TYSUF – Chapter 33 The Third Young Master of the Fu Family (Part 4)

Wan’an guessed that the two of them had quarreled over Fu Tongwen secretly drinking.

She couldn’t explain: “No, he didn’t lose his temper at me like a young master. Don’t talk about Third Master like that.”

Back on the cruise, he had personally promised not to be harsh with her again, and he had always kept his word.

Fu Tongwen was a man of many faces. Whenever something felt off between them, both Tan Qingxiang and Wan’an would say the same thing—that it was Fu Tongwen’s fault, that he had a young master’s temper. But the truth was, he had never been unreasonable with her.

If anything, he was sometimes too reasonable.

Fu Tongwen slept from just before dawn until almost noon without stirring.

Shen Xi hadn’t slept all night. After daybreak, her eyelids grew too heavy to hold open. At first, she tried to keep watching him, but afraid she’d fall asleep, she asked Wan’an to come in and keep an eye on him. Shen Xi lay down on the mahjong table for a nap.

The opium had been burning all night, filling the room with a dense, smoky smell like an opium den. She didn’t sleep well—at first her face was buried in the crook of her arm, but later she turned her head toward the window. Around noon, half-asleep, she heard Wan’an say, “Master.”

She woke with a jolt, eyelids sticky, taking a long moment before she could force them open.

In her field of vision, Fu Tongwen had gotten out of bed. Wan’an tried to help him, but he brushed her off.

He walked over to the tea table by himself and poured some water. His shirt was full of wrinkles, and his eyes were bloodshot, clearly sleep-deprived. He noticed Shen Xi looking at him. When she’d arrived the night before, she’d meant to put on makeup, but he stopped her, so she hadn’t done much. In the dim, ambiguous light, her skin showed blotches of red—either uneven tones or simply the effect of the lighting.

“Go call a car,” he instructed.

Wan’an hesitated for a moment, bowed, and left quickly.

And that was it? No more conversation?

What more could be said? She had already said everything she needed to—context, understanding, and a firm decision.

Shen Xi had been with him long enough to know his temperament well. In matters of relationships, Fu Tongwen was a true gentleman. From the very beginning, he had always consulted her opinions. Even the matter with Gu Youwei—he had told her the truth first. From start to finish, the power had always been in her hands. Now that she had decided to leave, he wouldn’t try to stop her. That was just the kind of person he was.

Shen Xi started placing the mahjong tiles back into their box, the sound of ivory pieces clinking against each other dull and monotonous.

Fu Tongwen picked a clean, unused teacup and poured her a cup of tea, placing it on the table. “I understood everything you meant,” he said.

He sat down and looked intently at her, saying nothing more for a while.

They looked at each other.

He placed his hand on the back of hers and said, “Third Brother respects your decision. Our bond was always a shallow one—let’s end things well. For everything I didn’t do right in the past, I apologize.”

Shen Xi nodded gently, tears nearly welling up.

This was the first time she had ever broken up with someone.

In New York, she had seen dramatic people—some would grab a kitchen knife and hack up every piece of furniture in their partner’s room, scream and curse in a fit of hysteria. That was the foreigners. Chinese international students, by contrast, valued subtlety. Most breakups happened because of arranged marriages back home, compelling them to return to marry someone else. They’d talk things over calmly, cry through the farewell, and part ways for good. She had witnessed more than a dozen such scenes in and around their New York apartment. Once, in the middle of a summer night, she and Chen Linguang walked out side by side and saw a couple—who had just had a farewell dinner the night before—kissing passionately by the door. The girl’s face was streaked with tears, her clothes in disarray, engaged in things unspoken… Later, Chen said the man was going back to China to teach. They were breaking up.

Pledging lifelong commitment first, only to be torn apart by family obligations—such breakups were all too common among overseas students. That’s why Shen Xi once said, “We’ve all lived abroad. Love and breakups are ordinary matters.”

But witnessing something and experiencing it are two different things.

Just like in medical school—students could calmly analyze a patient’s condition, yet never truly feel the pain themselves. They might know which point to amputate to save a life, but once they themselves became the person with the severed limb, it was a whole different experience.

Her eyes felt sore and swollen. She propped her cheek with her hand, lowered her head, and then went to arrange the playing cards.

“A meeting like this, talking about all these heartbreaks and sadness — let today’s words end here. The rest we’ll keep in our hearts. Let’s first get through this year well, then I’ll send you off…” His voice was hoarse as he pushed the tea cup toward her, “Leave some memories for Third Master.”

Shen Xi nodded. Her throat burned fiercely — it was because she was forcing herself too hard to suppress her feelings.

She lifted the tea cup; the cold liquid slid down her throat into her stomach, a clear sensation.

When the car arrived, Wan An escorted her downstairs.

The new day’s business was about to start at Guanghe Tower. The workers busily cleaned the pool and tables, treating Shen Xi’s descent as if she were invisible. The stage was empty; the calligraphy on the pillars on both sides swirled there like dragons and phoenixes.

Last night’s card game, intended to save the nation and the people, matched the phrase “a play on a stage.” The amicable parting with Fu Tongwen fit the phrase “partings and reunions, joys and sorrows.” Shen Xi was dazed, repeatedly replaying his words and hers in her mind, still confused as she got into the sedan chair.

Back in the courtyard, Tan Qingxiang had already changed into a suit, holding his hat, striding out.

He saw Shen Xi and smiled: “Miss Shen, you’ve finally come back. Where’s Third Master?”

“Still at Guanghe Tower.” Shen Xi’s voice was low and hoarse.

“Still there?” Tan Qingxiang was stunned. “Did you come back to get something? Medicine? Or money? Speak quickly, I know where both are. Wait here, I’ll go get them for you.”

Shen Xi shook her head and went inside.

Tan Qingxiang stood there, puzzled.

“They had a quarrel,” Wan An whispered, “Third Master ordered me to prepare the east wing room for Miss Shen to stay.”

“Can a quarrel get this bad?” Tan Qingxiang was suddenly shocked. “Why did you come back? You left Third Master alone at Guanghe Tower?”

Wan An was sullen: “Third Master didn’t trust Miss Shen and insisted I bring her back.”

“Foolish!” Tan Qingxiang turned and left.

At Guanghe Tower, someone was hanging the sign outside the main door, preparing today’s show.

As soon as Tan Qingxiang appeared, an old worker recognized him: “Here to see Third Master, right?” The man said as he led Tan Qingxiang to the first official box, “Third Master loves watching plays, but he hasn’t come down for two days in a row. Sir, please check on him so we can be at ease.”

“Has he come out recently?” Tan Qingxiang asked.

“Yes, he came out and asked for some tea.”

That was good then.

Tan Qingxiang stopped outside the curtain of the first official box, steadying his nerves to remain calm, then pulled the curtain aside and entered.

Fu Tongwen sat in a chair with a teapot beside him, alone at the card table, shuffling cards noisily. Hearing someone come in, he didn’t look up and said, “Go out.”

Tan Qingxiang ignored him and put down the medicine box.

He took out a stethoscope: “Let me listen,” pressing it on Fu Tongwen’s chest, “Quarrels like this hurt for half a month — heartache harms both heart and body.”

Fu Tongwen was silent, reached into Tan Qingxiang’s suit pocket for a cigarette pack, then searched for matches.

At first, Tan Qingxiang didn’t want to give him one, seeing how bad his mood was, but finally gave in. In his early years in Shanghai, Fu Tongwen spent the first part of the day playing cards outside and the latter part holed up indoors, like many patriotic youths, fumbling through the mist toward the future. He overthought things and used smoking and drinking to ease the pain; the root of his current illness began then.

Later, when he resolutely quit smoking and drinking, he acted decisively and made progress.

In times of trouble afterward, he would at most hold a cigarette, fidgeting with it, the scent lingering on his hands. Today, unable to resist the urge to relapse, he lit a cigarette, slowly holding it to his lips and inhaled deeply.

The tobacco’s taste made him dizzy, like cycling through half a lifetime and returning to those years: “Qingxiang, we’re both old now.”

Seventy is rare historically; if he were healthy and lucky enough to reach seventy, he was now at the halfway point. He knew he wasn’t a long-lived man. At this age, he was already considered old.

“How many years do you think I have left?” he asked again.

Tan Qingxiang was impatient: “If you keep this up every day, you’ll be in the ground next year. I’ll have an easy, happy life then too.”

“Tell me the truth,” Fu Tongwen said, “Five years? Or three?”

Tan Qingxiang was unwilling to discuss this topic with him and responded with silence.

Fu Tongwen was silent for a long moment, then said, “Miss Shen Xi asked me to break up.”

“Did you agree?”

He gave a tacit confirmation.

“Why? Because of your engagement to Gu Youwei?”

“I reached an agreement with Miss Gu. She will postpone the wedding and find a better match.”

“Does Shen Xi know?”

Fu Tongwen shook his head.

“You should explain the reasons to Shen Xi. No need to let it escalate to breaking up,” Tan Qingxiang pulled a chair and sat opposite him. “Don’t be like me. I’m a reckless man, and the girls I’ve been with were all willing. But you are different with Shen Xi.”

Fu Tongwen said nothing, silently smoking.

“I’m seriously talking to you. Conversation requires give and take, questions and answers,” Tan Qingxiang urged him.

Fu Tongwen smiled slightly and said, “You and I have both studied abroad. You should understand me best. Among our kind, when walking, we always let the girl walk ahead; when going out, we put a coat over her shoulders, care for her, and respect women as a matter of course… In love, you first ask if the other person agrees. And breaking up, of course, must also listen to her wishes. It cannot be forced.”

“I’m not interested in that kind of empty talk,” Tan Qingxiang retorted. “Be honest with her. I don’t believe she’d leave if you told her the truth. If you two quarrel and no one backs down, I’ll be the mediator.”

“Truth?” Fu Tongwen seemed to laugh, but it was a bitter smile.

“The truth that you and Miss Gu have agreed not to marry.”

He shook his head. “That’s only the truth that benefits me. But what about the truth that harms me? That my father and eldest brother orchestrated the Shen family’s massacre? Should we just not mention that? Only pick the side favorable to me and forget the side that hurts me? What kind of ‘truth’ is that?”

This stumped Tan Qingxiang. Every time he saw the two getting close, he feared Shen Xi would find out about this: “…What if you tell her the truth? She is a reasonable person. Even if she can’t accept it at first, give her more time, she will understand.”

Fu Tongwen laughed self-mockingly, biting half a cigarette, then took out a pistol from behind his waist and placed it on the card table.

What was he trying to do? Tan Qingxiang was momentarily stunned.

Fu Tongwen pinched the cigarette with two fingers and took it from his lips: “If Shen Xi knew the truth, do you think she’d only suffer in pain and toss and turn at night? She is someone who would seek revenge. I’m not afraid she will take it out on me. I’m afraid she will want to avenge her family, and I will be caught in the middle.”

He struggled to breathe.

His chest felt tight, stabbing pain came in waves, but he kept smoking.

“I have shared a bed with her for months but dared not truly be her husband, to leave her a way out, and also because if she had a child, it would force me to marry her now, here in Beijing. I have a deep relationship with her father. How could I let his daughter kneel and bow before her enemy, call him ‘father’ and ‘uncle’? But if I delay marriage, given her love for me, what would she think? She would believe I am insincere, suspicious every day, and that we would part with resentment. But if the truth comes out—should I let her kill my father, or let my father kill her? Or should I help her kill my father? There is no fairness in father-son relationships. My father can want my life, but I cannot harm him.”

Tan Qingxiang had been right from the start—sending her to California was the best decision, but he didn’t do it; on the ship, when his feelings first stirred, if he had listened to Tan Qingxiang’s advice and not sent that letter begging for forgiveness, things could have ended well, but he didn’t.

Before getting off the ship, he planned to take Shen Xi to Tianjin to marry her, to separate her from the Fu family. He had business there, and it was the early Republic era, full of promise. At that time, he was ambitious, believing the early Republic meant a smooth road ahead, he had capital, and nothing could stop him. He believed his checkup results in England were good and his illness not severe; he could recuperate well. He still had the capital to keep the secret and stay by her side. So he told her: follow Third Brother in the future.

After getting off the ship, things turned for the worse. Locked in that courtyard, he hoped Shen Xi would stay in Shanghai and, like before, choose to abandon him. But Shen Xi overcame all difficulties to find him.

That day, frost seemed to hang on her brows. She cried in front of him, nervously taking off her wet, cold clothes, stepping barefoot on her dress, looking at him. Fu Tongwen knew then he must marry her and had been negotiating toward that end…

Fu Tongwen stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray: “My health has been poor these two months. If I truly die, while she, my father, and eldest brother are still alive, and the Shen family’s matter is exposed, how will she survive?”

After his death, Shen Xi will remain Third Master’s widow. When the inheritance is divided, the eldest brother will dig up her background and find reasons to drive her away to seize the estate. Without Fu Tongwen around, who could stop them? If the secret is revealed, the consequences are unimaginable.

It was Shen Xi’s words that struck him hard and broke through his confusion.

Fu Tongwen was grateful she could abandon him. As she said: to come this far was already the best outcome.

Before his chronic illness worsened, before the revolution failed, before he could still keep the Shen family’s secret, it wasn’t too late. For Shen Xi to leave now, as a girl with no backing, threatening no one and cared for by no one, this was the best time.

Fu Tongwen didn’t want to talk anymore. He sent his assistant to Tianruiju for food and ate with Tan Qingxiang in a private room.

When the lights were lit, several guests arrived.

Tan Qingxiang stood nearby, uneasy about Fu Tongwen’s condition. He seemed like an actor wearing makeup on stage, impossible to tell what he truly felt, as if the daytime conversation never happened.

After the guests left, he leaned against the window to listen to the opera “Fourth Son Visits His Mother.” His eyes were red.

When the curtain closed, he said something unrelated to the play, his voice hoarse and weary:  “Good things seldom last, colorful clouds easily scatter, and glass is fragile. Qingxiang, only after living long do you understand this line.”