TYSUF – Chapter 56 Life’s Fourfold Grace (6)

“Get up first, don’t kneel there in that half-Western half-Chinese way.” She spoke softly.

Fu Tongwen unbuttoned his own shirt. He didn’t kneel anymore, but directly leaned over, pressing her into the thick quilt spread across the bed.

“In this hot weather, just looking at this pile of blankets is uncomfortable.” Fu Tongwen clasped his hands behind his back, tossed his shirt to the ground, then went to undo hers. “Wan’an really doesn’t know better, only thinking about bringing in good luck.”

Uncomfortable was putting it mildly.

Earlier that afternoon, Wan’an had specially found agarwood and big Buddha citrons, buried them inside the bronze incense burner, and smoked the brocade quilt with their fragrance. Now, as she lay in bed, an intoxicating scent filled her nose. Even without undressing, she already felt like she had fallen into an abyss of ecstasy.

“Didn’t you teach him all the wrong things before…” She turned her face aside, searching for a way to breathe smoothly.

“You’re wrongly accusing me, aren’t you?” he whispered. “How many courtyards are there in the Fu family, how many concubines from top to bottom? The servants gossip in private—he picked it up on his own.”

That did sound reasonable.

“Tomorrow I’ll ask him, see what else he’s learned.” She was suddenly intrigued.

“He’s just a child—he only knows the surface of things.” He held her hand, kissed the back of her fingers, and laughed low. “If Yanyang really wants to learn, you already have a ready-made teacher right here.”

“I wasn’t talking about that.”

“Oh?” He feigned puzzlement.

“Why is it that whenever you talk, you always stray into being improper…”

He smiled. “There’s no outsider here. Who should Third Brother act proper for?”

He was the proper one, yet also the reckless one.

Fu Tongwen also found the perfumed air too strong, making it stifling. Luckily it was summer—being away from the quilt wouldn’t make one cold. He wrapped Shen Xi in his shirt, carried her to the sofa. The pomegranate-red bedsheet was spread across the dark brown sofa, trailing all the way to the floor. The quiet night deepened. Normally there would be cicadas and insect chirps, but tonight was strange—as if even the insects had agreed to fall silent.

The only sound was the bamboo blinds by the window, tapping once, then again.

Fu Tongwen kissed her lips, and she kissed him back. In the silence, his breathing tugged at her heart.

“Feels like we’re missing a string of firecrackers—not festive enough.” he said softly.

“It’s already so late—” Her words halted suddenly, a sound between “ah” and “mm” bursting from her throat.

She had thought it was just his playful side acting up again, wanting to light firecrackers at midnight. She was about to persuade him not to disturb the neighbors—but it turned out he had other “fireworks” in the bridal chamber. His game scattered her soul, left her defenseless.

Every sound was magnified. The sofa legs scraped rhythmically against the floor.

The fragrance in the air was no longer incense, but the scent born of man and woman entwined.

Her eyes lost focus. The overlapping glow of wall lamps and red candles widened into circles before her eyes. She turned her head, vision wandering to the gilded lacquered tea set on the bookshelf’s upper right, shifting near then far, blurred… She suddenly couldn’t hold back her voice, bit her own hand, glaring at him in grievance.

Fu Tongwen kissed her brows and eyes.

“Turn over—then it’ll be quieter,” he said.

…

Just a floor below, seven or eight men lay in that room.

Before long, one woke, then two vomited. Wan’an and Peide busied themselves in a panic, one speaking Chinese, the other German. Tan Qingxiang was the only one clear-headed, able to understand both. In the end, Sixth Miss also joined the caretaking, occasionally complaining, while sneaking in a few praises about her Third Brother’s good drinking tolerance.

That night, amid the bridal chamber’s candlelight and the raucous sounds below, passed quietly.

Shen Xi eventually fell asleep in his arms, the sheet used as a quilt barely covering her half. Fu Tongwen’s fingers kept gently brushing her shoulder, watching her sleeping face. Outside, sparrows chirped, cicadas sang, and the tram clanged by, drawing near then slowly receding. He half-closed his eyes. In the darkness before him, his hearing grew sharper.

Outside, there were children—a girl, a boy, older ones, younger ones.

His fingertip slid along her collarbone, back and forth…

Shen Xi’s neck ached. She woke from her awkward sleeping position, and as she raised her head, her lips brushed his chest unconsciously, still filled with lingering fragrance. When she opened her eyes, she saw the corners of his lips, curved upward.

He found her chin with his fingers, silently asking as if: Awake?

She kissed his fingertip, as if answering: Mm.

He pinched her chin, fixing her face in place, then bent down to kiss her. This time, though, it wasn’t filled with passion, but a habitual kiss.

He said nothing, still stroking her shoulder, back and forth, endlessly.

“What are you thinking?”

“Me?” He paused a moment, then whispered, “Many things… too many threads.”

“Do you think… I should meet your mother?” she asked.

His father was gone, but his mother was still alive. A marriage this significant—without even informing his parents—was already unfilial. If after marriage she still didn’t formally pay respects to his mother, that would truly be unacceptable.

“Yes, you should,” he said. “Wait until the seven weeks of mourning for Father have passed.”

“Mm.”

After a moment of silence, he suddenly asked: “There’s a Buddhist phrase, to repay the Fourfold Grace. Have you heard of it?”

She shook her head.

“In this life, one owes four kinds of grace—to one’s parents for giving birth and raising, to the land and rivers for nurturing, to all beings whose help we rely on for food, clothing, shelter. These are the grace of parents, the grace of the land, and the grace of all beings. The fourth is the grace of the Three Jewels, which doesn’t concern those outside Buddhism.”

Then he added, “Among the four graces, repaying the parents’ grace comes first. But your Third Brother—this is the one grace I’ve failed…”

Who is right, who is wrong?

Shen Xi was still waiting for him to continue, but he had already stretched out his arms, carrying her from the sofa back to the bed.

Shen Xi buried her face in the pillow, eyes closed, listening to the sound of his footsteps pacing the room—door opening, leaving, returning.

“Eavesdropping without sleeping—what did you hear?” He leaned over, hands braced beside her.

“How did you know I wasn’t asleep?” She hadn’t moved at all.

He gently stroked her brows. “When you pretend to sleep, your brows are unnaturally tense.”

That could be noticed? Shen Xi quickly touched her own brows.

By then, Fu Tongwen had already changed into a fresh shirt and trousers. He rolled up the bamboo blinds, gazing at the street scene outside.

“I need to go to the hospital today,” Shen Xi said, “to see Tonglin. Are you going?”

Counting the days, it had only been two days of rest.

Though Fifth Young Master’s condition had stabilized, and doctors were watching over him, she still felt uneasy.

“Alright. I’ll bring Qinghe in the afternoon,” he leaned against the window, speaking across the room to her. “In at most three days, she’ll be heading north. They should meet once.”

When they arrived at the hospital, Shen Xi changed into her doctor’s coat, leaving Fu Tongwen and the others waiting in her office. She stayed alert, careful not to expose Fu Qinghe’s identity, and first dismissed all the nurses and doctors from the ward.

At last, when only she and Little Fifth Master were left in the ward, she finally revealed with a hint of mystery:

“Today, I’ve prepared a surprise for you.”

Little Fifth Master smiled and asked, “Third Brother came?”

“Yes, Third Brother came, and also… someone else.”

“Someone else?” Little Fifth Master was puzzled.

In just two days, Fu Tongwen had already arranged for Sixth Miss to shed her old identity and secured for her the next twenty years of life. An ordinary person could never have imagined such a plan.

Shen Xi asked a nurse to fetch Fu Tongwen. Before long, the ward door opened.

She and Little Fifth Master turned their heads at the same time.

At the doorway stood Sixth Miss. No longer the wealthy young lady who once wore embroidered gowns and fox-fur wraps, laughing and frolicking atop the opera house balcony, tossing silver dollars from a tray down to the crowd below.

Yet the moment she saw her Fifth Brother, her eyes still lit up with the excitement of a little sister: “Fifth Brother!”

The man lying on the bed was no longer the spirited young officer fresh out of military school. His uniform had been replaced by a drab hospital gown, and after undergoing a major amputation surgery, his face had turned ashen. But when he saw his sister safe and sound, his brown eyes filled with relief:

“Quick, Qinghe, come to the bedside!”

Sixth Miss’s eyelids fluttered, tears spilling down her cheeks as she rushed forward. Before Little Fifth Master could even hold her hands, she dropped to her knees with a thud:

“If it hadn’t been for me back then, you would never have been sent to the front lines… Now Qinghe has returned safely, but your leg, Fifth Brother…”

“This is nothing. Who comes back from the battlefield unscathed?” Little Fifth Master hurriedly tried to reach for his sister. “Besides, this has nothing to do with you. Get up, quickly.”

“Don’t move.” Shen Xi stopped him.

Fu Tongwen also pulled his sister up: “Don’t kneel either. Xiao Wu’s wound can’t be disturbed. Just talk properly.”

Sixth Miss wiped her tears. “Alright.”

While the three siblings caught up, Shen Xi personally went to the cafeteria to fetch a meal for four, so they could sit together for lunch.

But Fu Tongwen was a man of extreme caution. After eating, he promptly took Fu Qinghe away. Shen Xi stayed in the hospital, arranging for the nurses to run a full examination for Little Fifth Master. Two hours later, during her rounds, she also brought along a catalog of custom prosthetics—sent to her by classmates from England and France. She wanted Fu Tonglin to choose a model himself so she could find someone to attempt crafting it.

After they picked a sample, Little Fifth Master’s eyes shone as he grinned at her.

“Sister-in-law,” he teased, “does your hospital not give you leave for getting married?”

Shen Xi blinked, then smiled shyly, cheeks flushed: “I think… it does… I’m not too sure.”

When she left the hospital the other day, she was still unmarried. Today, she returned a married woman. Even she hadn’t fully adjusted to the change.

A nurse came in, saying there was a phone call for her.

She stepped out of the ward, and the person delivering the message said in surprise:

“Dr. Shen, the caller says he’s your husband. Since when did you get married? The entire hospital had no idea!”

“It was yesterday. I didn’t have time to tell everyone.”

Lacking experience in handling such situations, Shen Xi could only nod repeatedly and thank them as the other person congratulated her again and again.

The call had come through the hospital duty room.

Inside, a young resident doctor was chatting idly with a nurse. The radio blared noisily, shaking the air with static and chatter. When Shen Xi entered, the doctor sensibly switched it off, whispering his goodbyes to the nurse. The air was thick with the scent of romance. Pretending not to notice, Shen Xi picked up the receiver, leaned by the window, and softly said, “Hello.”

“I’ve been listening to music for a long time, waiting for you to come.” His voice was low, as though he were speaking right beside her ear.

Covering the receiver with her hand, she whispered: “You’re clever—knew to call the duty room to find me.”

He said, “I figured a busy person like you wouldn’t just be sitting idly in your office.”

“Didn’t you say you’d come for me tonight? Is something urgent?” she asked.

The nurse flipped through a newspaper, pretending to be deaf.

“There’s been a change. Just thought I’d let you know ahead of time,” he replied. “Han’s second son has already arranged the train. We’re leaving at dusk. I need to see Qinghe off, so I won’t have time to fetch you home.”

“So soon?” It was all too rushed.

“Just happened that a train was heading north,” he said. “Lucky timing.”

“Then… say goodbye on my behalf.”

“Alright.”

Silence. Neither hung up first.

“Go on, you must be busy.” She had to urge him.

With the little nurse nearby, she couldn’t say more.

The static on the line carried his soft chuckle to her ear.

“I’d better go too,” she whispered. “This is the duty room’s line. I shouldn’t tie it up for too long.”

“Alright.”

Fu Tongwen hung up. Beside him, Wan’an had already packed Sixth Miss’s suitcase.

To avoid suspicion, she changed back into a maid’s attire. After servants carried her luggage away, she followed Fu Tongwen into his car. By the time they reached the station, the sun was sinking, dyeing the sky blood-red.

Because they were transporting gold bars, Han’s second son had booked two whole carriages bound for Nanjing. He had only just sobered up from his drinking the night before, and after a day’s work, he looked utterly haggard. Removing his glasses, he complained to Fu Tongwen:

“Shouldn’t have drunk so much last night—this headache is killing me.”

He ordered someone to carry Sixth Miss’s luggage into the compartment. “You two siblings, say your farewells.”

All unrelated people withdrew, leaving only the Fu siblings at the platform.

“Third Brother doesn’t have much to add. You’re grown now, you must learn to take care of yourself.”

But Sixth Miss seemed to be holding something inside, hesitant.

“What is it you want to say?” Fu Tongwen could see she was full of words.

“There is one thing…” Sixth Miss faltered, unsure whether to speak. “These two days, every time I saw Third Brother I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid it might not be true—afraid it would harm the bond within your branch of the family.”

“If something troubles you, speak. I’ll verify the truth myself.”

“My mother told me before she passed away…” She lifted her gaze. “My brother, when he was kidnapped back then… it was eldest brother who did it.”

The only person she could refer to as “brother” without qualification was Fu Tongchuan—long since deceased.

Fu Tongwen froze, silent for a long time.

Sixth Miss pressed on:

“After Brother’s suicide, for a few years Father doted greatly on my mother. It was during that time she discovered this matter. But she never found proof, nor any way to seek justice. Later, when she fell gravely ill, she wished to confront Father before she died. She said he was furious, but also guilty. Father said it was an accident, and told her not to ruin the living for the sake of a dead son. But my mother insisted she had not misheard or misunderstood—Father had admitted it.”

Her voice trembled as she finished: “Third Brother, I’m not asking you to seek justice for our branch. Mother and Brother are both gone. What use is justice now? I only want you to be on guard against Eldest Brother. Don’t end up like my brother—dying in vain.”

To outsiders, Fu Tongwen and the Fu family’s eldest master were ultimately born of the same mother. Even if they fought, blood would still bind them. They could not truly sever ties. Fu Qinghe had hesitated until the last moment for this very reason. Yet her greater fear was that Eldest Brother, being merciless, might harm Fu Tongwen as well. So before her departure, she chose to reveal her mother’s last words.

“Tongwen, it’s time to go.” Han’s second son called from the train window.

Sixth Miss, seeing her brother remain silent, grew restless.

“Third Brother heard you.” Fu Tongwen finally said.

Tears blurred her eyes as she clasped his right hand in both of hers, reluctant to board. In chaotic times, every parting might be the last.

“Go.” He urged.

Two attendants helped Sixth Miss onto the train.

The whistle blew. The train rumbled forward. The thunderous clash of steel wheels on rails shook the ground.

The orange-red sunlight lit the train cars, the platform, and also fell across Fu Tongwen’s face and shoulders. His features stood out starkly in the glow, yet in his eyes, emotion lay still—like stagnant water.

Heaven above, Hell below, across both realms—no trace can be found…

Tongchuan—did you, in the end, borrow your mother’s and sister’s voices to finally tell Third Brother the truth?