

It was now mid-July.

Since the previous night, heavy rain had been pouring.

It hadn’t stopped for even a moment by dawn.

The frosted glass windows of the dining hall were pounded by the storm, making a loud, rhythmic noise—not unlike the sound of dense gunfire. By now, most of the first-class and premium-class passengers had disembarked, leaving many empty tables around. The waitstaff, however, remained diligent, replacing the fresh flowers on each table.

When they reached this particular table, Tan Qingxiang reached out and took the flowers, as if intending to help with the work.

But the next moment, he handed the flowers to his girlfriend. “For you.”

The girl had been traveling with him for days. She had learned some simple Chinese, and upon receiving the flowers, her face flushed. “Thank you.”

Shen Xi glanced sideways at them.

Tan Qingxiang feigned a frown. “I’m saying goodbye to her.”

“She’s disembarking? Today? In Guangzhou?” Shen Xi blurted out three questions in a row.

She had noticed that the girl hadn’t disembarked at earlier stops and had assumed that their love had triumphed over all obstacles. Now that they had entered Chinese waters, why part ways in Guangzhou?

Tan Qingxiang took off his glasses and wiped the lenses with a napkin, remaining silent. The girl, unable to understand such complex sentences, naturally did not answer either.

Fu Tongwen took out his pocket watch and checked the time. “Are you getting off the ship?”

This was Guangzhou—her hometown.

Shen Xi hesitated. “I’m not familiar with Guangzhou city. The only place I’ve been to is the Thirteen Factories. Even if I go, there’s no one to see.”

After her grandfather left office, he forbade the family from engaging in business. But Guangzhou had always been a hub for merchants from all over the world. At that time, it was the only port in Qing China open to foreign trade, where countless people braved the seas, rising from commoners to men of immense wealth. If outsiders found the city so enticing, how could the young men of local noble families resist?

However, the golden age of the Thirteen Factories ended in 1856, when a great fire reduced it to ruins.

When she visited later, it was already a rebuilt version of its former self, still filled with shops, but her father had told her that it was nothing compared to its heyday. Decades ago, the wealth of the Pan, Wu, Lu, and Ye families had surpassed even that of the imperial treasury—they were truly richer than nations.

“Just go and see,” Fu Tongwen made the decision for her.

“Alright.” Shen Xi smiled. “I’ll take you to the Thirteen Factories.”

She looked at the two about to part ways. Neither showed any sign of sadness, which puzzled her. Had the girl changed her mind?

But when the ship docked, the girl suddenly broke down in tears and threw herself into Tan Qingxiang’s arms.

Tan Qingxiang had been holding an umbrella over her to shield her from the rain. From behind, Shen Xi couldn’t see his face, but she could make out his movements—his free hand lifted, likely cradling the girl’s face. His head tilted slightly—was he kissing her?

Tan Qingxiang was a proper man. Though he could be sharp-tongued at times, he never showed public displays of affection.

Shen Xi was intrigued and shifted her position for a better view. Dr. Tan was quite the gentleman—even when kissing, he didn’t use his tongue, just a simple press of the lips.

It was certainly different from Fu Tongwen…

“Enjoying the view?” Fu Tongwen teased her.

“N-no… What’s there to see?” Shen Xi’s face heated up instantly, mumbling under her breath.

Wait—wasn’t she contradicting herself?

All around them, other passengers were preparing to disembark. Some carried suitcases, while well-dressed ladies held umbrellas as their servants managed their luggage. Because most of them traveled with companions, there weren’t many farewell scenes like Tan Qingxiang’s.

And so, the two of them became the most striking sight at the Guangzhou stop.

But once they got off the ship, the girl was the first to leave.

Tan Qingxiang wiped his lips, rubbing away the lingering lipstick, and smiled. “I’ve lost again.”

Still, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy and wanted to see her off once more.

The three of them agreed to meet at Fu Tongwen’s apartment in Guangzhou, where they would stay for two nights before reboarding the ship.

The Thirteen Factories had thousands of shops, but due to the heavy rain, most of them were closed.

Having just arrived from New York, neither of them had much interest in Western goods. Instead, they decided to visit a teahouse for a warm drink.

The teahouse, located in the northern part of the city, was quiet at first. But as more people came in to escape the rain, the place grew noisy. Soon, over a hundred people crowded the small space. There were no empty tables, then no spare stools, and eventually, people were left standing. The crying of children and the arguments between patrons turned the place into utter chaos.

“The rain doesn’t seem like it’ll stop. Let’s head back,” he suggested.

Since it had been her idea to come here, making for an unpleasant outing, she nodded sheepishly.

Fu Tongwen stood up, but before he could grab his jacket, someone had already taken his seat.

When they reached the ground floor, the floodwaters had already risen past the steps, nearly half a meter deep.

Luckily, there were still rickshaws waiting for passengers. Some people rushed to snatch a rickshaw to the west, and in the process, a passing umbrella splashed Shen Xi with dirty water. She stood there, stunned, watching the culprits walk away.

Fu Tongwen took out a white linen handkerchief and gently pressed it against her face to wipe off the droplets. This man… he really understood—she was wearing makeup, so she couldn’t simply wipe it off, only dab it carefully.

“Eat this,” he said with a smile.

Eat what? She suddenly understood—he was referring to her lipstick, which had been smudged away.

Did she look that bad? If she had known this trip would be such a disaster, she wouldn’t have done her makeup so meticulously. But she had never heard someone phrase it like that before. The only similar thing she could recall were stories of playboys teasing women by ‘tasting’ the rouge on their lips.

Unconsciously, Shen Xi bit her lower lip.

But before she could react, his handkerchief moved ahead of her, wiping away the remnants of her lipstick and revealing her natural color underneath. “Just teasing you,” he said lightly.

From a distance, a rickshaw driver spotted Fu Tongwen and Shen Xi’s refined appearance and, realizing they were wealthy, called his companions over. They bypassed other waiting passengers and came directly to Fu Tongwen. This rickshaw was even cleaner than the previous one.

“Lucky,” she whispered with a smile.

“It’s not luck,” Fu Tongwen replied casually as he helped her onto the rickshaw. “People always respect fine clothes before they respect the person.”

That was true. At thirty-something, he saw things far more clearly than she did.

Fu Tongwen gave the driver an address. Upon hearing it, the rickshaw driver beamed with relief. “Sir, that’s a good place—it’s on high ground. On my way here, I saw several lower areas already flooded over a meter deep. They’re impassable.”

What awful weather.

To avoid the flooded streets and because pulling the rickshaw through water was difficult, they didn’t arrive at his apartment until nightfall.

The apartment was looked after by an elderly couple year-round.

Fu Tongwen knocked on the door. When the old woman answered and saw him, she was taken aback. “Sir, you’re in Guangzhou? You didn’t even send a telegram—” She then noticed Shen Xi, opened and closed her mouth twice, unsure how to address her.

“This is Miss Shen,” Fu Tongwen introduced.

“Miss Shen, welcome.”

The old woman, rarely seeing Fu Tongwen, was warm and chatty. She led them inside, talking nonstop about the seven days of rain in Guangzhou and rumors that the dikes were breaking—there could be a flood coming. “Sir, this really isn’t a good time to be here.”

Hearing this, Shen Xi finally sensed that something was amiss.

The living room was packed with supplies and food, so much that the deep brown wooden furniture was barely visible. Seeing this, she felt more and more like getting off the ship had been the wrong decision.

Fu Tongwen showed no outward reaction, but after dinner, when Tan Qingxiang still hadn’t shown up, even he started to look concerned.

The old woman brought over a brass kettle and poured water into the glass on Fu Tongwen’s desk. “Miss, your room is ready. You can rest now.” She assumed Shen Xi was lingering because her room wasn’t prepared.

Shen Xi hummed in response.

She had planned to leave once he went to sleep, but since he was waiting for Dr. Tan, who knew when he’d be at ease enough to rest?

“That would be troublesome,” Fu Tongwen answered for her. “Miss Shen will be sleeping with me.”

Shen Xi was mortified. She instinctively clasped her hands behind her back and started toward the window, but the moment she stepped down, the floorboard beneath her let out a loud creak, forcing her to freeze in place.

Meanwhile, Fu Tongwen remained completely at ease, as if he hadn’t just said something scandalous. He even smiled at the old woman.

“I wasn’t being thoughtful enough,” the old woman chuckled, pretending to take it lightly. She picked up the brass kettle and walked out, but the smile in the wrinkles of her face was unmistakable.

In chaotic times, a young master bringing along an unmarried young lady—if they weren’t sharing a bed, now that would be strange.

After the servant left, Shen Xi glanced at him cautiously. “I’ll just go to the guest room.”

Fu Tongwen took her hand, leading her from the desk to the sofa. “Shall we listen to some records?”

Changing the subject to avoid answering directly—his usual trick.

She didn’t know if he did it only with her or if it was simply his nature.

On the table sat a phonograph with a wax cylinder, its large black horn several times bigger than the machine itself. In the dim glow of the lamp, it faced them, casting an eerie presence in the quiet night.

Fu Tongwen opened a drawer and started selecting a record.

He wanted to listen to opera, but there wasn’t any available here: “I’ll go downstairs and see if there’s a new phonograph.”

Before long, an old man, wrapped in a coat, sleepily carried up a phonograph capable of playing records. Fu Tongwen followed behind him, placing the vinyl records he had chosen to the side. The old man murmured an apology, explaining that he and his wife loved listening to opera and had borrowed the phonograph from the Third Master.

Fu Tongwen didn’t mind much: “If it’s left unused for too long, it’ll break anyway. Once I leave, you can move it back downstairs.”

After the old man left, Fu Tongwen began adjusting the machine.

Bringing up a phonograph with such fanfare—was he planning to stay up all night?

She tugged lightly at his shirt sleeve. “I should keep watch instead,” she said. Him staying up all night wasn’t a good idea.

Fu Tongwen didn’t turn around. “Let’s wait a little longer.”

He arranged the record properly, then leaned back, resting his arm behind her shoulder. “Xiao Ziyun’s Wenzhao Pass.”

The sound of the huqin suddenly rose. The singer’s voice was full of twists and turns, each phrase carrying deep emotion.

His fingers lightly grazed her shoulder, back and forth. His feet, clad in slippers, tapped along with the rhythm as he gazed at the phonograph. From her angle, there was a flicker of light in his eyes.

“Were you like this in Beijing too?” she asked.

He turned to her voice. “Like what?”

“This.” She gestured toward the phonograph. The Fu Tongwen she knew was the one at sea—a modern man, western-educated, new-fashioned. The version of him that lived in deep courtyards, in grand old mansions, had long since faded into a vague silhouette. All she remembered was coughing, rain, and carved lanterns.

He chuckled. “When I listened to opera in Beijing, I went to Baishun Hutong. Listening alone would seem too lonely, and my family would think I was sick.”

Indulging in sensual pleasures—that was Fu Laosan’s reputation.

Under the dim light, he studied her face and softly said, “Once we go back, you might not like Third Brother anymore.”

“I won’t,” she blurted out instinctively. She answered too quickly, revealing her urgency.

Fu Tongwen’s face was already close to hers. He leaned in as if to kiss her, but hesitated.

On the cabinet, a clock with a cloisonné-enamel glass cover struck three. Its chimes rang three times.

Such perfect timing—it made him laugh. His expression relaxed. “Being disliked by a girlfriend is tragic. If you ever want to break up, don’t say it out loud. Leave me a bit of hope, let me believe you’ll come back.”

The record was playing the line:

“I am like a sorrowful lone wild goose in the vast sky, like a dragon trapped in the shallows of the riverbed…”

It was already a pitiful and melancholic lyric, and with the opera’s accompaniment, it became even more sorrowful.

“…I never said I wanted to break up,” Shen Xi said hastily, flustered by his words.

Fu Tongwen laughed.

He moved closer again, about to kiss her.

But then came hurried footsteps, approaching from a distance. He immediately became alert and shut off the phonograph.

Shen Xi started to get up, but he pressed her knee down with his hand, stopping her. Even if real danger came, there was nothing a woman like her needed to do.

The footsteps drew near and stopped.

“Tongwen, it’s me.” It was Tan Qingxiang.

“Mr. Tan!” Shen Xi, relieved, rushed to open the door and let him in.

Tan Qingxiang was completely drenched, his pants covered in mud. With each step, he left wet footprints behind. The towel in his hand, likely taken from downstairs, was being used to roughly dry his hair and face. “The Changdi, Xihoukou, Xiaxiguan, and Aokou areas are all flooded. I had to pay a huge sum to get someone to help me escape.” He panted and put on his glasses. “The floodwaters were carrying corpses past me—it was terrifying.”

Their luggage was still on the ship. Seeing him in such a state, Shen Xi realized he couldn’t go on like this. She went downstairs to ask the old couple for some clothes for him. She took them downstairs first to be washed.

By the time she returned, Tan Qingxiang had changed into a gray tunic and was standing barefoot on the floor. He looked utterly ridiculous.

“I was afraid you two were trapped at the Thirteen Factories, so I did everything I could to get there, but no one was willing to take me, no matter how much I paid,” he said, still shaken. He checked his watch. “There’s a huge fire there now. The streets are flooded, but the buildings are burning in rows. There’s no place to escape.”

That was too tragic. The tea house had been packed with people earlier, all trying to avoid the floodwaters…

The Thirteen Factories again. Another great fire.

She listened in a daze, as if she were hearing her father recount the great fire of Xianfeng’s sixth year.

The two of them talked for an hour.

Shen Xi and Tan Qingxiang both insisted that Fu Tongwen should rest first. After persuading him to go to bed, they continued chatting outside the door for a long time.

Tan Qingxiang left the door slightly ajar. “I’m going out to see if there’s anything I can do to help.”

That was what she wanted to do as well.

But as a woman, going out late at night was risky—she might not be able to help much and could even end up making others worry about her.

They finally agreed that when morning came, Tan Qingxiang would go out to check the water levels and gather information about the docks, while Shen Xi would look around the nearby streets.

But in reality, by dawn, the first floor was already flooded. The two of them first helped the elderly couple move their food supplies upstairs, then waded through the water to leave the apartment.

The streets were deeply submerged.

“I’ll go ahead and check first.”

Tan Qingxiang went ahead to scout the area. He found that people from lower-lying areas had already fled here—many women and children, as well as some injured individuals.

“I’m thinking we could bring some of them back, choosing the women and children, and those who are too weak to endure this,” he said. After all, they weren’t familiar with the people here, and taking in men could be unsafe.

“I’ll help you.” Shen Xi tied up her skirt above her thighs, preparing to step down.

Before she could enter the water, the old woman rushed out and grabbed her wrist.

“That water is filthy,” she said. “Women shouldn’t go into such dirty water.”

She didn’t want to say too much in front of Tan Qingxiang, but both he and Shen Xi were doctors—they knew exactly why women had to be careful about unclean water. Yet, relying on Tan Qingxiang alone wasn’t an option either.

“Let her go.”

Fu Tongwen stood halfway down the stairs, watching them.

The old woman turned to him. “Sir, you should talk some sense into her.”

Fu Tongwen smiled. “Miss Shen’s favorite thing to do is leave me behind to go save others.”

…That wasn’t entirely true. Shen Xi hesitated.

He smirked—he was teasing her.

“I rather enjoy watching a girl’s silhouette as she walks away,” Fu Tongwen said as he turned and went back upstairs. Then, he instructed the old woman, “The kitchen on the first floor is flooded. We’ll need to find a way to get hot water. Let’s help these two doctors.”

That almost sounded like a confession.

In July 1915, Guangzhou experienced its worst flood in two centuries, known as the “Yi-Mao Flood Disaster,” affecting 3.78 million people. Some streets in Guangzhou were submerged under four meters of water. On July 13, during the flood, a fire broke out in the Thirteen Factories, burning down 2,000 businesses. Thousands died, and the number of injured was uncountable.