TYSUF – Chapter 58 Never Forget the Sanzu’s Suffering (1)

After nightfall, she returned to the alley and saw that only the kitchen light was on in the apartment.

Usually, when she and Fu Tongwen were not at home, Tan Qingxiang would turn off all the lights upstairs and keep Peide busy shuttling between the stove and the dining table. Wan’an liked to carry a small stool onto the rooftop during the day, watching him hang out clothes and quilts. Once night fell, Wan’an would tidy up the rooftop, then retreat into his little room on the third floor to listen to the radio—without even turning on the light.

As she guessed, the moment she stepped inside, the sound of songs from the radio echoed in the stairwell. At the kitchen door, two figures were seated at the dining table—Tan Qingxiang and Peide, chatting softly.

On the kitchen table, two newspapers were spread out, with a pile of anatomical sketches scattered across them.

“Are these yours?” Shen Xi asked with interest when she saw that the one on top was a cross-sectional sketch of the human brain.

Back in Europe, anatomical dissection was not widely practiced. Only after this year’s influenza outbreak did Europeans begin systematic anatomical research in search of the cause. She hadn’t expected Tan Qingxiang to already be studying this.

“They were left by Tongchuan,” Tan Qingxiang replied. “He drew them himself when he was in England.”

Shen Xi sat down and looked through them one by one.

Apart from the brain cross-section, the rest were sketches of the heart, lungs, and major blood vessels—all in full color.

“You and Fourth Master were classmates, weren’t you? Then why did you later go to Yale?”

After all, Europe had the fastest development in cardiology. There was no reason to pursue a doctorate in the United States.

Tan Qingxiang was silent for a moment before saying, “That year, when Tongchuan left, I only wanted to leave Beijing—anywhere was fine, except London. London was where I first met him.”

So it was because of Fourth Master. She understood instantly.

Tan Qingxiang continued, “Later, when I corresponded with Tongwen and learned of his weak heart, I thought I should take care of him on Tongchuan’s behalf. So after graduation, I came back.”

Seeming unwilling to continue the topic, he stood up, put on an apron, and said, “I saved dinner for you. Clear the table first.”

“Is it rice cakes?” That was his signature dish.

“As if,” Tan Qingxiang chuckled. He opened the steamer—inside were soup dumplings.

Well, soup dumplings were delicious too.

After dinner, Shen Xi waited past eleven, but Fu Tongwen still hadn’t returned.

After bathing, she lay in bed reading.

This bedroom was looking more and more like the old Fu residence. Wan’an was nostalgic by nature—acting on his own whims, changing the lamps one day, the vases the next—until now, even the bed canopy had been put up…

Suddenly, the door was pushed open.

She instantly hugged her pillow, slid down onto her stomach, and pretended to be asleep.

The footsteps were light. The bed curtain was lifted. The brass hook clinked against the bedframe with a few crisp sounds.

A faint fragrance drifted to her nose.

“If you keep pretending to sleep, the pork rib rice cakes will be gone,” he said softly.

Shen Xi’s eyes flew open. Seeing him crouched by the bed, holding a plate of pork rib rice cakes in his right hand, she was delighted. Quickly, she sat up, took the plate and chopsticks from him, and asked, “You went out to buy this especially for me?”

“I heard you wanted it tonight, so I went,” he said. “Funny thing is, my fourth brother loved this dish, and so do you.”

“The best thing to eat in Shanghai is exactly this,” Shen Xi whispered. “Sometimes hawkers sell it downstairs at night—their stir-fry tastes even better than in restaurants.”

Fu Tongwen chuckled and tapped her forehead. “Even funnier—he used to say the same thing.”

The two of them laughed and chatted, sharing the plate of pork rib rice cakes. When they finished, they went together to wash up, as if unwilling to be apart even for a moment. Back in the bedroom, Fu Tongwen showed no intention of sleeping either. Side by side, they leaned against the headboard, talking in low voices.

Gradually, the conversation turned to the foreign tutor once hired by the Fu family. Originally, he had been employed to teach the young masters foreign languages, but the boys were so unruly and impossible to discipline that he ended up as nothing more than a living ornament in the household. Occasionally, the young masters teased him into speaking a few words of English, and he became known as the “Foreign Parrot.”

Because Fu Tongwen had grown up socializing with diplomats from various consulates, he had learned English early. Later, Fourth Master studied English from him, and after Fourth Master left, he taught Fifth Master as well.

“The textbooks from the late Qing dynasty were strange. A page had twelve boxes—three across, four down,” he explained, tracing the shape on his palm with his forefinger. “Each box taught one sentence. The first line inside the box was Chinese, the second English, and the third a Chinese phonetic rendering of the English.”

“Chinese phonetic rendering?” Shen Xi, who had learned English in New York, had never seen such a textbook.

“For example,” he said, “Tomorrow I give you answer. In the textbook, it was written as ‘Tuo-ma-liu, an-yi, ji-fu, you, an-wu-shi-wei.’”

“What?” Shen Xi couldn’t help laughing. “That doesn’t sound anything like it!”

He sighed. “Later, I just wrote the textbooks myself.”

“You really had it hard,” Shen Xi smiled. “Being both an elder brother and an English teacher.”

“Fourth and Fifth both turned out respectable enough,” he said.

Not long after, he added softly: “Yanyan is also very promising. She studies hard and is no less than any man.”

She blushed at the praise. “My second brother often said, ‘To soar as high as the clouds and fly nine thousand miles, one must first endure twenty years of study by the snowy window and firefly’s light.’”

Fu Tongwen gave a light “Oh?” in response.

“My second brother also loved listening to opera,” she said, looking at him under the glow of the wall lamp. “His temper and nature are very much like yours.”

“The second young master of the Shen family,” he said gently, “it’s a pity I never had the chance to meet him.”

“Before I left home, the last person I saw was also him,” she added.

At that time, beside the carriage, her second brother had told her not to cry or make a fuss. He also told her that from now on, she would have to live alone in this world; even if she missed home, she must keep it in her heart. She had to forget her surname, forget her family residence, forget her elder and younger siblings.

The young Shen Xi did not understand the calamity that had befallen the Shen family, and was confused by her second brother’s words.

Later, whenever she thought of that night, she could never figure out why her second brother, knowing disaster was imminent, had not fled with her.

“Rice cake with pork bones… camel wontons!” Outside, a youth hawking midnight snacks was calling out. As if deliberately matching the mood of this night, he had come by. Shen Xi withdrew her wandering thoughts, glanced at the grandfather clock—two o’clock.

The cries drew nearer, then slowly faded into the distance. When she came back to herself, Fu Tongwen was already resting his head on her palm, his eyes closed.

Sleeping already? So quickly?

Shen Xi carefully pulled her hand back and quietly hooked the bed curtains aside so that the night breeze could flow in. Though it was no longer midsummer, one still had to sleep with ventilation. The lingering heat of early autumn was fierce, and neglecting it could easily leave one drenched in sweat.

Mosquitoes buzzed around. She listened for a while, then worried he might be bitten. She hurried to find a folding fan, gently opened it, and began fanning downward.

With the cool breeze brushing his face, Fu Tongwen was cared for so tenderly that he became all the more at ease. He seemed every inch the pampered young master, lying on fine mats and eating from gilded tripods, idly resting his hand on her thigh and tapping rhythmically.

Who knew which opera tune he was humming in his heart?

…

The days slipped into early September, and influenza spread throughout the country.

The newspapers reported on the epidemic villages: “In a village of ten households, nine families perished. Among ten family members, nine were dead. The poor households suffered the most. Cries of mourning echoed from every direction, unbearable to hear.” Coffins sold out; countless bodies awaiting burial could only be temporarily left at home.

To respond to the epidemic, the Red Cross set up temporary hospitals around Shanghai. The doctors from Shen Xi’s hospital took turns going to provide free consultations and treatment. Shen Xi was among them, and naturally became busier than ever.

By late September, it was time for Fu Tongwen’s father’s Qiqi—the forty-ninth day memorial.

Fu Tongwen’s father had been the head of the Fu clan. His funeral rites should have been grand, with daily opera performances and continuous banquets.

But now the Fu family had fallen. His sons were scattered, living in Shanghai, unable to follow ancestral traditions. In the end, it was Fu Tongwen who made the decision: on the day of the Qiqi, the Fu family members in Shanghai would go to Xu Garden to watch opera together.

Shen Xi thought she would be going as well, and had even prepared clothes in advance.

But later, Fu Tongwen told her that since he was not close to his family, and their marriage had not been made public, it would be inappropriate for Shen Xi to appear on such an occasion. Shen Xi did not feel his words were unreasonable. On that day, she personally prepared his suit and shirt, helping him dress before sending him out.

“Even if you’re just watching opera all night, don’t push yourself,” she said, holding a glass in both hands, sipping tea, then naturally reaching out to straighten his tie. “If you can sneak in a nap, that would be best.”

It was a silly remark, and Fu Tongwen smiled, lightly scratching the bridge of her nose.

“Don’t worry,” Tan Qingxiang spoke up from behind, “Third Young Madam, I’ll be here with you.”

It was just a night at the opera—what was there to worry about?

Shen Xi paid no attention to Tan Qingxiang’s words, nor did she notice the silent exchange of glances between him and Fu Tongwen.

Just as Fu Tongwen was about to leave, a middle-aged man who had been waiting outside entered and whispered in his ear. Fu Tongwen frowned.

“Couldn’t stop her?”

“Didn’t dare stop her forcefully.”

“What happened?” Shen Xi asked nervously.

“My mother is here,” he said in a low voice. “She’s outside, saying she wants to see you.”

“Right now?” Shen Xi was completely caught off guard.

While all the Fu family members were gathered at the theater, his mother had come to this small alley, asking to see her? Shen Xi could not make sense of it, but it was impossible to avoid. Fu Tongwen also knew there was no way to dodge this. He had the door opened and personally helped the old madam into the apartment.

He instructed all the servants to wait outside, then guided his mother to the sofa in the first-floor sitting room. When Shen Xi entered, he closed the door.

Originally, Shen Xi had only intended to send him off. She was dressed in a simple daily gown and stood quietly beside the sofa.

“Miss Shen,” the old madam beckoned to her, “come, sit by my side.”

Still calling her “Miss Shen”?

Shen Xi allowed the old madam to take her hand and sat down next to her.

“You two should start discussing marriage as well,” the old madam said with a gentle smile. “Since Tongwen won’t bring it up, I, as his mother, will.”

Shen Xi was taken aback, but beside her, Fu Tongwen slightly shook his head, signaling her to conceal the fact that they were already married.

“Mm, about this matter…” She paused, then smiled and said, “We’ve been talking about it too.”

“That’s good, that’s good.”

The old madam slipped off the jade bracelet from her own wrist and firmly fastened it around Shen Xi’s. The entire time she wore a smile, but her hands carried strength, leaving no room for Shen Xi to dodge.

Sensing the old madam’s insistence, Shen Xi didn’t resist.

“This was part of my dowry when I married into the Fu family. I’ll give it to you as a meeting gift,” the old madam said, her tone warm when she saw Shen Xi didn’t pull away. “It isn’t a betrothal gift, just something from me, an old mother, to my future daughter-in-law.”

“Thank you, Old Madam.”

As soon as she said it, Shen Xi regretted it. Her words sounded too meager.

But she had never learned how to be a daughter-in-law, nor how to speak to a mother-in-law.

The old madam didn’t mind her choice of words.

Fu Tongwen spoke up from the side: “If mother simply wishes to meet her, I can bring her to the residence tomorrow. Today is the seventh seven-day, the elders of the Fu family are all gathered at Xu Garden. It would not be proper to delay.”

“She should go,” the old madam said slowly. “Miss Shen, you should come along too. It’s rare to have such a chance to see the Fu family gathered.”

Shen Xi stayed quiet, pretending to hesitate, and looked at him.

Since Tongwen had said it wasn’t appropriate for her to go, there must be a reason. But no matter whether the old madam’s words were sincere or not, they carried the meaning of kindness—of wanting Shen Xi to appear publicly in the Fu family’s gathering, granting her recognition.

She had no grounds to refuse, so she tossed the matter back to him.

“It’s better not to take her along,” Tongwen said. “After all, she hasn’t officially married into the Fu family. It would not be proper.”

The old madam shook her head: “In a mother’s eyes, Miss Shen already has a rightful place.”

The mother and son held their ground, neither yielding.

After a pause, Tongwen finally said coldly to Shen Xi, “Go change into something plain. You’ll come along, but don’t speak too much.”

Shen Xi knew he was only feigning indifference, so she didn’t argue and went upstairs.

The living room, left with only the mother and son, fell into silence.

Fu Tongwen stood by the window, saying nothing.

He had anticipated every unexpected situation, except for his mother personally appearing to bring Shen Xi to Xu Garden.

After his father’s passing, the position of head of the family had naturally gone to the eldest. Tongwen knew for certain his eldest brother would be at Xu Garden tonight. He had arranged tonight’s main act especially to await him.

Whether Shen Xi went or not would not affect the plan.

But Tongwen wanted to be cautious. If she could avoid the occasion, it would be best. Yet his mother was too insistent, and her reasoning was sound. If he continued to argue, it would only make him look guilty…

He had no choice but to let her go.

“The residence has many rooms, and it’s spacious,” the old madam interrupted his thoughts, asking, “Why stay here instead? You’re wronging Miss Shen.”

“We aren’t used to being served by so many attendants. It feels too restrictive,” he answered.

Silence pressed down again.

Mother and son, estranged in heart, having not seen each other in a long time, could not find words to speak.

Before long, Tongwen heard Shen Xi’s footsteps coming downstairs. He opened the door, summoned a maid to assist the old madam, and they set out.

He had originally arranged four cars. With the two the old madam had brought, a total of six black sedans departed from Avenue Joffre, crossing paths with an approaching tram.

Thunder rumbled along the way, a sign of rain, but when the convoy arrived at Xu Garden, not a drop had fallen.

For tonight, Tongwen had rented out the entire Xu Garden, closing it to the public. Naturally, it lacked the bustle of their last visit. Though the opera had yet to begin, Shen Xi felt an inexplicable sense of deserted gaiety, as if the music and revelry had already faded away.

Their cars stopped at the main gate. Tongwen had the old madam escorted inside first.

As soon as she entered, someone came to him and whispered, “Third Master, are we to seal off the garden?”

He nodded.

The man said nothing further, retreating outside the iron gates and locking them.

From that moment, every ten meters outside Xu Garden’s brick walls, Green Gang men stood watch, each armed with guns. No one could enter or leave.

Seeing the gates locked, Shen Xi felt a faint unease.

Suddenly, a flash of lightning split the clouds, illuminating the bluestone path ahead.

On both sides, middle-aged men raised dark umbrellas. Shen Xi and Tongwen had barely walked a few steps when heavy raindrops began pounding on the umbrella fabric like urgent drums—loud, forceful, relentless.

Tongwen kept walking silently. Just before entering the theater hall, he raised his eyes to the sky.

“Later… do I need to do anything? Say anything?” Shen Xi asked.

He shook his head, murmuring, “Speak little. Just watch.”

“All right.”

Outside, the grounds were deserted, eerily quiet. Inside, however, lights flickered, laughter and chatter filled the space.

The men seated beneath the opera stage looked just like in the old days—long gowns of satin and silk. The women wore traditional dresses as well. With one glance, Shen Xi felt as though she had stepped back into the opera house of a past birthday feast, rather than Xu Garden’s usual scene.

When they arrived, Fu Da-ye was surrounded by the older generation.

At the sight of Tongwen, the crowd collectively fell silent for a moment.

The two of them stood out starkly—he in a dark Western suit, she in a one-piece dress—like a bold stroke of color intruding upon a late-Qing painting, jarring and out of place.

“Tongwen!” An elderly man with graying beard called to him immediately. “So you’ve come.”

Though Fu Da-ye held the title of head, it was the third son who had organized the funeral rites, paid the expenses, and borne the burdens. Everyone knew this clearly. So when the true power of the family, Third Master Fu, appeared, their greetings grew warm and eager.

The younger generation were all urged forward as well, to greet their third brother, their third uncle, forging ties.

With a faint smile, Tongwen brushed off the chatter, then leisurely pointed up the staircase with his right hand, addressing Fu Da-ye among the crowd:

“Eldest brother, let’s have a word upstairs, just the two of us.”