TYSUF – Chapter 66 Vast Old Rivers and Mountains (4)

Shen Xi’s hands were icy cold. When he grabbed them, her instinct was to pull back. “My hands are cold.”

“Mine are even colder. Want to try?” he said, clasping both of her hands.

All four hands were soaked as if dipped in icy water.

“My fault, I’m used to being reckless,” he murmured, blowing warmth into her palms. “A surgeon’s hands can’t be frozen.”

She could feel the warm, tingling sensation, yet her hands were stiff from the cold.

The proper move was to wait until he felt guilty and trick him back into the cabin.

“Going in?” Shen Xi lowered her voice, pleading, “I can’t handle the cold anymore.”

Fu Tongwen looked at her.

A girl’s cleverness, especially when every little scheme is for your sake, is utterly irresistible.

The four men standing at the door were also worried about Fu Tongwen’s health. As soon as Shen Xi turned around, they opened the cabin door for her without waiting for her to reach out, shepherding the drenched pair back inside.

From the smoke-filled, crowded compartment to the one filled with the steady hum of snoring and children running about, Fu Tongwen kept wiping water from her hair. By the time they returned to their cabin, his white linen handkerchief was soaked through.

Wan An had already prepared hot water, wringing out scalding towels for the two of them.

The first-class compartment had a dressing room. Shen Xi and Fu Tongwen changed into dry clothes. Wan An handed each of them a cup of hot tea and began chattering: “Sir, it seems it’s been a while since you last had a fever. Have you forgotten your own condition?”

Fu Tongwen took the cup.

“Be careful, it’s hot,” she warned.

Fu Tongwen blew on the floating leaves in the tea.

“This trip to Paris… it’s far and arduous. If you keep doing this every day, I won’t be able to take care of you. Maybe you should leave me in Beijing while you go north—I can’t handle it. My heart isn’t strong either. Watching you wear yourself down makes me short of breath—”

“Enough,” Fu Tongwen said, suppressing a smile. “You, child, have the body of someone under twenty but the heart of an eighty-year-old. I can’t take you either. Fine, we’ll leave you in Beijing.”

Wan An was caught off guard, her face flushing red. Panic set in.

“Don’t scare the girl,” Tan Qingxiang sighed. “Look at Wan An, her face has gone pale.”

“Not pale, red,” Pei De corrected seriously.

Everyone laughed.

Shen Xi gestured for silence.

Young Fifth Master, accustomed to the hospital’s healthy routines, had already fallen asleep by the window. His head kept sliding to the left. Shen Xi draped a wool blanket over him and whispered to Wan An, “Help remove Fifth Master’s prosthetic. It’s not good to have it on while sleeping; it might bruise him by morning.”

Wan An crawled under the blanket to undo Fifth Master’s belt and pull down his pants. She looked at the complex leather bindings, unsure where to start.

“Let me do it. Watch closely.”

Shen Xi demonstrated. In the middle, Fifth Master suddenly woke, groggy, and panicked seeing his pants down to his knees. Shen Xi pressed him gently, “It’s okay, sleep now.”

She covered him properly.

“Why is Sister-in-law doing this herself…” Fifth Master whispered hoarsely, “You should’ve woken me.”

“Why be embarrassed?” Fu Tongwen sipped his tea. “Your sister-in-law is a doctor first—your attending physician—then a girl.”

Fifth Master stammered, shy and embarrassed, and chose to continue sleeping.

By the middle of the night, only the sound of the train moving remained.

Shen Xi didn’t sleep deeply. When she woke, she saw her reflection in the train window, along with Fu Tongwen, who was awake too.

“You’re not asleep? Or just woke?” she leaned toward his shoulder, whispering.

“When you wake, I wake. Being together for so long, we’re in sync this way,” he replied.

It hadn’t been long, yet it felt as if they had known each other for half a lifetime.

Perhaps it was because of the connection between the Shen family and him.

Shen Xi moved her legs to stretch slightly. She noticed two small paper bags next to the apricot-red vase and thought of Fu Tongwen’s straightforward demand that Fifth Master enter a marriage alliance. “You’re too hard-hearted, forcing even your own brother into a marriage.”

“Yangyang is just too soft-hearted,” he said with a smile.

Perhaps.

He continued, “A child from an ordinary family who loses a leg would struggle even to find a job. But our Little Fifth lost a leg and still had the chance to go to France, to pursue a career in diplomacy—we’re already very fortunate,” Fu Tongwen said softly. “Our country is in a weak position; diplomacy is even more difficult. When Gu Youwei came back to look for me, it wasn’t only for me personally—she also recognized the network I had built.”

He paused for a moment, then added, “Third Brother has asked for a beating again, and you know, I also mentioned Miss Gu’s family to you.”

“…I’m not that petty. Say whatever you like,” she replied.

“I won’t say more,” he said with a low laugh. “In any case, there’s no such thing as a free benefit in this world. I can pave the way for him, but I can’t carry him all the way—he’ll have to rely on himself. You should get some rest; we can talk about all this on the road.”

That made sense.

For the long journey ahead, idle chatter was the only way to pass the time.

“Both the Beijing government and the Southern government sent representatives to attend. There are five main members: Foreign Affairs Director Lu Zhengxiang, the second seat held by Southern representative Wang Zhenting, the third by the envoy to the U.S., Gu Weijun, and the remaining two by the envoys to the U.K. and Belgium, Shi Zhaoji and Wei Chenzu,” Zhou Lixun reported after arriving in Beijing and gathering further information.

The five representatives, along with a delegation of over fifty people, made up the diplomatic team headed to Paris.

For the Peace Conference in Paris, both the Beiyang government and Sun Yat-sen’s government chose to present a united front to the international community.

In the days following his arrival in Beijing, Fu Tongwen was constantly engaged with envoys from various countries, trying to secure more support, leaving almost no time for rest. On the day he left Beijing, he returned in a hurry, reducing his entourage to the bare minimum—no attendants.

“We’ll take the same train as the Foreign Affairs Director. The fewer people, the better,” Fu Tongwen explained.

“Even without Wan’an, Shen Xi and I can take care of you,” Tan Qingxiang said.

“No, no, I must come,” Wan’an protested. “It’s my duty to keep the young master safe.”

“Go pack quickly. We can’t afford to miss the afternoon train,” Tan Qingxiang said with a smile to calm him. “Just think of it as giving your chance to Peide—consider it a favor owed by Mr. Tan.”

Wan’an felt frustrated, but there was no alternative. Each person took up their respective roles and then dispersed.

Last month, Master Fu had succumbed to severe injuries in a Shanghai hospital. After the eldest son’s death, the matriarch refused to return to Beijing, living alone in the old mansion in Shanghai, forbidding Fu Tongwen from visiting.

The main branch of the Fu family was effectively broken. To outsiders, it looked like yet another instance of “brothers at odds despite all that can be mended”—a proverbial lesson that even a yard of cloth can be sewn and a bushel of grain can be ground, yet two brothers cannot coexist peacefully.

As for the old Fu mansion, it was originally under Fu Tongwen’s name. After the Xu Garden, Fu Tongwen wanted to gift it to Second Brother, but Second Brother politely declined. He could roughly guess Second Brother’s state of mind. The Fu family had once been a powerhouse in Beijing, unmatched in prestige. Now that everything had fallen apart, staying here would be uncomfortable; people coming and going would only invite ridicule.

For Fu Tongwen, gossip didn’t bother him; it didn’t affect his mood.

But this mansion, this courtyard, carried too much of the past. He didn’t want to stay.

For instance, this study where Tongjian had ended his life.

Everywhere he looked were wooden boxes, which Shen Xi had organized over the past few days with her team.

Hearing that he intended to sell the mansion, Shen Xi took the opportunity to sort his belongings. Each box had a label, categorizing books, letters, antiques, and miscellaneous items.

He rested one arm across a bookshelf, holding a letter in his left hand, completely still.

The curtain was lifted.

Wind swirled ashes from the brazier, carrying sparks, forming a tiny whirlwind before vanishing.

“It’s snowing, and heavily too,” Shen Xi said. “Should we leave earlier?”

She noticed the letter in his hand.

Fu Tongwen smiled and waved her over. When she approached, he folded the letter. “Guess whose letter this is?”

“…You correspond with so many people. How could I possibly guess?”

“Gu Yiren.”

It was him?

No wonder he had been lost in thought the moment he entered the room, seemingly pondering something. She wanted to look, but feared that if Gu Yiren had written anything unpleasant, reading it in front of Fu Tongwen would only make things worse.

Shen Xi hesitated, but Fu Tongwen had already placed the letter before her, whispering, “He doesn’t know my address in Shanghai, so this letter was sent directly to the old mansion, just like before.”

He wanted her to read it.

Shen Xi took the letter and slowly opened it. It was blank.

She checked it up and down in surprise, then flipped it over. “Nothing written?”

She even looked for an envelope.

“Yes,” he smiled. “No need to look. There’s nothing extra on it, just like the letters he sent while studying abroad.”

Shen Xi saw that his smile was genuine. She traced the folds of the paper with her fingers, savoring the phrase “just like before.” Having helped Fu Tongwen sort these correspondences, she had seen Gu Yiren’s stack of letters. If it was like the letters sent during his studies abroad, the envelope would have been addressed “To Third Master,” a common but respectful form of address.

Shen Xi opened the blank letter again. Using the same respectful salutation, she left the page empty—reflecting the guilt and inability to write. To Fu Tongwen, this blank letter carried more weight than any newspaper praise.

He watched her with a smile, saying nothing, resembling the letter left blank.

“The envelope? I’ll keep it safe for you,” Shen Xi smiled. “We’ll put it together with the old letters to keep things tidy.”

He nodded toward the bed.

Shen Xi picked up the envelope and put the letter back as it had been, carefully storing it for him.

At noon, Wan An went to Tianrui Residence to order dishes—all of them the ones Fu Tongwen had loved in the past.

It was close to the end of the year, and Tianrui Residence had already stopped taking orders. But upon hearing that Third Master Fu had returned to Beijing and wanted to taste the dishes he used to enjoy, the owner immediately instructed the chefs to prepare them. Within half an hour, the food was delivered from the street near Guanghe Building to the Fu residence.

The four delivery men entered the main gate of the Fu house. They expected to see the usual lanterns and festive decorations for the New Year, but aside from temporary red lanterns hung outside the gate for good luck, the inner courtyard was locked and completely devoid of activity. The contrast left them exchanging glances of surprise.

Passing through the main courtyard, they walked by the servants’ quarters, which were also empty.

Snow was piled along the path, with no one in sight, making it feel as if they had wandered into an abandoned mansion. It was only when they reached Fu Tongwen’s courtyard that they finally felt signs of life.

Entering through the inner gate, they saw a woman standing in front of a folding screen, her back to them. She wore a high-waisted velvet dress and a white fox fur draped over her shoulders, counting items in a suitcase.

Sunlight reflected off the snow in the corridor, covering the ground in white.

The woman seemed to hear their movement. Tilting her head, she smiled: “You’re from Tianrui Residence, right?”

A Western beauty in a traditional Chinese mansion—but a closer look revealed her dark hair and eyes, unmistakably East Asian.

These delivery men often brought food to Guanghe Building and had heard many amusing stories from the capital.

The one everyone loved to gossip about was Third Master Fu’s marriage. Few expected that the Fu family’s Third Master, who had been divorced four times, would marry the girl who had once been married to Fourth Master’s ancestral tablet.

There was no need to speak of her background; this single twist alone had kept the wealthy young men of the capital talking for half a year. Among those young masters, some close to Fu Tongwen deliberately kept the details of the Third Madam a secret.

Could it be her?

Only someone of her looks could match the rumors. Stories of a poor girl raised in a brothel were clearly exaggerated; she carried the bearing of a lady from a distinguished family.

…

Seeing that they didn’t answer, Shen Xi turned and called Wan An: “Is the food you ordered here, Wan An?”

Only when Wan An appeared did the delivery men come back to their senses. Following Wan An’s instructions, they placed each box of food in front of the folding screen and bowed to Shen Xi, hands lowered to the floor in the old-fashioned gesture.

Shen Xi nodded. “Thank you for your hard work.”

The delivery men smiled and stepped back, leaving the courtyard.

Following Fu Tongwen’s orders, Wan An had set up a dining table in the study, arranged the dishes, warmed the wine, and remarked to Fu Tongwen: “The Tianrui Residence delivery men were stunned when they saw the Young Madam.”

Fu Tongwen laughed with pleasure. “Give them a tip, immediately.”

“Look how happy you are,” Tan Qingxiang teased him.

This time, Wan An hadn’t ordered many dishes, fearing that too many would slow the cooking and delay their journey.

There were fewer than ten dishes: braised shark’s fin, boiled cabbage, stuffed yellow croaker, nine-turn red sausage, blackfish egg soup, braised prawns, steamed cured meats, six-spice shredded pork, and stir-fried fish fillets. Each was rich in flavor and fragrant.

“This boiled cabbage is the most famous at Tianrui Residence,” Fu Tongwen said as he served her.

Wan An immediately added, “Don’t think it’s just plain boiled cabbage, Young Madam. It’s chicken broth. They use old hens, ducks, pork knuckle, ribs, and dried scallops, simmered with seasonings for four hours. The broth is then clarified by mashing chicken breast and stirring it into the soup to absorb impurities. Tianrui Residence repeats this process at least three times to make this crystal-clear chicken broth.”

“…You really remember it well.”

“Third Master loves this dish. I can make it too, it’s just tedious.”

Fu Tongwen raised an eyebrow. “You’ve explained everything Third Master likes. How am I supposed to chat with the Young Madam now?”

…Wan An felt embarrassed.

Everyone laughed.

Fu Tongwen, who had dined like this for years, barely touched his chopsticks before setting them down, eating lotus seeds with his hands. He liked small nuts because he ate little food and they were a small comfort. Every time Shen Xi watched him eat, she recalled his old words: Clothing should fit, food should fill; striving endlessly is in vain.

“What are you looking at?” Fu Tongwen asked with a smile, putting a lotus seed between her teeth.

She shook her head. Women often start loving a man and end up with maternal affection—she guessed that was her own feeling now.

After the meal, Wan An brewed tea.

Once this cup of tea was finished, they would need to leave.

Fu Tongwen instructed that the study curtains be rolled up. He leaned against the door frame, drinking tea and enjoying the snow.

Shen Xi knew he was reluctant to part. After glancing at the grandfather clock several times and seeing it was nearly time, she reminded him: “Aren’t you afraid of catching the farewell procession? You wanted to leave for Zhengyang Gate earlier, right?”

Fu Tongwen turned and entered the room. Snow clung to his shoes, leaving a trail of footprints on the floor.

“The last sip of tea, I’ll leave it for you.” He brought the teacup to her lips.

“You even save this?”

She drank from the cup without thinking too much about the tea itself.

He smiled, and after a pause, finally explained: “What night is like tonight, sharing tea in the snow together.”