TYSUF – Chapter 39 An Old Friend Returns This Year (4)

Fu Tongwen unfolded the letter:

“Third Brother, seeing this letter is like seeing you in person. If you’re reading this, it means we missed each other again…”

This was something Shen Xi had left before heading north. Years later, it finally reached his hands. At that time, her emotions, her plans, her nervousness—both what she expressed clearly and what she didn’t—Fu Tongwen could see through them all.

Yangyang…

Shen Xi returned home, and the landlady accompanied her upstairs.

From the scuffle outside the hospital, the conversation drifted to the landlady’s nephew who worked at a bank. She tried persuading Shen Xi to meet him over the weekend. Usually, Shen Xi could politely fend off such suggestions, but today she was in no mood. She brushed her off with a few perfunctory words and closed the door. Since Fu Tongwen had said he had “no appetite,” she too hadn’t eaten much. After seeing the landlady off, she dug out a tin of butter cookies gifted by a patient during the New Year to stave off her hunger.

On the cookie tin was a Western-style painting—an elegant house in a garden.

She nibbled on a cookie, remembering how he once spoke about going to Shandong to buy a Western-style house. A few bites later, she recalled her early days in New York when she was so hungry she rummaged for chocolate to fill her stomach. Later, she wrote to him about it, and in response, received a box of sandwich chocolates—a rare treat back then.

She picked up a glass and slowly sipped cold tea.

Then she set the glass down and snapped off the desk lamp. She leaned forward over the desk and drifted into a nap, sleeping until her arm went numb. By the time she woke up, it was already one in the morning. So late already? She searched for her slippers under the desk with her feet, but didn’t know where they had kicked to while she slept. All she could feel was the cold floor—when the phone suddenly rang, exploding in her ears.

It startled her fully awake. She didn’t even bother looking for her slippers, just grabbed the receiver.

“Hello, this is Dr. Shen. Which patient? What bed number? Or is it the ER?”

A complete reflex. Late-night calls always came from the hospital. In the nurses’ duty room, every doctor’s contact information was posted on the wall for emergencies.

There was the sound of wind blowing into the receiver, like someone standing near a window.

“Did I wake you?” It was Fu Tongwen.

She froze. Her feet were still on the cold floor, still in the position she’d been in right before answering. Just hearing his voice left her motionless for a moment. Then she said, “No, I just… woke up.”

Just woke up—neither too early nor too late.

“It’s been too long since I’ve been in the south; I’m not used to the weather,” he said lightly, almost playfully. “Can’t sleep, so I’m bothering you.”

She tensed up immediately. “Are you feeling unwell? Isn’t Mr. Tan nearby?”

“No,” he chuckled, “I mean I’m not physically unwell.”

Good.

“Today I returned to the apartment and saw the things you left behind,” he said.

Was it the letter? Back then, her mind was in turmoil, focused only on heading north. Thinking back now, that letter exposed all her youthful anxiety and raw emotions. She still remembered writing, ‘I fear that if war breaks out, we’ll be separated north and south—it’s unthinkable…’

As if it were a prophecy—in the end, they were separated. Whatever was meant to happen, had to be faced. No one could escape it.

“It was the row of empty ink bottles on the bookshelf,” he said, unexpectedly not mentioning the letter. “I thought, your internship at Renji must’ve been tough.”

Ah yes, the ink bottles. She hadn’t thrown them away.

At the time, she’d planned to boast about her hard work to him one day, so she had lined them up neatly.

She replied vaguely, “It wasn’t that tough. All those medical records were valuable. Duan Menghe letting me copy them at home was already a big help—I had to put in the effort to repay him.”

There was silence on the other end.

Shen Xi recalled the apartment, remembered the cabinet on the first floor: “I went through that cabinet—sorry, I moved your things without permission. I should formally apologize.”

He laughed. “It’s nothing important, not worth an apology.”

She listened to the wind, wanting to tell him not to stand near the window late at night. She hesitated, then said nothing.

Then he said, “I originally planned to give you that apartment. Everything in there—you’ve always had the right to decide what to do with it.”

The nostalgic mood they’d been trying to maintain was instantly shattered by the single word “originally.”

For someone with lingering feelings, the words “originally” and “once” are the hardest to hear.

Outside the window, everything was pitch black. No lights—everyone was asleep. She sat back down in the chair and resumed her search for the lost slipper under the desk. And just like that, she found it. As if she had been cursed earlier—it had been right there all along.

From the receiver came the soft, vague chirping of insects. That’s right, there was a lawn below the apartment. But it was only early spring—how could there already be insect sounds? How strange. Shen Xi’s thoughts wandered aimlessly, dulling the sting of his previous words.

“I have a morning clinic shift. Unless it’s urgent…” She was trying to find an excuse.

As clever as he was, he clearly understood her intentions.

“I’m just hungry—going downstairs to see if there’s anything to eat.”

“Perfect,” she said quickly. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

After hanging up, it only then occurred to her: how did he get her phone number? Maybe from Duan Menghe, or the hospital, or maybe even the phone company—any were possible.

The next morning at breakfast in the hospital cafeteria, every colleague who saw her pale face assumed she was overworked and started complaining that Vice Director Duan had pushed their best surgeon too hard.

Shen Xi just smiled vaguely, took her breakfast, and sat alone by the window.

Behind her, two resident doctors happened to be discussing the incident from the day before. Since it had happened right on the street near the hospital, they’d both seen the car smashing from a distance. As she listened, Shen Xi’s heart raced.

Duan Menghe sat across from her and got straight to the point.

“Did you meet with the patient’s family yesterday?”

“Yes,” she replied professionally, “but they refused to speak outside the hospital. I plan to try convincing them again today—with you.”

Duan wasn’t surprised. “He got his car smashed yesterday. Probably wasn’t in the mood to talk.”

“You mean—the incident outside the hospital yesterday… was him?”

Duan looked puzzled. “Didn’t you go see him? I heard he even got injured. You didn’t notice?”

Shen Xi was caught off guard.

She had been foolish—completely missed all the signs.

All of his suits were custom-tailored. If anything didn’t fit perfectly, he’d have it altered. In all the years she’d known him, only yesterday was he wearing an ill-fitting coat. Then there was how he leaned on the car door, how he closed it, even his lack of appetite—it all made sense now.

“How badly was he hurt?” Shen Xi blurted out.

Duan smiled. “Weren’t you the one who saw him yesterday, Dr. Shen?”

She was already regretting her oversight. Duan’s words made her feel even worse.

“When is he meeting with you?” she asked.

“He’s scheduled for two in the afternoon, but he’ll bring his lawyer and arrive at the hospital around one to handle some family matters,” Duan Menghe said.

“Make sure to call me when it’s time.”

“I will.”

“Don’t forget,” she added.

Duan Menghe smiled and nodded in agreement.

That morning was Shen Xi’s outpatient clinic shift.

She only had two outpatient days a week, and the patient queue was always long, often running quite late. Today was especially busy. By the time the last patient left, it was already 1:30 PM. She checked the time, grabbed a piece of bread from a colleague, washed it down with hot water for lunch, and finished in a few bites. She glanced at the clock again: 1:40 PM.

Still thinking about Fu Tongwen’s car getting smashed, she couldn’t calm down and wait any longer. She took the initiative to call the hospital director’s office. The secretary informed her that Vice Director Duan was on the fourth floor, in the ward of a patient surnamed Fu.

Didn’t he say he’d call her along? Why did he go alone?

Shen Xi hung up the phone, still unsure what to do, when Duan Menghe called back: “All done?”

“Mm. How are things over there?”

“I’m in my office. You’d better come over.”

Shen Xi agreed, hung up, and hurried upstairs.

She thought Duan Menghe would be alone in the office, so after knocking, she pushed the door open and entered. “Have you seen Fu Tongwen—” she began, but didn’t finish the sentence before seeing the man himself in the room, accompanied by another gentleman.

Feeling awkward, Shen Xi gave Fu Tongwen a slight nod. “You’re here.”

Before Fu Tongwen could speak, the other man recognized her. “You’re… the lady doctor at the dock?” Zhou Lixun said, delighted, gesturing a hat-tipping motion. “I’m the one who picked up your hat.”

Shen Xi remembered his face. “Hello.”

Zhou Lixun glanced at Fu Tongwen and then introduced himself. “Nice to meet you. My surname is Zhou—Zhou Lixun.”

“Shen Xi,” she nodded in return.

Zhou Lixun explained to the two men, “I met Dr. Shen at the Bund dock. She was leading a group of doctors and nurses encouraging disembarking passengers to undergo inspections.”

“I’ve heard about this,” Duan Menghe said with a smile. “Shen Xi went to the city government several times trying to get them to publicly announce the epidemic, but they ignored her. So she came to pressure and persuade me.”

“I did no such thing, Vice Director Duan,” Shen Xi couldn’t help defending herself. “I was just trying to reason with you. You also said it wasn’t a personal matter between us—it was a public one.”

“All right, all right, I admit it,” Duan Menghe said, then added, “Would you like some tea? I’ll brew some for you.”

Shen Xi shook her head. “Let’s get to the main topic.”

From start to finish, Fu Tongwen had been sitting on the left side of the sofa, near the window and bookshelf, quietly watching the three of them talk. Once the unexpected reunion concluded, Duan Menghe moved his chair to the coffee table, gently pushed Shen Xi down by the shoulder to sit, and said to Fu Tongwen:

“Shen Xi has a patient who is deeply connected to the Green Gang.”

Why bring up the Green Gang all of a sudden? Shen Xi looked at both men in confusion.

In today’s Shanghai, businessmen feared being kidnapped and officials feared assassination. Everyone tried to stay in the Green Gang’s good graces. But in the end, they were just a gang. She didn’t see why anyone in a hospital would need those connections.

Duan Menghe and Zhou Lixun explained the situation together:

After the fall of the Fu family, the eldest Mr. Fu had once relied on the Yuan family’s backing and offended many in Beijing. Last year, he was forced to move to Shanghai and sought to connect with a Green Gang boss. Fu Tongwen came south to bring his father to the hospital under the condition that the family property division agreement would be according to his terms.

Before coming, Fu Tongwen anticipated his elder brother might turn hostile and prepared accordingly by befriending a loyal and honorable Green Gang boss.

However, the Green Gang had multiple factions. Currently, Bosses Zhang, Huang, and Du were the most powerful. Fu Tongwen had ties with Boss Du, while his elder brother aligned with Boss Huang. Unfortunately, the French Concession—where the hospital was located—was under Boss Huang’s control.

“So… are you trapped here now, unable to leave?” Shen Xi asked Fu Tongwen.

“Not exactly,” Zhou Lixun answered for him. “We just don’t want to cause Mr. Duan any trouble, so we’re discussing how best to resolve the situation.”

“But the French Concession has always belonged to Boss Huang. How can you resolve it?” Shen Xi started to worry. “The Green Gang is under his command, and even the police force reports to him, both publicly and secretly.”

Her concern grew. “If our hospital wasn’t in the French Concession, this would be easier…”

Shen Xi glanced at Duan Menghe.

She now understood what he wanted from her. The Duan family had always disliked gang involvement, and Duan Menghe was in a difficult position. Judging by Fu Tongwen’s attitude, he also respected Duan Menghe’s identity and didn’t want real conflict.

“We hope to resolve this peacefully,” Zhou Lixun summarized.

Shen Xi hesitated. “But I don’t think the little influence I have from treating a patient will settle this. If it were something trivial—a patient dispute, or handing out a few theater tickets—that would be fine. But this involves the reputations of two gang bosses…”

Fu Tongwen, who had been silent until now, finally spoke: “This patient of yours—what’s her status? Tell me.”

“She’s Boss Zhang’s second concubine,” Shen Xi said. “And she doesn’t seem very favored anymore. She’s quite old. Will that help?”

Among the three bosses, this was the only one who hadn’t dealt with either of the Fu brothers.

Fu Tongwen thought for a moment and stood up. “Let’s call the Zhang residence.”

“You can use my office,” Shen Xi said. “I have the number written in my desk drawer.”

He nodded, following her out.

Back in her office, Shen Xi found the business card and dialed the Zhang residence. “May I speak to the second madam?”

Soon, the second madam came to the phone. At first, she thought it was a small matter and said Shen Xi could just show her name card to smooth things over. But upon hearing about the situation at the hospital gates, she grew uncertain and advised Shen Xi not to risk her safety for a hospital. After all, it was a matter between men—gang matters—and she, as a concubine, had no authority.

Her words were heartfelt and reasonable. Shen Xi didn’t know what to say next.

Fu Tongwen had been listening behind her. When she fell silent, he took the phone and politely introduced himself, requesting a meeting. Upon hearing his name, the second madam seemed surprised and said she would speak to the master of the house.

The call was put on hold.

Fu Tongwen waited patiently. Shen Xi leaned on her desk, listening intently.

“Third Master Fu, I’ve heard much about you,” came a raspy male voice from the receiver.

Shen Xi looked away, picked up a fountain pen from her desk, and started fidgeting with it, no longer listening.

But judging by Fu Tongwen’s half of the conversation, the man on the other end was open to building a relationship—he simply hadn’t had the chance or anyone to make the introduction. The two men chatted pleasantly, discussing the situation outside the hospital, Fu Tongwen’s investments in factories and enterprises in Shanghai, and eventually even the Guanghe House in Beijing and the Xuyuan in Shanghai—

“In all the foreign concessions, there is only one garden like that. As a lover of opera, how could I not know it?” Fu Tongwen said with a smile. “After this is resolved, I’ll personally visit to express my thanks. How about at Xuyuan?”

The deal was thus made, and they waited for good news.

He hung up the phone.

“All settled?” she asked, though his expression had already given it away.

Elder Fu now had neither money nor power—he was merely clinging to others. Fu Tongwen had both and was worth befriending. Even if you ignored the underworld, anyone—Shen Xi included—would have chosen Fu Tongwen over his brother.

She understood human relationships well enough.

Fu Tongwen returned the phone to its cradle. “Today, we’re indebted to you.”

“I only made the introduction,” she said, shaking her head.

“There are very few people in Shanghai who could make that kind of introduction to Boss Zhang,” he said, glancing around her office.

He walked to the window and stood beside her, looking past her to the crowd of rickshaws and people gathered outside. If all went well, they would soon disperse. Ever since they met again, he hadn’t said much, letting his friend Zhou Lixun and Duan Menghe do the talking, even about such a serious matter.

Shen Xi noticed his well-fitted suit today. She wondered if his injuries weren’t as bad as expected, if he could still wear such tight-fitting clothes. She hesitated. “Where were you hurt yesterday? Should I take you for a check-up?”

“It’s nothing serious,” he replied. “Just the car got smashed, no one was hurt.”

“But you were dressed so loosely yesterday…”

“The clothes were dirty. I was coming to eat with you—I had to look presentable,” he said. “I borrowed Qingxiang’s coat.”

Shen Xi’s anxious heart finally settled. It was a relief no one was injured.

From the office next door, someone had turned on a radio. A wall muffled the sound, but it was clearly opera. The melody and lyrics weren’t clear, but both of them were reminded of old records they used to play in their Guangzhou apartment.

Fu Tongwen noticed the fountain pen she was fiddling with—it was the one he had given her. Silently, he took it from her hand.

“It still works well, so I’ve kept using it,” she explained, a bit embarrassed.

In truth, it had broken before. Few people in China could repair fountain pens, and she’d gone through great effort to ask a patient to find someone from a factory. In the end, she was told the internal parts and nib had to be replaced—only the shell could be preserved.

Even just the shell—better than throwing it away completely.

Fu Tongwen uncapped the pen and examined the mismatched nib, quietly revealing her lie.

Shen Xi decided to play dumb and say nothing. He returned the pen to her. As it landed in her palm, he gently held her hand too. He leaned in, as if to kiss her.

Their eyes met.

Her heart skipped. She held her breath and gently shook her head.

Backing away, she had nowhere else to go—the desk was right behind her.

He stared into her eyes quietly, then chose to let it go. He raised his head and placed the pen back in her hand. “I know someone who can fix a Montblanc. I’ll have them send you a card sometime.”

As if nothing had happened, the moment ended with that fountain pen.