TYSUF – Chapter 40 An Old Friend Returns This Year (5)

The ringing of the telephone saved them both.

Fu Tongwen groped for the telephone wire and dragged the heavy phone set toward them by the black rubber cord. He picked up the receiver and held it to her ear. This was her office, so naturally, the call was for her.

“May I speak to Dr. Shen?” It was Boss Zhang’s second concubine.

“This is she,” Shen Xi replied.

The woman laughed and said she had just been chatting with her husband about this matter. He had instructed her to reserve a table at Xu Garden—both Third Master Fu and Dr. Shen must be invited. Attending the banquet together? If Fu Tongwen was to attend such an event, the one accompanying him should be Gu Youwei, not her. Shen Xi couldn’t imagine what sort of impression they were making over there at the Zhang residence.

“Things are hectic at the hospital…” She tried to take the receiver from him, but he wouldn’t let go.

“It’s all arranged. The invitation will be delivered to the hospital this afternoon.”

The second concubine abruptly hung up, as if afraid Shen Xi would decline.

“You seem close with that concubine?” he asked her.

“Not particularly. Even if she had no personal connection with me, she’d still have ways to get an appointment. People like them always have their means.” It was precisely because these elites monopolized her clinic hours last year that she had shortened the days for public appointments and separated the privileged from regular patients.

“They’re all no good. Don’t get too involved with them,” he said.

He was the one neck-deep in their world, yet he was warning her to steer clear.

Shen Xi wanted to remind him of the tangled web of relationships here. The Qing Gang wasn’t just made up of the well-known bosses like Huang Jinrong, Du Yuesheng, and Zhang Xiaolin—there were even older and more entrenched figures behind the scenes. She also wanted to remind him that his associate, Du Yuesheng, had gotten his start in Shanghai by working in Huang Jinrong’s household, running the casinos in the French Concession. That was how he began his rise. One should never forget their roots. If things ever turned sour, Du Yuesheng would surely show deference to Huang Jinrong.

Which meant that Master Fu’s reliance on Huang Jinrong was no small matter—he couldn’t be underestimated.

But then again, she wondered if she was overthinking things. Most of this information came from the idle gossip of the bosses’ wives and concubines. It was all surface-level chatter. The true complexities beneath the surface—flesh, bone, and tangled ties—Fu Tongwen likely understood far better than she did.

What mattered more now was the matter of his father’s treatment.

“Why won’t you let me be involved in your father’s case?” She took advantage of the absence of others to ask directly. “Can you tell me now?”

“I’m guessing my father already turned you away?” he responded.

He knew?

“Your father was extremely agitated when he saw me—he threw me out of the ward.” That was what puzzled her. “Did I ever do something to offend him? Or is there some other reason?”

“It’s because of me,” he said.

“Because of us… our past…” Lovers?

“These past two years, I’ve diverted much of the Fu family’s assets for myself. Soon, I’ll be taking a lawyer with me to have him sign a final property division agreement in my favor,” he said. “For him to trust you—it’s not likely.”

What he said made sense.

Shen Xi tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So you anticipated his rejection and didn’t want me involved?”

He didn’t reply. Shen Xi assumed that meant yes.

Fu Tongwen could see through all her thoughts.

From the moment he brought his father to this hospital, he had anticipated this very conversation—and he had prepared the perfect response.

He would never let Shen Xi get involved. Not in the slightest. He didn’t want her to one day learn the truth behind the Shen family massacre and be tormented between the conflict of familial vengeance and medical ethics. He couldn’t let her suffer like that. He owed her better—and he owed it to Lord Shen, who had been close to him.

Shen Xi still hesitated. If a patient explicitly refused a doctor’s treatment, she had no right to force her way in. If things were truly as he said, she could only back down. “But speaking purely from a medical perspective—I’ve read your father’s case file. It’s extremely complicated. It’s not just one tumor. If I could join the treatment team, it would be of benefit to him.”

“You’ve read the file. You should understand,” he said. “At this stage, no matter who performs the surgery—it won’t change anything.”

She had to admit, that was true. Given Master Fu’s condition, it would be a miracle if he made it through the summer.

There was a Western-style desk clock on the table. Fu Tongwen glanced at the time. “If you’re still not convinced, you can come with me to the ward and see for yourself how the patient feels about it.”

That was the only option left.

Shen Xi asked a nurse to call Duan Menghe, and the four of them went to Master Fu’s ward.

Because of the unpleasant encounter yesterday, Shen Xi deliberately walked behind Duan Menghe. When the ward door opened, the familiar smell of Western hospital disinfectant was absent. Instead, a strong aroma of traditional Chinese medicine filled the air.

So, the old man, despite seeking help from Western doctors, still believed his ancestors’ remedies could save him.

“Why is there no ventilation?” Shen Xi whispered to Duan Menghe.

Duan Menghe pursed his lips and subtly gestured toward the woman on the sofa—Madam Fu. Shen Xi guessed it was an old-fashioned belief, that wind and light weren’t good for the sick. The room lights were off; only a candle lamp burned on the tea table before the sofa.

A proper hospital room turned into an opium parlor.

Perhaps because of the dim lighting, Master Fu wasn’t as agitated as the other day. He leaned against the bed head, weary and sapped of spirit.

Shen Xi stayed behind Duan Menghe and could only see Fu Tongwen’s back.

He pulled up a chair and sat down by the bedside.

“You’re back, Tongwen,” his mother murmured. The old lady sat upright on the sofa, watching the scene from afar, as if unwilling to get involved in this father-son standoff.

Fu Tongwen took the document folder from Zhou Li’s courier and opened it on his lap. He pulled a fountain pen from his suit pocket. “Before Father came to Shanghai, we had a verbal agreement. Today is merely to formalize it in writing. Once this is signed, I will, as promised, cover all of Father’s medical expenses.”

He handed the pen to Master Fu.

“All I have left are those two properties and some stock. Tongwen, you’ve taken too much. Half your wealth these past two years came from the Fu family,” Master Fu said, his swollen hands trembling as they rested on the white cotton blanket. “Tongwen, why must you drive the Fu family to ruin?”

Fu Tongwen didn’t answer, but smiled and said, “As for the members of the Fu family, I will distribute the family residences across the country according to what’s written in this document, and each child will receive one hundred thousand silver dollars. None of that will be shortchanged.”

This was his explanation to his siblings.

“Father knew very well that if he handed them over to Eldest Brother, the rest of his children wouldn’t benefit at all. It’s better to leave them to me,” he patiently persuaded. “I will still look after my brothers and sisters.”

Each of Fu Tongwen’s resolute “father” rang out loudly, sounding especially jarring in this ambiguous hospital room.

Even though she had seen Fu Tongwen locked up in the family estate by his own father, Shen Xi was still stung by that last “Tongwen.”

Family broken and lives ruined—no one understood those four words better than she did.

In a daze, she saw the Shen family’s plaque, the Shen family residence, the Shen family’s members and servants laughing and joking, calling out “Miss, Miss” to her. A pair of strong arms picked her up—was it one of her brothers? She couldn’t tell. It had been too long, so long that she had forgotten her own family, and could only remember Fu Tongwen.

The man sitting to the right of the hospital bed, with his back to her.

“You’ve sold the courtyard house in Beijing. The Fu family is truly finished now…” Master Fu tried to open his eyes to see clearly this son who only valued money over people, but his eyes were swollen, and all he could see were blurred shadows of white: “Tongwen…”

Fu Tongwen interrupted his father: “In the thirtieth year of the Guangxu reign, I begged you to save Tongchuan. Not only did you ignore his life, but you also locked me up in the estate for three days. The Fu family was already broken back then. Two years ago, I asked you to give Tonglin a chance, but you sent him to the warfront in Yunnan,” he paused, then smiled, “Later, you sent Sixth Sister off to become someone’s sixteenth concubine. The Fu family had long ceased to be the Fu family. Why are you still clinging to that estate?”

Master Fu shook his head, only calling his name, hoping in vain that he would soften.

But Fu Tongwen remained unmoved. He took out a stack of papers from the folder, uncapped his fountain pen, turned it around, and handed it to Master Fu.

Master Fu resisted, pushing his wrist away, unwilling to sign. He knew about Fu Tongwen’s resentment, and he also knew that without the constraint of family property, the eldest and third sons would inevitably fight it out—to the death, perhaps… Master Fu didn’t want that, didn’t want to see his defeated eldest son spiral into ruin, nor did he want the Fu family to perish in his hands.

But in the end, Master Fu still took the pen.

His entire livelihood and health were in Fu Tongwen’s hands. Without him, he wouldn’t have been sent to Shanghai for treatment, and he certainly wouldn’t have been able to get Young Master Duan to personally perform the surgery…

In the ensuing silence, Master Fu gripped the pen tightly, signed several documents, stamped his seal, and pressed his red thumbprint onto the papers. At that moment, he muttered three low words from the base of his throat: “Unfilial son…”

Duan Menghe, who had witnessed the whole scene, was filled with anger and contempt for Fu Tongwen’s betrayal of filial piety, and directly left the hospital room.

Before leaving, he subtly tugged on Shen Xi’s sleeve, but she pretended not to notice and didn’t follow him.

Her heart was complicated too. On one hand, she pitied the old man, but on the other hand, she knew this was exactly what Fu Tongwen had to do. His battle with his father and eldest brother had finally come to a conclusion today.

Fu Tongwen organized the documents, tucked them into the file folder, stood at the bedside, glanced at Shen Xi, then asked his father, “Dr. Shen here is very eager to participate in your surgery. What does Father think?”

Upon hearing the surname Shen, Master Fu didn’t even look up—he already guessed which doctor it was—and waved his hand dismissively, not bothering to respond.

Fu Tongwen nodded respectfully to his mother in farewell, then left the room with Zhou Lixun.

Shen Xi knew that at this point, there was no chance she would be allowed to participate in the surgery. She called the nurses into the room and instructed them on what checks to perform, fasting requirements, and other preparations for tomorrow.

Before leaving, she mentioned the surgery date to Mrs. Fu.

Purely a formality.

At that moment, her heart was filled with turmoil—Fu Tongwen’s father’s illness, the disintegration of the Fu family, and also… Fifth Young Master…

After leaving the hospital room, Fu Tongwen stood at the window at the end of the corridor, his back to the hallway. From his suit pocket, he took out a wooden cigarette case—this belonged to Tan Qingxiang. Knowing he’d need it today, he had asked Qingxiang for it in advance.

The light here was bright and transparent, completely different from the gloom in the hospital room, barely allowing him to breathe again.

He took out a cigarette, held it between his lips, then reached into his inner pocket for a matchbox. Pulling out a match, he focused intently as he struck it—once, twice… It was on the third try that he finally got it. With a faint psst, the flame ignited between his fingers.

Fu Tongwen pinched the end of the cigarette between his fingers and took a deep inhale.

Back then, he had returned to the Fu family estate despite the risk of imprisonment and assassination. Later, he fell seriously ill, lost his lover, his fifth brother went missing, and his sixth sister… In the end, he still won.

It wasn’t an honorable victory. His gamble had always been that his father wouldn’t be cruel enough to kill him. He had exploited his father’s blood-tied affection for him, and he felt guilty. That one utterance of “unfilial son” from his father had scorched a deep scar into his heart—one he would never forget.

Their father-son relationship ended here, once and for all.

Fu Tongwen had often wondered: if he had been born into a different family, how would he view the people of the Fu household? His father and eldest brother were schemers, accomplices to evil, with countless blood debts. When Fourth Brother committed suicide, everyone said it was karma. When Fifth Brother went missing on the battlefield, even more people scoffed. Sixth Sister was forcibly married off and became idle gossip among the upper-class circle in the capital… Some owed debts; others paid them.

People just stood by and watched the collapse—who cared who in your family was good or evil?

Now that the Fu family was scattered, all that was good and bad was buried under the rubble of the fallen house. A hundred years later, all would be dust.

A night of reckless indulgence—he saw through the rise and fall of careers and families.

In the pale smoke curling from his lips, his eyes reddened, and tears welled up from guilt.

Zhou Lixun nudged him with his elbow, teasing with a smile, “What? Putting on a remorseful show now, unfilial son repents?”

His own situation was similar to Fu Tongwen’s. The elders in his family were all diehard loyalists of the Qing dynasty, dreaming of restoration. But he had gone the opposite way. So in his family’s eyes, he too was a disgrace, a disloyal and unfilial failure.

Sometimes, he thought, perhaps someone like Tan Qingxiang, born into poverty, had it better.

The two brothers exchanged a knowing smile.

“I’ve quit smoking for a year, but I’ll keep you company,” Zhou Lixun reached for Fu Tongwen’s suit pocket.

When he saw Shen Xi come out, Fu Tongwen blocked Zhou Lixun’s hand and said, “Wait for me downstairs.”

Zhou Lixun, understanding the situation, held up the file folder toward Shen Xi as a farewell gesture and said while heading downstairs, “There’s still a lot of follow-up work to do. I’m not trying to rush you, but hurry up.”

Fu Tongwen took a couple more drags of the cigarette, pretending not to hear.

Shen Xi was here, and he wanted to stay a bit longer.

The sunlight fell on his shoulders and back, growing warmer. Only when he could delay no longer did he remove the cigarette from his lips. “You saw what happened in there. At this point, you really shouldn’t insist anymore.”

Shen Xi shook her head. “I wanted to ask something else.”

“What else is there?”

“It’s about Fifth Young Master…”

“There’ll be news soon,” he said optimistically. “When he was young, the family had his fortune read—they all said he wasn’t a short-lived child.”

He was comforting himself.

Back then, he had given money to support General Cai, but Fifth Brother had gone missing during an attack by the Yunnan army fighting against Cai. Shen Xi couldn’t imagine how he had felt when he learned of that.

“This kind of thing can’t be rushed, nor should it be. When there’s news, I’ll have someone tell you.” He was the one comforting her instead.

Shen Xi nodded.

He noticed a sheen of sweat on her forehead beneath her bangs, so he bit down on the cigarette, gently brushed aside her bangs with his hand, and wiped away the sweat from her forehead… Doing something like this—trying to kiss her and wiping away her sweat—it was clear what he was thinking, what he wanted.

But this was no longer the past.

“Go on,” he said with a smile. “I’m leaving now.”

Then he added, “If anything I did today was inappropriate, don’t take it to heart. Third Brother is just…”

He lowered his head with a smile, but didn’t finish the sentence.