TYSUF – Chapter 44 Love Is Not Betrayal (4)

Fu Tongwen arranged a Western-style meal to comfort the young girl, Peide, who had just lost her parents.

But due to the language barrier, the atmosphere wasn’t particularly pleasant.

Before six o’clock, the three of them returned to the apartment in Lihe.

Tan Qingxiang and Wan An had turned off the lights on all three floors, leaving only the kitchen light on. Rarely skipping a meal with Fu Tongwen, they had instead gone to Hongkou to scout the area and bought fresh ingredients themselves. That place bustled with butchers, farmers, and fishermen daily, offering much fresher goods than elsewhere.

Thus, the German girl Peide’s first sight of Tan Qingxiang was of him wearing an apron, holding a pair of black scissors in one hand and gutting a large yellow croaker with the other. In the past few days within the quarantine zone, the two had exchanged several phone calls. Peide had learned that he was a foreign-educated medical PhD, fluent in multiple languages, and in his early thirties—an age when a man is at his most charming.

Hmm… And now? Peide shyly compared their heights using her hand, her green eyes curving into a rare smile—the first since her parents passed.

“This child…” Tan Qingxiang felt a tightness in his chest and went back to cleaning the yellow croaker.

The kitchen was too cramped—if Peide was in there, there was no room for Wan An. It would be awkward if he tried to squeeze in.

Wan An, being tactful, gave them the space to talk.

“Miss Shen,” he greeted Shen Xi warmly from the kitchen doorway, “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Or something else?” Fu Tongwen helped Shen Xi take off her coat and handed it to Wan An. “Go brew a pot of tea.”

“The best one, right? It must be the best.” Wan An cheerfully answered his own question.

Fu Tongwen took off his hat and placed it on Wan An’s head. “You’re quite chatty today.”

“Of course.”

Suddenly, Fu Tongwen took Shen Xi’s hand and, in front of everyone, led her upstairs.

The staircase in the apartment was narrow, making it impossible for two people to walk side by side. So he walked ahead, and she followed, half a step behind. The first-floor light, hanging on the white wall outside the kitchen, cast their shadows on the wall, enlarging them several times over.

Shen Xi recalled that when she lived here, she avoided making friends and barely interacted with the neighbors. The small three-story apartment and the little rooftop terrace had been her entire world. Back then, she had even imagined—when Fu Tongwen said he would come to Shanghai to fetch her—that perhaps they might live together…

“Where’s Mr. Zhou?” she asked upon reaching the second floor, noticing that the room Zhou Li Xun used to stay in was now empty.

“He should be in Beijing by now,” Fu Tongwen replied. “That room is just right for Peide.”

“He left so soon?” She felt regret that she hadn’t said goodbye.

Fu Tongwen followed her into the room and pulled a train ticket from the drawer. “I was supposed to accompany him north. The Foreign Affairs Minister needed someone to make an introduction.”

Shen Xi noticed the date on the ticket. “Then why didn’t you go?”

“Are you asking something you already know the answer to?” he smiled.

She hesitated. “…That introduction to the Foreign Affairs Minister—it’s an important matter.”

“I sent a telegram and entrusted it to Xu Pinhui. You met him that day at Guanghe Tower—Xu family’s fourth young master.”

That person. She remembered. “Hasn’t he lost most of his family fortune these past two years?”

Fu Tongwen gave her a sidelong glance, a smile in his eyes. “You seem to remember him quite well.”

“Your friend… Of course I remember. I barely know a few people.”

“I thought you didn’t like lively crowds. If you want to see him, there’ll be plenty of chances in the future.”

In the future? Such a simple phrase, yet she could hear the lingering affection in it.

Soon after, Wan An brought up the tea.

Fu Tongwen instructed him, “Don’t come back tonight.”

“Understood,” Wan An replied with a grin.

Shen Xi stood in front of the bookshelf, flipping through the books he brought as if absorbed in them, pretending to turn to the next page.

She hadn’t even said she wanted to stay here.

Fu Tongwen sipped his tea.

“I thought the atmosphere between them downstairs was very nice,” Shen Xi said, thinking of the girl, “Tan Qingxiang really is the kind of man girls like. It’s just a shame about Miss Su…”

“Su Qing became my second brother’s concubine. You’d better not mention her in front of him.”

“No wonder.” She understood now.

She didn’t have many friends, but with Tan Qingxiang, they had become closer than most because they shared a secret about Fu Tongwen. They were true confidants. She remembered the first time she met Tan Qingxiang in a New York apartment—he had been teased by a group of rich young men. She had immediately seen that, though they called him friend and classmate, he could never truly get close to them—because of his humble background.

Only Fu Tongwen treated him as one of his own.

Later… she never would’ve expected that the first girl she’d meet upon arriving in Beijing would be the one Tan Qingxiang loved. The top courtesan of Rouge Alley. In the end, even she fell for a rich family’s young master?

Shen Xi recalled Fu Tongwen’s assessment of Tan Qingxiang in that love affair: “A jewelry box—an ATM who gives silver dollars.” Then she thought of the honest man downstairs with one hand holding black scissors and the other gutting a yellow croaker. She sighed for her friend’s path in love.

“That day, he said his mother was forcing him to marry and asked me to introduce a suitable nurse to him. I even told him to try again with Miss Su. If I had known, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“You believe whatever Qingxiang says?”

Why wouldn’t she?

He set down his teacup, came to the bookshelf, leaned beside her, and plucked the book from her hands. “His father was a tailor. His mother died when he was very young.”

“He lied to me?” Shen Xi was surprised.

He knocked the book gently on her head. “In this world, who doesn’t lie? Who hasn’t been deceived?”

“…I’ve never lied to anyone.”

Fu Tongwen gave a deliberate cough.

“I’m being serious with you.”

Fu Tongwen looked at her face, her features. In his memory, she had a soft, oval face, lips red as cherry blossoms, easily flustered whenever teased. Now, she’d grown thinner. He ran his index finger across her cheek—no more softness at all.

He slid the book back into the shelf, leaned in, and brushed his face against hers with a hint of ambiguity. “Back in Rouge Alley’s Shihua Courtyard, when you said you wanted to treat Su Qing’s illness—was that true?” His voice lowered to a whisper. “Yangyang, think about it carefully again?”

Outside, the ding-ding-clang-clang of a streetcar rang past.

Her heart trembled as she stammered, “That… was a last resort.”

“What a lovely excuse—‘a last resort,’” he repeated, savoring her words.

“You’re the one to blame…” she recalled. “You had such a high fever, and still pretended to be fine. If Mr. Tan hadn’t come up with that idea, I would’ve thought you didn’t want to see me one last time.”

“If that really had been the last time,” he said, “I would’ve wanted to leave you with the best version of me. I couldn’t very well let you see your Third Brother crying, could I?”

“Who asked you to cry… I want you to tell me whenever you’re sick or troubled.”

He chuckled. “Only a three-year-old complains to everyone.”

“I can’t win with you,” she admitted glumly. “Even Mr. Tan can lie to people. How can I ever trust either of you again?”

His smile deepened. “You’re pinning his lie on me too? That’s a real injustice to your Third Brother.”

Shen Xi could never win an argument against him—never had.

She laughed in exasperation and pushed at him. One thing led to another, and he pressed her against the bookshelf and kissed her.

At first, it was playful, teasing. But when Shen Xi’s long, silky hair slipped inside his shirt collar, it felt like something piercing through his chest—enticing him. The room gradually quieted, and they gazed at each other.

Not a single word was spoken. The silence was so tender, it made one’s heart melt.

Fu Tongwen held her, and she allowed him to. So they moved to the bed.

He turned off all the lights in the room, leaving only the frosted-glass bedside lamp. Its European-style carvings cast uneven, warm yellow tones, mingling hues so that the light falling on his face shifted and flickered.

Just like his eyes.

His personality was always elusive, but she could still detect its subtle shades. When he joked about physical intimacy, he never meant it—those were performances for others. But when he got serious, he never joked.

At the Fu family residence in Beijing, past the carved gate, the middle hall, into the main courtyard, the left side of the main house had been their place. There was a large bed inside. Only the two of them knew what had happened beneath its canopy. He’d found a way to relieve himself with her legs. From beginning to end, he hadn’t said a word.

That night, the lamp outside the bed wasn’t turned off. His final kiss on her lips felt like someone had knocked over the lamp, setting fire to the red lampshade—and the flames had all burned onto her.

“Let’s stay together from now on, okay?” he asked softly.

The moment he asked, it was clear he was seeking her consent to go further.

Her heart was pounding wildly, and she said nothing.

He laughed.

It felt like that old red glass lamp from the Fu residence was here again, casting red light on his face and eyes. But in truth, all the lights in the room were out. It just felt so hot, like she was on fire—burning from within.

It was her first time experiencing physical love, so she inevitably overthought it. Fu Tongwen was patient, kissing and caressing her. He tried several times, but her fear always made him stop.

Eventually, he had no choice but to get up and fetch a glass of water.

Standing by the window in just a shirt, his back to her, he looked out. Since his health had improved, he had gotten used to sleeping with the windows open—perhaps tired of the days when illness kept every window shut tight and the air was thick with medicine. Now, the open window brought in spring rain, and the streetlights and neon of Xiapei Road.

He put down the cup.

When he returned to bed, he was suddenly very quiet.

They lay side by side. Shen Xi stared quietly at the ceiling. Surely he wasn’t asleep already?

“Back when I was in Shanghai, we didn’t have streetcars yet,” he said suddenly, prompted by the clanging of a streetcar outside.

So he wasn’t asleep.

“Did you come to Shanghai… to leave from here?” she asked.

He didn’t answer.

Why wouldn’t he say?

Another streetcar rattled by on Xiapei Road. He turned over and kissed her. Perhaps it was the rest just now—Shen Xi didn’t get nervous in time. He had already, in silence, passed through the last barrier. He licked gently at her clenched teeth, and as if set ablaze, her throat tightened, and she slowly, passively began to move with his rhythm.

At four in the morning, she woke up.

Surprisingly, Fu Tongwen wasn’t beside her.

She picked up her dress from the sofa, got dressed, turned on the wall light, and opened the door.

All the lights downstairs were out, but there were faint voices.

This late—what could it be?

Not wanting to wake anyone with the sound of her heels, Shen Xi slipped into his slippers and went downstairs. The door on the first floor was closed, but clearly someone inside had noticed her.

The door opened from within. Inside the room, several men were sitting on sofas and chairs—at a glance, there were six or seven. Fu Tongwen, in a suit jacket, sat among them.

He hadn’t expected Shen Xi to wake at this hour. Startled, he smiled and said, “This is Miss Shen, my fiancée.”

Everyone knew that Third Young Master Fu had recently broken off an engagement in Beijing with Miss Youwei of the Gu family, but no one had heard he was engaged again in Shanghai. The room was filled with surprise as the men all stood and nodded respectfully toward Shen Xi.

“Wait—isn’t this…” A bespectacled gentleman peered at her, “the Miss Shen from New York? Qingxiang, is this the one?”

“That’s her,” Tan Qingxiang replied from the kitchen doorway, holding a coffee cup.

The man laughed. “An old acquaintance, then. Miss Shen, do you still remember me? I was the one who forced Tan Qingxiang to kiss your hand back in the day.”

Shen Xi vaguely remembered.

“Fu, looks like you really did turn ‘one of your own’ into your own, huh?” The man, tired of serious midnight discussions, latched onto this rare moment of amusement. “Miss Shen, may I ask again the question I asked years ago? How exactly did you and Third Young Master meet?”

Shen Xi, as always, wasn’t good at dealing with these sons of privilege. Worse, she was wearing only a long skirt and slippers, awkwardly poised halfway down the stairs.

“Gentlemen, let me say this—it wasn’t in Shanghai that he met this beauty by chance. This love story goes back to the third year of the Xuantong reign—”

Fu Tongwen clicked the cap onto his pen and tossed it toward the man in mock threat.

The other laughed and dodged.

“You all continue—I’ll be right back.” Fu Tongwen left the room.

Shen Xi nodded slightly to the crowd as a farewell and turned to go upstairs.

He followed her steps.

Once in the room, Shen Xi let down her guard, and he suddenly hugged her from behind, pushing her down into the sofa.

“Don’t, I’m still sore…” she squirmed, trying to avoid him.

“So… how was it? Your Third Brother, just now?” he teased.

He was joking—he knew full well she’d need a few days to recover from her first experience.

“Mmm…” she murmured vaguely. “It was good.”

“I thought it was… very good.”

“…” Shen Xi felt this conversation was oddly familiar.

First kiss? Yes—he had shamelessly asked the same thing back then.

Shen Xi curled up on the sofa, head resting on the armrest, nestled in his arms. Her fingers idly toyed with his shirt buttons. So this is what it felt like after intimacy—seeing everything about him as wonderful. She could even stare at his fingers for twelve hours without tiring. Just as he once said—wishing they could grow into one body, never separated.

Because separation just didn’t feel right.

Clearly, Fu Tongwen liked holding her too. His feelings were a bit different from hers—more of a “lost and found” kind of joy. Especially during her days in the hospital, when he couldn’t focus on anything else. He had searched the entire apartment, looking for traces she had left behind—trying to feel the days she had spent here waiting for him.

His eyes shone before her like a young boy’s.

Shen Xi smiled with her lips pressed together, gently touched his eyelashes, and lightly flicked them with her fingertips.

He smiled and caught her hand, lowering his head to kiss it.

But after the kiss, he frowned.

“What is it?” she asked, puzzled.

“Your hand has a… strange smell,” he whispered.

Shen Xi froze, then blushed, sniffing her hand to check.

It was clearly the smell of disinfectant. After so long in the isolation ward, that scent would take days to fade. But he deliberately misled her, his expression suggestive, luring her into thinking of more… intimate, steamy things…