TYSUF – Chapter 19 Concealing Yearning (4)

Shen Xi was still standing there dumbfounded.

This was the first time Fu Tongwen had directly said what he liked.

Tan Qingxiang wiped the rain off his face and chuckled, “He’s just teasing you. That guy loves getting the upper hand with words. Come on, follow me.”

He waded into the water first. Shen Xi didn’t dare to delay and followed. The two of them made their way to a nearby street, helping move the wounded to dry ground. By midday, the water had receded a little, only to rise again soon after.

There were now two more women and five children in the apartment. Shen Xi checked on the children—none were seriously harmed—then settled them in a guest room to rest. These people had been trapped in the flood for an entire day and night, their spirits shattered. Their crying was endless, their souls seemingly lost.

This made them easier to care for. The old man alone was enough to handle them.

The floodwaters on the first floor had receded, leaving behind a layer of mud on the floor, thick like a tidal flat and reeking unbearably.

Neither Shen Xi nor Tan Qingxiang had had the chance to bathe. They only washed their hands and faces before sitting down together to eat noodles.

“This is lotus seed pastry from Lianxiang Cake House,” the old woman opened a box. “Master said to bring it for you to eat.”

Suddenly, her mind cleared—he was upstairs.

The old woman cleaned up the kitchen first, then went to wipe down the floors in the front hall, finally restoring the place to some semblance of order.

As Tan Qingxiang ate, he started telling a story about Fu Tongwen’s childhood friend. Before leaving, the girl had tried to become his wife, using the excuse of sending him to France for treatment to deceive him in two ways. But Fu Tongwen was different. If she had truly pursued what she wanted and left him behind, he might have actually married her. A love that spanned two countries, each chasing their own dreams—that could have been a beautiful story. But by deceiving him like that, she not only humiliated herself but also showed complete disregard for Fu Tongwen’s ideals.

Thus, they became strangers in spirit.

Finishing his story, Tan Qingxiang wiped the sweat from his forehead and smiled.

He should have realized it earlier. From the moment Shen Xi rushed forward to save people, to that night, to today—how could the third young master of the Fu family not take notice of such a girl? How could he not hold her in his heart?

After filling her stomach, Shen Xi took a hot bath at the old woman’s urging.

The water in the streets was filthy, mixed with endless debris and mud. She had to change the bathwater twice before finally feeling clean.

Noticing that Shen Xi didn’t have any spare clothes, the old woman found some garments left behind by her daughter. The outfit had small buttons running from the collar across the front to the side. Tying them up felt interesting—like a Chinese-style robe, but not quite.

“My daughter married an overseas Chinese. Their women like wearing this style,” the old woman said with a smile. It was a bit big, but it suited her.

Shen Xi stepped out of the bathroom and suddenly felt self-conscious, glancing around the room.

No one was there.

Where did they go?

Her leather shoes had been ruined by the floodwater, so she wore the old woman’s daughter’s shoes instead. They were too big, and the small heels made her unsteady. Opening the door to look for someone, she saw Fu Tongwen sitting outside, helping a little boy put on pants.

He was seated on a small stool, his long legs clad in well-tailored trousers. The fabric was stiff and neatly pressed, making it uncomfortable for him to bend his knees.

So, the third young master had no choice but to stretch out his legs, leaning lazily against the wall outside the opposite room, his polished leather shoes resting against the doorframe of her room.

Seeing her step out, he grinned at the little boy and asked, “Doesn’t big sister look like a heroine?”

“Yes!” The little boy beamed.

Once he finished dressing the child, Fu Tongwen tied the waistband into a knot and gave the boy a light pat on his bottom. “Off you go.”

The little boy hugged his head and planted a sloppy kiss on his forehead before running off barefoot, his footsteps echoing as he disappeared inside.

After just a few steps, as if remembering something, he turned around and came back—to close the door.

He finally looked at her, his eyes truly seeing her, smiling as he took her in from head to toe.

She lowered her head to look at herself. “Feels a bit strange.”

Her long hair cascaded down, framing her oval face, making her complexion appear even fairer. Her eyes, as if freshly washed, were clear and untainted. She was open and candid, her soft, round cheeks flushed red. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she said quietly, “Let me check your pulse.”

Fu Tongwen pushed himself up from the floor and reached for her hand.

Without a word, he led her back to their room, pulling her toward the bed.

Outside, the children, hungry, were calling out and running back and forth.

Through the wooden door, the sounds were distinct. Somewhere in the background, a woman’s soft singing drifted in:

“The moonlight shines on the courtyard… The rain falls heavy, the streets flood high…”

Both of them chuckled. How fitting the old song was.

It felt as though they were standing in the middle of a bustling street, surrounded by countless onlookers.

“Where did we leave off yesterday? Do you remember?” he asked.

“I am like a lone wild goose in the vast sky, I am like a dragon stranded in the shallow sands.” These two lines had stuck in her mind.

“Do you know what comes next?”

Shen Xi wasn’t familiar with the opera and shook her head.

“Get in bed first,” he said as he adjusted the gramophone. “I’ll play it for you.”

Get in bed again…

People always said the young masters of old Beijing had their indulgences—lounging on couches, smoking opium, refusing to set foot on the ground all day. From the steamship to this very moment, Fu Tongwen was certainly giving her an education.

Noticing she hadn’t moved, Fu Tongwen laughed. “Aren’t you tired?”

With a soft rustle, he pulled the curtain, casting a shadow over the bed.

He walked over, bent down, and took off her shoes. His warm hands drew close, making Shen Xi instinctively curl her feet, her heartbeat suddenly racing.

He shifted his position and got onto the bed as well. His trousers brushed over her feet as he moved, the fabric’s touch sending a shiver up her spine. Her toes curled in reaction, and in her flustered state, only one thought surfaced—grab another pillow, another…

The vinyl record spun with a gentle crackle, the singer’s voice carrying through the room:

“I am like a fish that has swallowed the hook, I am like a boat adrift without a rudder—”

“Are you listening?” he murmured. “Third Brother… I am like a fish that has swallowed the hook. Yangyang, isn’t that so?”

Her head bumped against the wall behind her, firm and unyielding, as she watched him draw near.

Then, the warmth of his lips landed on hers.

Unhurried, he took her lips between his, sometimes pressing, sometimes biting, sometimes gently sipping. The kiss was damp and lingering, like being suddenly pushed into the depths of the sea—weightless, powerless, sinking…

There was no air left, only water filling her vision.

“The children… outside…” She tried to push him away.

“Third Brother knows his limits,” he chuckled, his fingers unfastening the top button of his shirt.

The bedsheet tangled around her limbs, a hindrance, clinging to her like an extra layer of clothing.

He kissed her like savoring a lychee—peeling off the shell, sucking the juices, then slowly taking in the tender flesh.

How could one person have so many ways to kiss?

In the sweltering July heat of Guangzhou, an extra layer of fabric was enough to make one sweat.

Soon, his back was damp as well, his shirt soaked through, clinging to his skin with warmth.

He said, “Being with me like this means you can’t promise yourself to anyone else.”

Then, he added, “If you do, it wouldn’t look right.”

Finally, he laughed. “Why don’t you say something to Third Brother?”

An innocent girl couldn’t withstand such teasing—her face flushed, her body yielding as he held her, rolling with him onto the bed. It was as if she no longer belonged to herself.

A beloved, stripped of all pretense, bare before him.

Even if they didn’t fully cross the final line, the intimacy between them overflowed—a thousand tender touches, a million whispered affections.

…

She came to her senses when he wiped the sweat from her skin.

He got out of bed, went downstairs, and returned with warm water for her. “Drink,” he said, letting her soothe her throat.

Then, as her lips parted, he leaned down again, capturing them. The taste of honeyed apricots swirled between their tongues, and in the end, he coaxed her into feeding it all back to him.

The vinyl record played over and over, switching to a new song every seven or eight minutes. When it reached the end, silence fell.

“So fragrant…” She belatedly noticed the scent. Could it have been infused with incense?

“I found it downstairs and lit it to try,” he said softly, toying with the buttons of her collar, his forehead pressed against hers as he gazed into her eyes. Shen Xi was drowsy and wanted to close her eyes, but she sensed he had more to say.

Her outfit had a subtle pattern that shimmered under the dim light. Every time she shifted, the pattern transformed. He admired it for a while and then said, “There are two things I need to tell you. Listen carefully.”

“Mm.”

“Your family was involved in the revolution. Though the Qing Dynasty has fallen, the Beiyang faction and the revolutionaries remain bitter enemies. There are still those who bear grudges against the Shen family. So aside from me and Qingxiang, you must never reveal your true identity to anyone else.”

She nodded. She understood this well; even in New York, she had always kept her mouth shut.

“There are many people outside who want me dead. Keep our relationship a secret,” he said. “I don’t want to become the reason you lose your life.”

She still remembered the scorn Chen Linguan had thrown at Fu Tongwen that day, as well as the opera singer on the ship. This wasn’t an empty threat. She nodded again.

Seeing that he had fallen silent, she grew anxious. “Is there anything else?”

His fingers pressed lightly against her eyelids. “Rest for a while. I’ve booked a rickshaw—we’ll leave before nightfall.”

Shen Xi hugged a pillow, leaned against him, and closed her eyes.

By dusk, the floodwaters had receded significantly.

Fu Tongwen left money for the elderly couple—intended for the unfamiliar woman and children in the house.

As Shen Xi prepared to leave, she tugged at the bedsheets, trying to smooth them out. But no matter how much she adjusted them, she felt they still bore “suspicious” creases. Seeing her shy, conflicted actions, Fu Tongwen found it rather endearing. Just before she stepped out, he threw her changed clothes onto the bed.

Left in disarray, as if nothing had ever been touched.

By the time they reached the dock, the sky had darkened completely.

The moon was shrouded in clouds, appearing small and dim. The steamship’s smokestack belched thick black smoke, swallowing the moon from her perspective. Compared to what she had seen in childhood, it was a completely different sight.

The ancients were wrong. The brilliance of home only exists in one’s heart and dreams.

The butler, relieved to see them return before departure, spoke in English, explaining how they had been worried. If their guests hadn’t made it back in time, they would have had to arrange to send their luggage elsewhere. Fu Tongwen had never left a local address in Guangzhou.

He had been trapped in that Guangzhou apartment, with the elderly couple who never read newspapers. He hadn’t seen any domestic papers either.

Once on board, he hurriedly washed up and asked the butler for several newspapers, which he read on the private deck.

It had been so long since he had seen written Chinese. He didn’t miss a single word.

The articles were filled with intellectuals fiercely criticizing Yuan Shikai, calling him hypocritical for issuing the “Shouqing Order,” condemning his ambition as he performed sacrificial rites to Heaven, and above all, attacking him for signing the humiliating “Twenty-One Demands” with Japan.

Each of those twenty-one demands, laid out in detail, was a shocking betrayal. Every word stung. As Fu Tongwen read, his heart pounded, and his chest tightened as if he couldn’t catch his breath.

He had heard snippets of these matters in a teahouse at the Thirteen Factories but hadn’t had time to delve into them before the flood disrupted everything. Now, seeing the clauses listed so clearly, the reality was worse than he had imagined.

And he—how ridiculous—had been arguing with the directors of DuPont on this very ship.

Shen Xi watched his expression darken, his brows knit with frustration. She didn’t dare snatch the newspaper from his hands but frequently cast imploring glances toward Tan Qingxiang.

“Enough. You escaped a flood, don’t lose your composure over a few newspapers,” Tan Qingxiang said.

Fu Tongwen’s gaze was heavy. He let out a self-mocking chuckle but said nothing.

The gloom brought by those newspapers lingered between them until the last day of the journey.

On the deck, Shen Xi finished packing her suitcase, preparing to disembark with the crowd. Beside her stood Fu Tongwen, impeccably dressed, with three suitcases at his feet—one large, two small. The ship’s crew would help transport them later.

To avoid suspicion, they would disembark separately and go their own ways.

Fu Tongwen held a cigarette, rolling it between his fingers. He had already given her the address and keys to his Shanghai apartment, along with a handwritten letter. “Three months. I’ll arrange for someone to fetch you.”

After being away for so long, the country had changed beyond recognition. He couldn’t risk taking her with him.

He hadn’t gone to such lengths to save her just to put her in danger again—he wanted her to have a new life of her own.

Tiny bits of tobacco fell onto the deck, onto their shoes.

Shen Xi nodded. Something thick lodged in her throat, and she didn’t know what else to say.

Fu Tongwen glanced at his pocket watch, then looked at her.

Moment by moment, their parting loomed closer.

The ticking of a clock carved time into fragments, forcing you to feel every second slipping away…

They were so close their knees nearly touched, yet they did nothing. Fu Tongwen crushed his cigarette and stuffed it into his trouser pocket. “If I die, there will be a way for you to know,” he said.

That was the last thing he told her that day.

The crowd surged. Shen Xi struggled to lift her suitcase—inside were the books, clothes, and surgical tools she had brought from America.

She stepped into the flow of disembarking passengers.

She looked just like any other overseas student returning home, dressed in a fashionable dress and high heels, making her way down the gangway.

With every step, her heart clenched.

She wanted to turn back, but before she could, the crowd pushed her forward—off the ship.