TYSUF – Chapter 26 Alas, the Swallow Returns (1)

The two of them had been fooling around on the bed for quite a while—though their words were muffled and unclear, the sounds they made were very real.

In the other courtyards, it was normal for bedchamber maids to serve the young masters directly, even during intimacy. It was common for the masters, in the heat of the moment, to summon the maids to join them in bed for pleasure and passion. Here in Third Master’s courtyard, maids had also once been arranged by the elders to serve as bed companions—but he had dismissed them all. Since then, only the manservants had taken turns staying in the room to serve him.

A woman had never set foot in this courtyard.

Let alone shared a bed.

This Miss Shen—she was the first.

How could the servant not understand what that meant?

As soon as he left, the word had already gotten out.

At that moment, in the west wing, Shen Xi couldn’t find a bronze mirror, so she used the glass window as her reflection, running her fingers through her hair to neaten it as best she could.

Fu Tongwen’s quarters were in the eastern inner room of the main building, with a western side room as well. Shen Xi had gone there to change her clothes.

When she returned to the east room, two maids were assisting Fu Tongwen with his washing. Seeing her arrive, Fu Tongwen rolled up his sleeves and personally pulled a white towel from the second basin, wrung it lightly, and said, “Come here.”

Shen Xi stepped forward slowly, one step at a time.

His lowered expression made it seem like he was about to kiss her.

But when her face was covered with the warm towel, she realized he simply wanted to help her wash her face.

Four years.

She had traveled across the ocean to leave, and now, after crossing mountains and rivers, she had returned.

Her days in the Fu household would begin again from here—from this winter.

Fu Tongwen’s courtyard was not small.

Through the decorative gate was the passage hall, followed by a middle hall, and further back, the main house courtyard.

The main house was divided into three rooms: one bright central room and two darker side rooms, separated by partitions. The central bright room was the main hall, and the two dark side rooms were partitioned off. The eastern room was Fu Tongwen’s bedroom. Afraid of the cold during winter, the maids had hung heavy cotton curtains for him.

The side room on the eastern end of the main house was the study. Along the western wall was a full bookshelf, packed with books.

There were four maids and six manservants in the courtyard, along with Tan Qingxiang and that young boy. The boy’s name was Wan An. His name had been given in hopes of suppressing the illness plaguing Fu Tongwen.

“What was your name before?” Shen Xi had asked him one day.

The boy reacted like he’d encountered a great danger—as if uttering his old name would worsen Fu Tongwen’s illness. After careful thought, he replied cautiously, “I’ve always been called Wan An.”

He’d said this while replacing the plum blossoms in the study.

The plum blossoms had been sent by the old master.

Shen Xi’s sudden arrival at the Fu household had stirred up the still waters and broken the stalemate, softening the old master’s previous indifference toward this courtyard. Before, there had been twenty-four armed guards outside the decorative gate—all trusted men of the old master. Aside from delivering food, supplements, and medicine, they had essentially left this once-glorious third young master of the capital to rot in isolation.

But what truly shattered the frost came on December 8, 1915—a Wednesday.

The year of Yimao, second day of the eleventh lunar month. Heavy snow.

That day, the maids boiled pots of hot water, pouring them over the ice that had formed in the courtyard. The manservants swept away the melted slush with brooms, then used cotton cloths to soak up the remaining water from the ground.

Inside the study, Shen Xi curled up in a grand armchair, a fox-fur drape over her lap, waiting for Fu Tongwen.

She watched the maids and servants bustling about outside the window. In her peripheral vision, the man stood with his back to her. His shirt sleeves were fastened with thin black sleeve bands, pulling the cuffs up a few inches. This way of wearing them exposed his wrists—convenient for flipping through books and writing.

“You’re leaving soon, right? Should I go back and pack?” She rested her chin on her knees and asked softly.

Today was not only a day of heavy snow—it was also Master Fu’s birthday. He sent word for Fu Tongwen to attend the opera.

This was a kind of pardon.

But Fu Tongwen didn’t believe that just Shen Xi and a fabricated story could bring true peace so easily.

What was waiting outside the decorative gate? What sort of situation lay ahead? How should he respond? After sending away his father’s trusted servants, Fu Tongwen had already considered all kinds of possibilities in his mind.

Now the time to attend the opera was drawing near, and he still hadn’t decided: should he bring Shen Xi?

“Come, let’s go together,” he said, closing his book.

“Me?” Shen Xi quickly shook her head. “That wouldn’t be appropriate…”

He smiled, slid the book back onto the third shelf of the bookcase, lifted the fox-fur drape from her lap, and pulled her out of the armchair. “You’re coming. You can even serve as cover.”

“Cover?” Shen Xi didn’t understand.

Still smiling, he draped his suit jacket over her shoulders.

“If you want me to do something, you’d better tell me first,” she said. “I don’t know your family at all—I can’t even remember who I met four years ago. How many siblings do you have? How many concubines does your father have? If I’m supposed to act as cover, what exactly am I covering?”

Fu Tongwen took off his black-rimmed glasses, folded the temples, and paused to think about how to explain. With her status, she was a sensitive presence in the Fu family. “You’re there so that when I don’t feel like talking, I have an excuse to avoid it.”

That explanation gave her some clarity.

Back in the room, the maids were tidying the bedding. As usual, she took her clothes to the west-side room to change.

As she passed by him, Fu Tongwen caught her wrist and said with a soft laugh, “It’s a holiday today. Just change here.”

Heavy snow counts as a holiday? “We’ll be late,” she said, glancing meaningfully at the two maids and hastily pulling her hand away.

Fu Tongwen was only teasing and didn’t insist—he let her go.

He rubbed the pads of his thumb and index finger together, as if savoring the smooth feel of her skin.

At this point in his decline, when he couldn’t even control his own fate, he absolutely couldn’t drag her down with him. Nor did he wish to have true conjugal relations with her right now.

The title “Miss Shen” was a way of leaving her a way out. By not touching her body, he was also protecting her reputation. That morning, he had indeed looked her over thoroughly beneath the bed canopy, but he had only looked.

Still, Fu Tongwen was a man who had known the pleasures of the world. His kind of “looking” wasn’t like anyone else’s. His favorite thing to do was to cuddle the drowsy Shen Xi in his arms during an afternoon nap or when he woke up in the morning, strip off her nightclothes, and quietly admire her body in detail. From top to bottom, he left nothing unseen.

“Third Brother has boundaries,” he’d always say with a grin, teasing her, “Just doing this much—no harm in it.”

He looked at her brazenly, and sometimes, carried away by emotion, he’d even caress her for a while. Yet he always spoke as if he were a gentleman.

That day, the Fu residence was livelier than in previous years, with relatives near and far gathered together.

First, it was Fu Master’s seventieth birthday—a rare milestone, a round and auspicious number—so of course everyone came to join the celebration. Second, the Fu family was favored by the President. With a new emperor about to ascend the throne, those who couldn’t find a place in court found it worthwhile to show support for the Fu family instead.

Master Fu had allowed Fu Tongwen to leave the courtyard, but had intentionally excluded him from dining with the elders, clearly aiming to diminish his status.

By the time Fu Tongwen led Shen Xi into the rear garden, the seats below the opera stage were already full.

Opposite the stage was a two-story viewing building meant for watching performances.

The men seated below wore padded long robes and mandarin jackets, most with round satin skullcaps. The women were dressed in traditional attire, with children standing or sitting beside them. The noise was constant and lively, a sea of chatter.

They were all Fu family relatives, near and distant.

Fu Tongwen led Shen Xi past the first floor and followed a servant upstairs. A few older men who noticed him quickly rose to greet him, calling out, “Third Uncle.” After they’d ascended the stairs, Shen Xi quietly asked, “Those men… they looked older than you, didn’t they?”

Fu Tongwen smiled, touched the back of her head, and said with a laugh, “That’s right.”

“I’ll keep quiet once we’re upstairs. If you need me for anything, just give me a signal.”

“Relax,” he replied, much more at ease than she was. He adjusted the lapels of his wool suit with both hands and straightened them. “You came with Third Brother today just to watch the opera.”

Fu Tongwen had a faint smile at the corner of his lips, strolling upstairs without a care.

The sound of his leather shoes striking the wooden stairs rang sharply in her ears. Shen Xi saw that his right hand was tucked casually into his trouser pocket, and with his other hand he adjusted the collar of his shirt—an expression of disdain spreading faintly from the arch of his brows.

That small gesture looked like he was putting on stage makeup.

He was a completely different man inside the house than out.

Just then, the huqin began to play. The opera was starting.

Shen Xi collected herself and followed him upstairs.

Unlike that day in the study, everyone was present this time.

Master Fu and Madam Fu sat in the center. The various concubines were seated in order below Madam Fu, each bringing their younger sons and daughters. On the other side sat the elder children—First Master, Second Master, and also the Fifth Young Master and Sixth Miss were all there—along with three older daughters accompanied by their husbands. As soon as Fu Tongwen appeared with Shen Xi, the second floor fell utterly silent.

No one could tell what the master’s mood would be, so none of them greeted him.

The Fifth Young Master, dressed in a military uniform, was the exception. He stood up warmly and beckoned to a servant behind him with a grin. “Bring a chair over here,” he said. “Third Brother, sit with me.”

“You sit—no need to be so formal with Third Brother,” Fu Tongwen replied with a smile.

He withdrew his right hand from his pocket and bowed slightly toward the seat of honor, speaking respectfully. “Father, your unworthy son wishes you a happy birthday. May you enjoy eternal youth and a long life like Peng Zu.” Then he added, “And may our family’s grandchildren be better than me, so you’ll have fewer worries.”

The first part was proper enough; the second was clearly meant as a joke.

A few of the concubines laughed first, trying to ease the atmosphere.

Master Fu let out a deep sigh. “You…”

Then another sigh followed.

Since the day Fu Tongwen had been brought back in custody, the father and son hadn’t seen each other. To say there were no feelings would be false.

“Sit down. Your father may be angry with you, but he won’t stay angry forever,” Madam Fu finally spoke.

She smiled and instructed someone to bring over two chairs. Fu Tongwen had always treated the servants kindly in the past, so now that the master didn’t seem to mind anymore, the maids and footboys didn’t need to be told—they promptly served him tea and snacks.

The opera reached its climax, and the young girls upstairs rushed to the railing, laughing and mimicking the men downstairs in cheering for the performance. On such a day, even the green tea leaves swelling in the cups seemed to carry festivity. Smiles were everywhere.

Shen Xi sat beside Fu Tongwen, quietly watching the show.

Not long after, the Fifth Young Master, Fu Tonglin, scooted over and started chatting softly with Fu Tongwen in a familiar, intimate tone. His mother was Korean, and gentle by nature, which made Fu Tonglin’s features rather feminine—delicate and soft. Yet of all this generation in the Fu family, he was the only one in military uniform. From their brief exchange, Shen Xi gathered that he had been studying at the Baoding Military Academy, but just before graduation, he was disqualified from joining the Beiyang Army due to a fight with a classmate.

The academy ended up assigning him to an irregular unit in the south. Master Fu was still trying to negotiate a better outcome for him.

“Going south would be better,” Fu Tonglin said in a low voice, chuckling. “I’ll find a way to sabotage Father’s plans. Now that Third Brother’s free, I’ve got someone to speak for me. Should I come by your place tonight?”

Fu Tongwen smiled, crossed his legs, and tapped his foot lightly in time with the opera tune. “Be more sensible. The irregular troops down south often go unpaid. It’s best to stay with the Beiyang Army’s main forces.”

Fu Tonglin laughed. “Third Brother, you’re being old-fashioned.”

“I’ve only just regained some freedom, and Father still isn’t over it,” Fu Tongwen added. “It’s best if you come by less. I’d rather you not get scolded because of me.”

Fu Tonglin stood with his boots firmly planted, trying to look composed as he said, “What’s there to fear? We’re family.”

But after making this bold declaration, he gave a sheepish laugh.

At that moment, Sixth Miss Fu Qinghe was leaning on the railing, holding a few coins in her hand, ready to toss them onto the stage as a reward. But instead of throwing them, she suddenly burst into laughter. Turning back, she called out to Fu Tongwen, “Third Brother, look! Just look over there and you’ll understand why Father wanted you to come out today.”

Where?

Shen Xi followed the direction of Fu Qinghe’s finger.

At the staircase, a woman was slowly ascending. She wore a black wool coat, a white fox tail draped around her neck, and both hands casually tucked into her coat pockets. Her features were strikingly beautiful, and her short hair, cut just below the ears, was immaculately styled. She was smiling, yet the gaze she locked on Fu Tongwen quivered slightly.

After meeting her eyes briefly, Fu Tongwen shifted his gaze calmly and looked toward the opera stage.