TYSUF – Chapter 9 Lost in the Play (3)

He did not argue and instead made a “please” gesture with his right hand.

Shen Xi was still trying to find the right words to convince him when she saw his gesture and momentarily froze. Fu Tongwen smirked playfully, unfastened the leather holster from his belt, and revealed—it was actually a dagger sheath. “Is this what you wanted to see?”

She hadn’t even noticed that he was carrying a gun…

But Fu Tongwen had already pulled a delicate handgun from the holster. A silver gun body, a white grip engraved with a small horse. “Browning 1900.” He made a motion as if to toss it over for her to inspect.

Shen Xi was afraid of touching the gun and instead pointed to the dagger. “That one, I recognize.”

The sheath was engraved with Union Cutlery Company. She had a professor who enjoyed hunting and had recommended the company’s knives before—sharp enough for cutting and stabbing, capable of taking down a bear.

Seeing these real weapons, both the gun and the knife, gave her a new understanding of what danger truly meant.

Fu Tongwen chuckled and tucked the gun under his pillow.

“Go to the private deck and have someone make you a cup of coffee, or order a glass of wine, soak in the sunlight over the sea. Don’t wander around, and definitely don’t go to the public deck.” He turned his back to her and started unbuttoning his shirt.

Shen Xi responded with a quiet “Mm,” quickly turning away to avoid the scene that made her blush. She pulled the bedroom door shut behind her.

The private deck was exclusive to the suite and naturally off-limits to outsiders.

Though it was meant for sunbathing, it was actually just a space enclosed by floor-to-ceiling glass panels. She asked the attendant for a newspaper but couldn’t specify what she wanted to read, only saying she wanted to catch up on recent events. After carefully selecting from the available options, the attendant brought her more than twenty newspapers, along with a freshly brewed pot of coffee, and set them down by the lounge chair.

A pure silver coffee pot and cup, matching as a set. Even with twenty newspapers in hand, she only lasted thirty minutes before she was overwhelmed.

Finally, she placed a newspaper over her face and fell into a deep sleep.

In her dream, it was a joyous occasion.

Her second brother had taken her to see the grand preparations for their old housekeeper’s son’s wedding. Though it was a modest household, everything necessary was meticulously arranged—chickens slaughtered, fish cleaned, pigs butchered, and sheep prepared. People carried in over a dozen loads of dowry into the courtyard. From bowls and chopsticks to pillows, bedding, vanity tables, and a beautifully carved wedding bed, the dazzling array left her eyes wide in amazement.

Her second brother held her small hand and guided her to touch the red silk ribbons tied to each piece of the dowry. “One day, when Yangyang gets married, I’ll prepare all this for you too,” he said, lifting her into his arms despite her already being six years old. “By then, I’ll empty out all of Guangzhou for you. Everything your eyes land on will be yours.”

In her sleep, Shen Xi’s breathing quickened, and the hands resting on her chest curled into fists.

The newspaper covering her face rustled with each breath.

A hand reached out and lifted the paper that had been blocking the light.

“Shen Xi.”

She was abruptly pulled from her memories. The moment she opened her eyes, it was as if she were a drowning person, desperately searching for the onlookers at the shore.

The golden glow of the setting sun was cut into sections by the glass panels, framing each window with a gilded edge. He was wearing black-framed glasses, and through the lenses, she could see the faint red veins in his eyes.

He stood against the light, looking down at her.

“Third…” Third Master or Third Brother? The dream’s confusion clogged her throat.

A wave of emotion surged inside her, and Shen Xi felt her eyes heat up uncontrollably. She panicked, pressing her hands over them. “Sorry, Third Brother…”

The days and nights of the Shen family were untouchable—like a structure long reduced to ashes by fire, collapsing instantly at the slightest touch, burying her underneath.

A neatly folded handkerchief was handed to her. “I should be the one to apologize. You slept for quite a long time.”

It was indeed a long time.

The ship had departed in the morning, and she only woke up at sunset.

Shen Xi shook her head, returning the handkerchief to him. Her gaze remained fixed on the collar of his shirt, never daring to look at his face. Fu Tongwen knew she was avoiding his eyes, afraid he’d see the tears in them. He bent down to pick up the scattered newspapers on the floor, carefully folding them one by one and placing them on the wicker side table next to the lounge chair, giving her the chance to wipe away her tears.

Shen Xi watched his back and hurriedly wiped her face.

“Qingxiang has already urged us three times. If we don’t go soon, he’ll surely make fun of us.”

Shen Xi ran her hands through her hair, smoothing it back, checking the ribbon that held her long hair in place—it was still secure.

“I feel like eating lamb chops.” She smiled.

“Alright, Third Brother will remember that.” Fu Tongwen smiled faintly with his back to her, slipping one hand into his trouser pocket as he walked toward the door.

From the moment he started gathering the newspapers, he hadn’t looked at her again.

How could a man understand women so well?

Shen Xi hurried to catch up with him.

They entered the restaurant through a revolving door.

She was following too closely and stepped into the same partition as Fu Tongwen. It was meant for one person, but now it was occupied by two. Arm pressed against arm, chest against back.

Shen Xi forced herself to stare at the misty glass until they walked fully into the restaurant, finally exhaling in relief.

Dr. Tan was leaning against a table, absentmindedly flipping through a newspaper. Upon seeing them, he immediately folded it and handed it to the attendant behind him. “You two together—looks like you need a chaperone.”

“My fault,” Fu Tongwen took the blame with a smile as he sat down. “Have you ordered yet?”

“Third Master is so picky, I wouldn’t dare order for you.”

As they bantered, a well-dressed young man stepped past two tables and approached uninvited. In this restaurant, aside from the three of them, he was the only other Asian face.

“Master Fu.” The young man gave a slight bow, greeting them with a smile.

Fu Tongwen looked up, sizing him up. “And you are?”

The man didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he gestured for the waiter to pull out an empty chair. He sat down with ease. “Third Master, you must meet so many people that you forget. But do you still remember this?” Leaning in slightly, he hummed a few lines in a near-whisper:

“These flowers and plants are left for people to love, life and death left to their own wishes, even sorrow and bitterness leave no one to blame~”

It was from The Peony Pavilion.

Fu Tongwen smiled but did not acknowledge him.

“Third Master, does it sound familiar?” The man didn’t seem the least bit discouraged.

Fu Tongwen picked up the silver coffee pot the waiter had placed down and poured half a cup for Shen Xi, silently acknowledging the man’s presence.

“And how familiar?” the man pressed with a grin.

Shen Xi wanted to laugh. Was he treating this like ordering steak—medium or well-done?

“At most, three parts familiar,” Fu Tongwen finally spoke.

The man immediately cupped his hands together, smiling in flattery. “To have Third Master find me three parts familiar—what an honor for Maoqing.”

Shen Xi didn’t like his slick, worldly ways. Propping her chin up with one hand, she played idly with the edge of the tablecloth under the table with the other, twisting it into a thin strand, then letting go—repeating the motion over and over for her own amusement.

The waiter handed them menus.

Fu Tongwen took one and placed it in front of Shen Xi, tapping it lightly with two fingers. “Pick whatever you like.”

Shen Xi nodded, letting her gaze wander over the list of dishes.

With this uninvited guest, dinner was far from enjoyable.

That Maoqing, who claimed his surname was Cai, shamelessly stuck around. Even Dr. Tan, who was usually aloof, started chatting with him. Normally, Dr. Tan wasn’t the type to make small talk, but tonight, he seemed unusually warm.

Shen Xi found him irritating—she rarely disliked someone this much.

When the four of them reached the first-class cabins, Dr. Tan suddenly stopped. “Come with me to grab something. I’m too lazy to have it sent up.”

Fu Tongwen had been asleep all day and wasn’t in a rush to return to his room, so he went along.

Cai Maoqing followed Dr. Tan inside, glancing around and sighing, “This is heaven—three months of paradise. Even Third Master’s doctor lives like this. Maoqing is jealous.”

Fu Tongwen leaned against the doorframe, also surveying the room.

Dr. Tan rummaged through the room and pulled out a small bag. He emptied it—inside were two bottles of medicine. He handed them to Shen Xi.

“That’s it? We came all the way here just for this?”

“Oh, right, one more thing. Go look inside for a binaural stethoscope. I think the one in your room is broken.”

That was important. Before Dr. Tan could say more, she had already stepped inside.

“It’s in the bedside cabinet, second drawer. Right hand side,” Dr. Tan called out from the sitting room.

“I got it.” She called back loudly.

Although this bedroom was much smaller than the first-class cabin, the layout was largely the same. She found the cabinet that Tan Qingxiang had mentioned. Inside the bottom drawer, there was a scalpel wrapped in white cloth and a notebook. She flipped through the pages—it was filled with medical notes. But aside from these, the item he had spoken of was nowhere to be found.

“Are you sure it’s here, Mr. Tan?”

There was no response from outside.

“Mr. Tan? Why don’t you come in and find it for me?” Shen Xi carefully rewrapped the scalpel.

A loud, heavy crash sounded—a dull impact, the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the floor.

Shen Xi didn’t have time to think. She rushed to the door, and the scene before her left her stunned.

Fu Tongwen was pale, his back pressed against the wall, gasping for breath. Dr. Tan and that man named Cai had collapsed onto the floor in a struggle. Shen Xi’s scream was already at her throat when Fu Tongwen lunged forward, covering the lower half of her face with his right hand.

“Don’t—call for help.”

He weakly slumped against her.

The man suddenly flipped Dr. Tan over, his fingers locking around Tan Qingxiang’s throat.

Fu Tongwen braced his elbow against the wall, his complexion worsening. His other hand reached out blindly toward Shen Xi’s face, trembling, as if he wanted to speak but had no strength left.

In that split second, she snapped to her senses.

The knife—the scalpel.

She stumbled back into the bedroom, her vision blurring with flashes of white from sheer panic. Her hands groped frantically for the cloth-wrapped scalpel before she rushed back out.

Dr. Tan mustered all his strength and kicked the man, sending him crashing into the table. In that moment, the man before her was no longer a person—he was a cadaver on a dissection table. She knew exactly where his heart was.

The scalpel plunged in, but her hands trembled.

The man let out a roar of agony, his body twisting violently as he knocked Shen Xi away.

She slammed hard into the wooden wall. Dr. Tan lunged forward, gripping the scalpel embedded in the man’s chest and driving it in to the hilt.

Shen Xi bit down on her own hand, forcing herself to suppress her screams and stay calm.

She watched as the man struggled and collapsed. The angle, the depth—there was no coming back from this. Even the best cardiologist in the world wouldn’t be able to save him now.

Dr. Tan’s hands were covered in blood. He took a deep breath and leaned against the table, composing himself after a few seconds.

He then went to help Fu Tongwen, lifting him off the wall and supporting him into a chair. Moving swiftly, he found medicine, wiped his hands clean with a fresh shirt, poured out some pills, and shoved them into Fu Tongwen’s mouth, tilting his head back to make him swallow with water.

Shen Xi watched his every movement, her body still numb and trembling.

She wasn’t afraid of dead bodies. Whether in the opium den or in New York, she had seen too many corpses.

She wasn’t afraid of cutting into human flesh either.

But this was different… She had killed someone. She had done it with her own hands.

She was a doctor—not an executioner.

For a fleeting moment, she had hesitated. But in the end, she had chosen to stand on his side.

Fu Tongwen leaned on the table, his face drained of color, his eyes filled with worry.

Tan Qingxiang had sent Shen Xi into the room to keep her away from this, but this man had been harder to deal with than expected. Fu Tongwen himself was a liability in his current state, and Tan Qingxiang wasn’t trained for combat…

“Tongwen?” Tan Qingxiang reached out to check his pulse.

Fu Tongwen shook his head. He knew his own condition.

Twenty long minutes passed.

Shen Xi leaned against the wall, her head lowered, vision clouded with mist.

Tan Qingxiang watched her silently, worried she might faint or break down—after all, this was her first time.

But Shen Xi was stronger than he had expected.

At that moment, he was immensely grateful for this girl.

Her knowledge had saved them all.

Fu Tongwen had regained some strength. Silently, he unbuttoned his suit jacket, struggling slightly as he took it off and tossed it onto the table. Bracing himself against the table, he stood up and walked toward Shen Xi.

Without a word, he reached out his hands to her.

That simple gesture was like the tolling of a great bell in the dead of night—shattering the darkness, shattering the last remnants of her composure. Tears welled in her eyes as she threw herself into his arms, overwhelmed and lost.

The blood on her hands smeared messily onto the sleeves, the crook of his arm, and the back of his shirt.

“Don’t feel guilty.” Fu Tongwen’s right hand pressed against the back of her head, pulling her closer. “He wasn’t innocent.”

He and Tan Qingxiang never believed in coincidences.

That man had seen him in Beijing, yet somehow ended up boarding the same ship in New York? There was no such thing as fate in this world. That was why, with just a glance, he and Tan Qingxiang understood each other without the need for words. Once inside the room, Tan Qingxiang had sent Shen Xi away before immediately making his move, trying to subdue the man. An innocent person would have cried out in defense; only someone prepared for conflict would choose to fight back.

His resistance had confirmed their suspicions.

They had calculated everything—but still, she had been forced to stain her hands.

Tears soaked through the front of his shirt.

Fu Tongwen held her with his right arm, turning his head slightly to quietly discuss the disposal of the body with Tan Qingxiang. On the vast ocean, making a body disappear completely was an easy task.

Tan Qingxiang calmly suggested, “I can take care of it—”

Fu Tongwen shook his head, signaling him not to upset Shen Xi further.

Tan Qingxiang understood his meaning. “Leave it to me.”

Fu Tongwen placed his palm against Shen Xi’s back, lowered his head, and asked, “Shall we go back?”

Shen Xi’s mind was in turmoil. She didn’t dare to look at the body. Yet, thanks to her past experiences and profession, she was able to pull herself together faster than most people. She lowered her head and nodded.

Fu Tongwen took the towel from Tan Qingxiang’s hands and wrapped it around Shen Xi’s fingers, carefully wiping the blood from them.

Shen Xi stared at his sleeve for a long moment—there was blood on it. But there was none on her.

“You won’t see it once I put the jacket on.” Fu Tongwen reassured her, slipping his suit jacket back on, concealing all traces of blood on his shirt.

He was composed—even before embracing her, he had remembered to remove his jacket.

Back in the first-class cabin, their personal butler looked at Shen Xi with concern.

“My wife isn’t feeling well,” Fu Tongwen said in English, his expression one of worry. “Please do not disturb us.”

“Of course, sir.” The American butler smiled and opened the door for them. “We are at your service whenever you need.”

The butler carefully closed the door behind them.

Shen Xi had pushed herself to the limit, managing to walk all the way from the first-class cabin to here. But the moment the door shut, her knees buckled, and she collapsed.

Before she hit the ground, Fu Tongwen caught her and lifted her into his arms. He rarely carried people, especially not so soon after a heart attack. But Shen Xi had already reached her breaking point—he couldn’t force her to climb onto the bed herself.

The curtains were thick, the night outside impenetrable. No light seeped through.

He placed her gently on the bed and wrapped her snugly in the blanket.

“Sleep,” he murmured in the quiet of the night, his voice carrying a faint echo in her ears. “I’ll be here until you wake up.”

His heart felt unsteady, but he didn’t want her to notice. He pulled out his pocket watch and set it on the table, letting the rhythmic ticking of the second hand draw her focus away.

Shen Xi reached a hand out from under the blanket, searching for his. Fu Tongwen didn’t pull away, letting her grasp the back of his hand.

“…Have you killed before?”

She was asking for help—not physically, but emotionally.

Fu Tongwen gently brushed away the strands of damp hair sticking to her forehead, smoothing them back with his fingers. Sweat and stray hairs clung to his palm as he traced her skin.

“A lot.” He answered.