TYSUF – Chapter 6 Half a Cup of Wine Tonight (3)

Before leaving, Fu Tongwen handed her a new wide-brimmed hat.

But the hat was too formal for her dress. Though Shen Xi thought so, she glanced at his dark brown herringbone wool coat and immediately decided that she did need a wide-brimmed hat—only then would she look the part.

However, his words and the place they ended up going to were—

Worlds apart.

She had assumed it would be a quiet, secluded place. Unexpectedly, it was a cinema filled with gentlemen and ladies.

Standing before a large black-and-white movie poster inside the theater, Shen Xi noticed that the premiere date printed on it was just three days ago—December 28, 1914. It was a new film. She had no idea where Fu Tongwen had been for the past month, yet he somehow knew Cinderella was showing here. Wan Feng had mentioned this story before—she adored Cinderella’s romance—but movies like this were only shown in grand theaters for the upper class, and she never had the spare money to watch them.

“Is the poster that special? You’ve been staring at it for so long.”

Fu Tongwen’s voice came from behind her as he also examined the advertisement on the wall.

This was the first thing he had said since they left the apartment.

“I’m looking at the premiere date.” Shen Xi looked up at him. “You weren’t in New York. How did you know about the latest movie?”

“A friend gave me the tickets.”

Fu Tongwen bent his arm slightly, gesturing with his gaze. Shen Xi mimicked the ladies around her, placing her hand around his arm—but only barely, her fingers hovering just above his sleeve.

“You’ve never linked arms with a gentleman like this before?” he asked in Chinese.

Shen Xi shook her head lightly. She had never had the chance.

Without a word, Fu Tongwen raised his arm slightly, letting her hand settle firmly in the crook of his elbow.

She quietly let out a breath of relief.

The nervousness on the way here was no less intense than the first time she dissected a corpse…

Thankfully, it was over.

They arrived late, but since they were in a private box, they wouldn’t disturb anyone else.

In the quiet theater, the black-and-white images of the silent film unfolded on the screen, with occasional intertitles explaining the characters’ dialogue. Shen Xi found it hard to get immersed. In comparison, she preferred opera—at least with singing, the performances were lively and engaging.

The short heels of her leather shoes sank softly into the carpet. She lightly tapped her heel against the floor for amusement.

Fu Tongwen chuckled. “Feels like torture, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” she admitted freely in Chinese, since no one was around. “Watching once is novel, but more than that would definitely be torture.” She pressed two fingers against her temples. “It’s just black-and-white shadows flickering before my eyes. My attention keeps drifting.”

Still, even though she wasn’t enjoying the film, there was one good thing—

The atmosphere between them had improved significantly.

Thinking back to what had happened earlier in the evening, she still felt a bit guilty.

“Is there anything you’ve never tried before that I could take you to experience? Consider it my New Year’s gift to you.”

Fu Tongwen thought for a moment. “You could buy me some popcorn.”

That was easy enough—except that such an upscale venue didn’t sell it. Maybe… she figured she could find some at a circus.

“Finally not nervous when talking to me?” Fu Tongwen studied her.

Shen Xi nodded, her face growing warm under his gaze.

“Since you’re not nervous anymore, answer me this—do you like this?” His eyes swept over the theater.

Shen Xi understood that he was referring to the movie. “We Chinese people like lively entertainment—this is too dull and monotonous. If…” She glanced at the screen and whispered, “If movies had sound in the future, they’d be much better.”

“Talking movies?” Fu Tongwen chuckled. “That’s quite an imaginative idea.”

Shen Xi thought for a moment, then grew curious about his life as a student abroad. “When you were in London, did you watch these often?”

Fu Tongwen shook his head. “Only saw opera twice. It was boring there. Women only showed up to flaunt their jewelry. As for men—”

The door to the private box suddenly opened.

Two tall men entered.

Shen Xi flinched, startled, while Fu Tongwen’s smile deepened. “This film is about fifty minutes long—Mr. Ulrich has already missed half an hour.”

As he spoke, Fu Tongwen stood and shook hands with the man.

So, the person he had truly come to meet tonight had just arrived.

The box had two rows of seats. Initially, Fu Tongwen and Shen Xi had been sitting in the front row, which had the best view. But after the man entered, Fu Tongwen moved to the back row to sit beside him—where the view was worse, but the setting was more suited for conversation.

Shen Xi remained seated in her original spot.

A moment later, the box door opened again, and the doctor’s voice came from behind. “The air in here is terrible. I’ll have the driver wait outside. Once you’re done talking, we’ll leave.”

Fu Tongwen didn’t reply. Shen Xi guessed he had responded with a gesture.

The door shut once more.

Fu Tongwen and his guest started conversing fluently in English.

“My sister says she doesn’t like this. It seems we are not fated to do business together. You see, in China, this industry is usually controlled by people with… darker backgrounds. It’s troublesome.”

“Mr. Fu, it’s just a small business. If you’re interested, I could give you a cinema. If you think it’s too much trouble, you can forget my offer about the theater,” the other man replied with a laugh. “You know very well—I want to do opium.”

A brief silence fell.

On the large screen, English subtitles appeared—the prince was announcing a grand ball at the palace, hoping to find his beloved.

Shen Xi could hardly focus on the words. Every nerve in her body was tense at the mention of “opium.”

“The International Opium Convention was only a few years ago—this may not be such a profitable business.” Fu Tongwen deflected smoothly.

The man chuckled. “Mr. Fu, are you trying to make me show more sincerity? Everyone knows your government is enforcing a ban, but they have no authority over the foreign concessions. Look at how well the opium trade is thriving in the concessions—your Chinese people can’t live without it. Trust me, it’s a necessity.”

This Mr. Ulrich wasn’t just expressing “sincerity.” He was also revealing his condescension toward the Chinese. Perhaps he didn’t mean it deliberately, but his words were laced with disdain, striking her deeply.

She couldn’t imagine what kind of expression Fu Tongwen had at this moment, but her instincts told her he wouldn’t be pleased.

Fu Tongwen appeared indifferent, draping an arm over the back of Shen Xi’s chair. His fingers tapped lightly, brushing against her spine.

Shen Xi instinctively turned her head, but he noticed and leaned in, his breath brushing against her cheek as he murmured—

“Look, he’s just met Cinderella.”

He was talking about the movie.

But he was also reminding her—to focus on the film and not turn around.

That was easy enough to understand.

Shen Xi quickly sat up straight and fixed her gaze on the screen.

Fu Tongwen straightened as well and continued discussing the opium business with the man. Even Shen Xi could hear the impatience and restraint in his voice. But this wasn’t Beijing—this was a foreign land. No matter how much temper he had, he could only feign civility and entertain the conversation.

On the black-and-white screen, the ballroom scene began. The prince held his beloved close, spinning with her in dance…

She had never wished for a movie to end as much as she did now—not because she longed for the happy ending of love, but because she wanted that loathsome businessman to disappear.

Finally, the movie neared its conclusion, and the lights in the audience hall flickered on.

Shen Xi didn’t care how odd it might seem—she deliberately clapped.

Mr. Ulrich, holding his cigar, clapped perfunctorily.

Fu Tongwen said in English, “A truly beautiful love story, isn’t it?”

Mr. Ulrich didn’t seem very interested. “I suppose so.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you.” Fu Tongwen stood up from his seat.

He extended his right hand, shaking the other man’s hand in farewell.

This meeting had been far from pleasant.

Once the movie ended, they left the cinema.

The driver was waiting by the roadside, bidding farewell to the other drivers in English, wishing them a Happy New Year, before opening the car door for them.

Near the entrance, two advertisement boards had been temporarily set up.

As Shen Xi stepped into the car, she caught a glimpse of one of the slogans.

Fu Tongwen got in after her, sitting two fist-widths apart, side by side in the backseat. He sank into silence.

Trying to keep the mood light, Shen Xi asked, “Guess what left the deepest impression on me from this movie?”

Fu Tongwen turned his gaze slightly, looking out the window.

She grinned and recited in English, “A few drops in your mouth, cleanse your breath, keep your teeth strong forever, and stay far away from unbearable pain.”

“Word for word, right?”

He had seen enough of human nature to understand her intent—she was trying to distract him, to keep him from dwelling on what had just happened.

Fu Tongwen relaxed his expression slightly, indulging her. “When you first came here, you didn’t speak a word of English. How did you manage?”

“Memorizing.” Shen Xi was pleased she had redirected his focus. “I memorized everything I saw —dictionaries, newspapers, even restaurant menus. Like I was possessed.”

Fu Tongwen suddenly chuckled and tapped the brim of her hat. The wide brim dipped down, completely blocking her view.

“Not too bad, then.”

At 3 a.m., Fu Tongwen switched on the desk lamp.

The light beneath the green lampshade was dim.

He dragged his chair to the window, pushed it open, and let the night air blow against him.

“At this rate, not even ten doctors could save you.” Tan Qingxiang shoved a glass of water into his hand and went to close the window.

“I want cement factories, cotton mills, glass factories—yet all they want is to flood China with opium.” Fu Tongwen raised the glass, took two small sips to moisten his throat, and continued, “The whole country is banning opium, yet more and more legally operated opium dens are appearing in the concessions. Where is their God? Where is their hell?”

Tan Qingxiang knew how much Fu Tongwen loathed opium and let him vent.

Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the room—the glass in Fu Tongwen’s hand had shattered from the force of his grip.

“I knew you wouldn’t let this go. At least you finally let that anger out.” Tan Qingxiang wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or annoyed. He ignored the shards of glass, quickly fetched the medical kit, and began tending to the wound.

4 AM.

She lit a candle in the kitchen. The electric light had gone out—not exactly a good omen for the New Year.

Shen Xi had originally come to make some powdered milk to help her sleep. But when she realized the light was broken, she fumbled in the dark for the tin of milk powder and decided to find a candle to investigate the issue.

Halfway through her attempt to fix it, she realized she couldn’t go any further. Some things were best left to the experts.

So, by the candle’s flickering glow, she boiled water. Even wrapped in a coat, she still felt cold, so she cupped her hands around the kettle, warming them. When the water was ready, she found a breakfast mug about the size of a bowl and poured in the milk powder.

Her thoughts drifted to the previous night—the conversation in the private box, the words exchanged between him and that man.

“Is there enough for a second cup?”

A tired voice spoke from behind her.

Fu Tongwen leaned against the doorframe, watching her rummage through the kitchen cupboards like a little mouse emptying out a pantry.

Shen Xi was so startled that the milk powder slipped from her hands, spilling onto the floor.

Fu Tongwen sighed. “Guess that’s a no.”

“…I can give you mine?” Shen Xi pointed to her breakfast cup.

“No need. After all, I made you sit through an extremely dull movie tonight—this can count as your revenge.”

“It’s not—” Shen Xi knew he was teasing, but she still wanted to explain. “It wasn’t revenge—”

Then she saw the bandage on his hand, and her words stopped abruptly.

She didn’t even get the chance to ask before Fu Tongwen waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t ask about my hand. Let’s talk about something else.”

A strange anxiety rose in her.

Was the wound deep? How did it happen? He was fine when they returned…

But the question was stuck in her throat. And he wouldn’t let her ask.

“The first time I arrived in London, I was completely overwhelmed.” He suddenly grew wistful, as if lost in memory, and began telling her about the past—about how he and Fourth Master had gone to London, about everything they had seen.

In the candle’s dim glow, with an injured hand resting at his side, he seemed less like the powerful Third Young Master of the Fu family and more like an ordinary student who had spent years adrift in a foreign land.

If he weren’t a Fu, perhaps he would have returned home and become a university professor —sitting behind a four-foot wooden desk, a rattan chair beneath him. On the right corner of his desk, there would undoubtedly be crystal inkwells, one filled with red ink, the other with blue.

He spoke of the past.

And in her mind, she painted the picture.

She wondered—if he had pursued academia, how would he have been described?

Fu Tongwen seemed to have many faces. Good and evil, loyalty and treachery—ninety-nine percent of what she knew about him came from the words of others. But in the span of this one day and night, she had seen him in many forms with her own eyes. Each one unexpected, yet somehow within the bounds of her imagination.

“I remember you once wrote in a letter that you were interested in cardiac surgery?”

That was just one passing remark in the hundreds of letters she had sent.

Shen Xi nodded, then shook her head. “Half a year ago, I took my professor’s advice and chose an orthopedic mentor instead.”

Fu Tongwen looked surprised. “When I went to California this time to ask about your specialization, my friend gave me the same suggestion.”

What a coincidence.

“When Tongchuan first arrived in England, he studied medicine just like you—obsessed, addicted,” Fu Tongwen lifted his breakfast cup slightly, gesturing to her, “Can I ask for half a cup of milk powder? I’m parched.”

“You already drank yours.”

“Then let’s split it,” Fu Tongwen smiled, took out another breakfast cup, divided the milk evenly, and handed her half. “In medieval Europe, surgery was regarded as a lowly profession, on par with barbering. Back then, the king’s confidants controlled both the nation’s barbers and the surgical guild.” He took a sip of his milk. “Tongchuan told me this. He also loved surgery, but during his years of study, the field wasn’t developing well. Why did you choose orthopedics?”

“It’s more practical,” Shen Xi replied. After all, the challenges in cardiac surgery were, for now, unsolvable. “If I were American, I would have chosen cardiac surgery.”

To solve those challenges, to find a way to stop the heart during surgery without causing fatal blood loss—at present, it was a fantasy. She could have stayed in the U.S. and continued down that path, but how long would it take to make a breakthrough? No one could say.

Maybe ten years. Maybe twenty. Maybe a lifetime.

She wanted to apply what she had learned as soon as possible and return home quickly. Those who wished to serve all of humanity could stay in America—people like Chen Linguan, whose ambition was to advance global medical science.

But her ambition was to absorb Western knowledge and strengthen China.

Yet she didn’t dare say this to Fu Tongwen. She feared that, coming from her, it would sound naïve.

Still, he was waiting for her to continue explaining…

“It’s like,” Shen Xi carefully chose her words and spoke softly, “our priority should be to build railroads, not to buy luxury trains.”

She worried she hadn’t explained clearly and added another example. “Or rather, we need to make sure everyone has enough to eat before we teach them how to appreciate red wine and vodka.”

“Not the most eloquent phrasing,” Fu Tongwen chuckled, “but I understand.”

Shen Xi pressed her lips together in a smile, relieved that she had managed to convey her meaning.

Fu Tongwen took his half cup of milk upstairs. At her bedroom door, he parted ways with her, courteously opening the door for her. “May you have a night full of sweet dreams.”

Then he raised his breakfast cup once more, his smile deepening. “Goodnight, Miss Shen.”

The door closed behind him.

Shen Xi could clearly hear her own heartbeat, syncing perfectly with the soft click of the door shutting.

In her mind, time stood still—the lingering image of him raising his cup and bidding her goodnight refused to fade.