TYSUF – Chapter 55 Life’s Fourfold Grace (5)

“Just push yourself a little,” Shen Xi echoed his words. “The necessities of life, one learns them quickly.”

Fu Qinghe nodded.

Having already married far away once, she was mentally prepared for leaving home again, not overly anxious—only worried she might implicate Fu Tongwen. “If they go after Third Brother…”

“Is Third Brother someone who can’t handle them?” he countered.

Fu Qinghe shook her head. The one she trusted most was him.

“You’ll be fine, won’t you?” Fu Tongwen looked at the bespectacled gentleman.

“A small matter,” the man replied. “Tomorrow I’ve set the schedule. I’ll call you about it.”

“Alright.”

“Now then, no more business, right?” The idle young masters were growing impatient. One of them simply went into the kitchen and brought out a fresh dish. “Hurry, hurry, we came here to drink wedding wine!”

“You forgot the sesame oil!” Tan Qingxiang chased after him with the oil bottle.

He glug-glugged sesame oil into the dish. Meanwhile, another decided to open a bottle of red wine himself. His technique was so poor that Wan An couldn’t bear to watch. “Seventh Master, just say the word. Don’t ruin our Third Master’s fine wine. If the cork breaks, how will you fix it later?”

“Hey! I do the work for you and still get scolded?”

Everyone laughed.

When the red wine was finally opened, Fu Tongwen poured a little for everyone himself. “We drank too much last night. Tonight, just this.”

“That won’t do!” someone dissatisfied rolled up his sleeves. “Come on, bring out the good wine!”

“He’s not in good health, he shouldn’t drink too much.” Shen Xi blurted out.

“Sister-in-law, don’t worry. If he can’t drink, we can.”

Amid the laughter, the bespectacled gentleman raised his cup to Shen Xi. “Today, according to Tongwen’s generation here, I’ll call you Sister-in-law.”

“Call her Third Young Madam, that sounds better.” Fu Tongwen casually said while shelling salted peanuts.

Under the table, Shen Xi kicked his leather shoes. He dodged away, crunching a peanut between his teeth.

“Alright then, Third Young Madam.”

Shen Xi lifted her cup and clinked with his. Just as she was about to drink, he pressed her cup down. “Sister-in-law likes pearls?”

A question out of nowhere—she wasn’t wearing any jewelry today.

Shen Xi unconsciously touched her earlobes, finding them bare. “Mm, I do.”

“I see.” The man seated to Fu Tongwen’s right clapped and laughed. “We’ve found the source.”

“I said so, it must’ve been for a woman.”

Shen Xi grew even more puzzled, while Fu Tongwen remained calm, cracking peanuts with a faint pop, smiling as he peeled.

What kind of trick is this?

“You don’t know, Sister-in-law. Our Third Master here, over the past two years, has snatched up every valuable pearl you could find in Beijing,” someone explained to her. “By all means—any method, however underhanded!”

“We all knew it was for a woman,” the bespectacled man added. “Today we finally have the answer. Now I can die in peace.”

“What if it wasn’t me… wouldn’t you have asked in vain?”

“Impossible. It had to be Sister-in-law.”

“Just recently in Beijing, I asked Xu Laosi. He said, back when money was being delivered at Guanghe House, Sister-in-law showed up.”

Fu Tongwen drank his wine, ate his peanuts, perfectly at ease, letting them dig into the past.

Shen Xi, thin-skinned, drank two gulps of wine quietly. Her face grew hotter under the men’s teasing, all of them older than her, calling her Sister-in-law with ease, jesting about the pearls.

At last, Fu Tongwen brushed the peanut crumbs from his hands. “That’s enough. Just for today, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Third Brother is protecting his own now.”

“Tongwen, you’ll only marry once, and in this new style too. What’s wrong with letting us have some fun?”

“You’ve had free wine already. That’s enough.”

Fu Tongwen was helpless—he had invited the guests, and even at his own wedding banquet he had to endure their ribbing.

Fortunately, men had many topics, and before long, the conversation shifted.

“You two should at least do a new-style ritual,” someone urged. “At least a hug, symbolically.”

Fu Tongwen took her hand and clasped it between his palms.

That was his way of saying: a handshake will do.

Originally just symbolic, yet he held on for a long while, gazing at her as though no one else was there. “That counts as the rite.”

She softly answered, “Mm.”

Under the light, they smiled at each other—there was indeed a touch of ceremony in it.

She struggled twice, and at last Fu Tongwen let go. All these men who each had several concubines carried on like boys who’d never seen the world, making a ruckus. Tan Qingxiang, not drinking, focused on cooking—but later he too joined the rowdiness, egging everyone on until the entire crowd was drunk. The room was crammed full, bodies sprawled everywhere with no space to lie. Wan An grumbled as he spread out freshly sun-dried bamboo mats on the floor, tending to the young masters.

“No need for you here, groom,” Tan Qingxiang said, picking up his chopsticks to fill his own stomach. “Go on upstairs, to the bridal chamber.”

Then he let out a long sigh. “So envious—heaven’s cursed lone star finally has a wife.”

Fu Tongwen patted his shoulder, offering no comfort.

There was nothing to comfort—it was just his own unwillingness, weaving himself into a cocoon.

They returned to the room. On the desk, a silver dish brimmed with candies. Two red candles burned. The bedding, though not the traditional bright red, had been chosen in a close shade. It was a wedding chamber.

“A bit simple,” Fu Tongwen remarked, surveying it.

“We sleep here every day… what’s the point of putting on appearances?” She mocked him.

“Just when I was going to give you some appearances, you’ve made it difficult for me.” He chuckled.

What did he mean?

Fu Tongwen took her hand, guiding her to sit on the bed’s edge. Shen Xi saw the mysterious smile on his face and thought—he really had smiled so much today. Perhaps this was the blessing of marriage.

He switched off the electric light, then turned on the wall lamp by the bed, dimming the room. “Come, sit a bit to the left.”

He bent down, reached under the bed, and pulled out a leather suitcase.

The candle flames at the tips of the red candles flickered in the night breeze—just like her heart.

The suitcase opened at her feet. Inside were delicate silver jewelry boxes, all custom-made alike. Fu Tongwen, by memory, picked a medium-sized one.

He went down on one knee, like a Western knight courting a princess, facing her. With a flick of the brass clasp, he opened the box.

A necklace of golden pearls, with matching earrings, larger than those he had once given her on the cruise ship. Each pearl was as large as a thumbnail.

The wall lamp glowed to the east, the candle flames burned to the west.

They looked like a young couple privately sharing priceless treasures, joyful yet quiet. Her heart rose and fell with the shifting luster of the pearls.

“Third Brother isn’t a lavish man—except in buying this whole chest,” he said softly. “Because it’s for you.”

“But before you came to Shanghai… we hadn’t even reconnected.”

The guests had said these were bought over the past two years. Back then, how could he have known they’d rekindle their bond?

He fell silent, then after a while said, “You left the Fu family. If you were truly to marry someone else, I couldn’t let you marry as though you had no home. If I married you, these would be betrothal gifts. If another married you, these would be your dowry.”

Shen Xi’s heart ached, her eyes too. She lowered her head, pressing her eyes with the back of her hand. “Don’t make me cry on my wedding day.”

Fu Tongwen closed the jewelry box, placed it beside her, then with both hands gently wiped the tears under her eyes—just as he had once in Rouge Alley. Smiling quietly, he said, “Why do you always like to cry on festive days, New Year’s and weddings?”

Then, teasing softly: “Still a child.”

In his eyes glowed the red candles, and the night sky beyond the window. Under his gaze, she felt she was not just living her wedding night. She was also like a swallow returning home, after mountains and rivers, having found him—having found home.

Fu Tongwen turned her head toward him and kissed her lips.

Light and heavy, deep and shallow—whenever he kissed her, whether with full devotion or half-hearted distraction, he could always draw her soul toward him. The ancients called it “under the flowers and moonlight, the joys of men and women”—this was exactly the atmosphere.

Especially when he kissed for a while, he would intentionally pause, narrow his eyes, and stare at her. She could never tell what he was looking at—her makeup, her face, the bones and blood beneath her skin, or the very essence of her soul in her eyes…

“Why are you drifting off?” he asked softly.

“I was thinking of when you sent me abroad, and the letter you gave me then, saying, ‘Unless necessary, it is best we do not meet again.’”

“Are you bringing up old accounts now?” He smiled.

“No, just recalling our first meeting—it felt like a dream in a garden.”

He chuckled. “How so?”

“I was wandering around the garden, and you suddenly appeared—doesn’t that sound like it?”

“That was the Fu family’s garden,” he said. “Even if someone appeared out of nowhere, that would be you, not me.”

That was true.

She recalled, “When you scolded me in the garden back then, did you ever think this day would come?”

He shook his head, answering frankly: “Never.”

This man—when you wanted truth, he gave you lies; when you wanted sweet words, he became serious with you.

“Keep me company for a nap,” he suddenly hinted.

“No, there are too many people upstairs and downstairs.”

She pushed him away.

“You’re angry at this too?” He grabbed her wrist.

“Aren’t you hungry yet?” She rolled up her sleeves. “Mr. Tan and Wan’an are already busy, no need to trouble them further. Today I’ll serve you your meal.”

“What’s the use of a big man like me being served by you?” Fu Tongwen caught up with her, then suddenly scooped her up in his arms amidst her startled cry, carrying her out.

Hearing the cry, Wan’an poked his head down from the rooftop. “Third Master?”

“Third Master and Third Mistress are having breakfast. Mind your own business.” Fu Tongwen carried Shen Xi down the stairs.

“Oh.” Wan’an quickly pulled his head back.

The staircase was narrow and steep. Afraid that Fu Tongwen might slip and they would tumble together, she dared not struggle and could only let him have his way. After breakfast in the kitchen, Wan’an “chased” them back to the second-floor bedroom, where they slept until four in the afternoon. Wan’an then anxiously knocked on the door to wake the newlyweds. With Fu Tongwen’s suit and shirt freshly pressed, she also searched the wardrobe for a custom dress made in New York—unsuitable for everyday wear, but perfect for today.

Fu Tongwen’s guests were those she had met that night—old friends and classmates of his.

When everyone arrived, they gathered around the round dining table in the first-floor living room. There was no room left on the coat rack for suits, so the men simply tossed their jackets over chairs or onto the sofa.

Shen Xi followed Tan Qingxiang into the kitchen to help. She wasn’t really needed, but she was afraid of dealing with those young gentlemen. Each one had a sharp tongue, and if she slipped even a little, they would seize on it for teasing.

“Tongwen,” someone asked, “you have several mansions in Shanghai, yet you insist on living in this little apartment—what’s the reason?”

Fu Tongwen tapped his teacup lightly on the table and replied with a smile, “This apartment belongs to my wife, not me.”

As he spoke, he glanced toward the kitchen door. A shadow stood there, the hem of a skirt fluttering.

“Living under your wife’s roof—how romantic, Tongwen,” another teased.

Amidst the laughter, Fu Tongwen set down his teacup and turned seriously to a bespectacled man. “If you have time, go north once.”

“Oh? Is there something urgent?” The man’s smile faded.

“Two matters—one official, one private.”

Shen Xi came out carrying two dishes: West Lake Vinegar Fish and Crab with Rice Cakes, Tan Qingxiang’s specialties.

“You’ll take a check and two crates of gold north to Zhou Lixun. The amount is too large, you’ll have to deliver it yourself.”

“That’s no problem. I’ll arrange the trip and train tickets within the next couple of days.” The man agreed readily.

Another chimed in, “Such a large sum—must be for something big?”

Fu Tongwen smiled with satisfaction. “To form an expeditionary force. We also want to send troops to the Western front.”

That was good news. For the past two years, though China had been exporting laborers to join the war effort, there was always the fear that the Western powers might later deny China’s contributions. With an expeditionary force, things would be different.

“Hearing this, I can’t wait to head north—let’s say tomorrow night.” The bespectacled man was elated.

“The sooner the better,” Fu Tongwen replied.

“Call Qinghe for me,” he told Shen Xi.

“Alright.”

Shen Xi went into the kitchen and asked Fu Qinghe to come to the living room.

Wearing Shen Xi’s dress, her long braids coiled up, Fu Qinghe stood by the table, looking still like an unmarried young girl. “Third Brother.”

Fu Tongwen nodded, then said to the bespectacled man, “This time, I used Father’s passing as an excuse to bring Qinghe to Shanghai for the funeral. No matter what, in that commander’s heart, this account will be settled with me.”

“I understand. Qinghe’s husband’s family won’t let this pass easily. Will you run into trouble here?” the man asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t fear anything else. I only worry that if she stays with me too long, her whereabouts will be exposed.”

“Third Brother…” Fu Qinghe’s joy from his marriage faded.

“Listen to my arrangement,” Fu Tongwen cut her off. “I’ll have Master Han take you back. I’ll also give you a letter—when you arrive in Beijing, deliver it to Miss Gu.”

“Sister Youwei?”

“Yes. After marriage, she’s going to France with her husband as a diplomat. You’ve been close since childhood, so you won’t even need my name—your friendship alone will be enough.”

Fu Tongwen handed her the prepared letter. “There’s a check inside. Give it to Miss Gu along with the letter—she’ll take care of everything for you. But Qinghe, you must study hard. If you’re going to live there long-term, you need to learn French.”

He looked at Shen Xi. “In this, your sister-in-law is the example. She learned her English in New York—in less than half a year.”