15 (13) The Church

A heartfelt plea to God, that I may never leave you, that I might follow behind you wherever you go. For wherever you go, I will go; wherever you stay, I will stay. The ones you love will become the ones I love, and your Lord will become my Lord. Where you die, there will I be buried with you. Perhaps the Lord asks more of me, but whatever happens, you will always be by my side, through life and death.

The bride’s pure white gown was like the mist at dawn, intricate lace edges resembling petals in the fog. Standing beside the groom, she was bathed in the colored light from stained glass, casting a rainbow across the long aisle, as if after rain the sky had cleared. The white-bearded priest stood beneath the cross, his smile shining with a golden glow. Guided by him, the couple recited their vows beneath the lofty dome of the church, vows seeming to descend from the heavens, carrying a sacred beauty far removed from the mundane world.

A Chinese wedding is a celebration of the earthly, while a Western wedding is a pilgrimage of faith. In ancient China, family was faith; even the Buddha and the Dao served the family, guarding its peace and prosperity. In the West, faith is central—power, marriage, all are gifts bestowed by it. The starting points differ, yet all roads lead to the same destination. Yet, thanks to the novelty of this experience and her present circumstances, in Tan Yang’s eyes, this wedding seemed to lift the love of mortal couples straight up to the heavens, bathing it in sanctity and mystery—a source of deep yearning.

When the ceremony ended, everyone rose to leave. Tan Yang still lingered in that solemn divinity and sweet earthliness, unable to pull herself away. Bi Qingtang leaned forward, smiling for a while before he asked, “What do you think of the foreigners’ wedding ceremony?” Awakened from her reverie, Tan Yang quickly glanced at him, then lowered her head, looking at the yellow butterfly ribbon at the end of her braid, wrinkling her nose with a smile, “It’s quite interesting!” It was a wedding, and a girl’s fondness for it was difficult to express. Bi Qingtang laughed happily, then placed his hat firmly on his head, nodded solemnly, and said, “Good! I understand!” With that, he got up and left, leaving Tan Yang slightly stunned, but smiling as she followed behind.

Western weddings do not serve food. Watching the bride and groom drive away from the church, the guests dispersed. In the car, Bi Qingtang asked considerately, “Are you hungry? What would you like to eat?” “I can’t think of anything right now.” “Then leave it to me. I happen to know a good place.” Tan Yang tugged at her pale yellow jacket with a hint of stubborn playfulness, “But what if I remember what I want later?” Bi Qingtang looked at her, smiled a little, then tapped his forehead with his middle and index fingers, feigning confusion, “How strange, my good place—how could I forget it?” At this, both laughed together. Lovers, in their teasing and compromise, are filled with delight. While laughing, Bi Qingtang gently placed his hand above Tan Yang’s seat, his smile deepening with meaning. Sensing this, she quickly stopped laughing, uneasily edged away, pressing herself tightly against the car door, head lowered in embarrassment. Bi Qingtang wasn’t perturbed, his gaze fixed on her, smiling undiminished.

He had the patience and skill, and he was willing to let a small flame simmer slowly, turning love into a rich, fragrant soup for savoring.

On the way to dinner, Bi Qingtang deliberately asked the driver to pass by a certain place. Tan Yang was puzzled, but Bi Qingtang pointed out the window, signaling her to look outside. The car turned a corner, and a towering Gothic building came into view. At noon, the sky was a deep blue, the clock tower stood straight, piercing the clouds, a golden cross atop the main building, brick-red walls like the backdrop of a European fairy tale. The ethereal voices of the choir drifted in with the sound of the organ, like music from a distant realm. Compared to the church where Zhao Ling’s wedding had just been held, this church was grand and magnificent, like a palace. The car moved slowly, and Tan Yang recalled hearing at school about the largest Christian church in the country, so she asked, “Is this Trinity Church?” Bi Qingtang, holding a cigarette trailing smoke, smiled and nodded.

The place Bi Qingtang had in mind was a restaurant run by Englishmen. It was on the eighth floor, one of the tallest buildings in Shanghai. Whether it was psychological or otherwise, sitting in the restaurant always gave one the feeling of teetering on the edge. The patrons were mostly couples in love, dressed elegantly, smiling intimately, speaking of love amidst violin music, as if floating in clouds and mist. As usual, Bi Qingtang let Tan Yang look at the menu, but the unfamiliar names left her uncertain, so he ordered many dishes for her, rescuing her from awkwardness—he played the gentleman, made the decisions, and finally asked considerately, “Are these dishes to your liking?” In truth, they were all fine. He knew women’s tastes well and understood Tan Yang’s preferences; not a single dish failed to please her.

While waiting for the food, Tan Yang went to the restroom. As soon as she entered, she saw a woman standing before the glass wall, applying lipstick. Warm-colored wallpaper, golden light from the chandelier, reflected in the glass, creating a hazy, opulent effect—the restaurant was so refined it bordered on extravagance, even the place for nature’s cycles was suffused with decadence. The woman wore her hair in the latest style, leaned toward her ear adorned with sparkling crystal hairpins, striking and languid. Her white cheongsam was embellished with gold and silver beads, shimmering under the lights, silver-edged high heels on her feet, a white wool shawl over her shoulders—simple in design, yet fastened by an eye-catching golden rose brooch studded with gemstones. Her ensemble blended elegance and luxury seamlessly. The woman was exceedingly beautiful, with the allure of a Western film star: bold features, commanding presence. She examined herself in the mirror, admiring her beauty, her gestures and glances brimming with seductive charm, like a summer breeze intoxicating all who beheld her.

Charm can be a blessing or a curse. It is a lure for the opposite sex, but also a spell that exposes oneself. A charming woman always has her age, has lived through joys and sorrows. Much of a woman’s allure is in her eyes—what she has experienced, how much she has endured, always shows there.

Satisfied at last, the woman turned to leave, her gaze lingering on Tan Yang for a few seconds. Tan Yang understood—this was a silent protest against her student attire. Among the people and scenes, she once again felt out of place amid this captivating atmosphere.

When Tan Yang finished and returned, she saw from afar a scene unfold. Bi Qingtang sat with legs crossed, relaxed, and the woman she’d seen in the restroom stood beside him. They chatted and laughed, clearly familiar, unconcerned with formalities—he sat while she stood. Tan Yang hesitated for a moment, then slowly walked over. The conversation was winding down, and as the woman prepared to leave, Bi Qingtang craned his neck to see where she was headed. “What are you doing?” she said, casting him a reproachful glance. Bi Qingtang laughed, “Just seeing who you’re having dinner with.” The woman walked off on her own, tossing back, “Well, since when do you get to manage my affairs?” At this, Bi Qingtang burst into laughter.

Turning back, he saw Tan Yang had returned. He didn’t stop smiling, handing her the plate, “Look at you, gone so long, the steak’s getting cold.” Tan Yang sat down, picked up the knife and fork, seeing the steak already cut. Bi Qingtang teased, “Don’t thank me!” “Who’s thanking you? I wanted to try cutting it myself!” Seeing her unappreciative, he wasn’t annoyed, lowered his head to tackle his own steak, saying casually, “If you’re willing to marry in Trinity Church, you’ll never have to cut your own steak again in this lifetime.” In truth, he wanted to look up and see her expression, gaze at her with tender affection to match his gentle, veiled words, but he refrained—he feared frightening her, so he deliberately appeared nonchalant.

Timidity is not love, but reckless abandon is not wise love either. The balance between the two is difficult to find, yet he hoped he could manage it effortlessly.

After dinner, Bi Qingtang led Tan Yang past the woman’s table, warmly greeting, “Sister Fang Ya, we’re leaving now.” Fang Ya ignored him, resting her hand on her cheek, smiling at Tan Yang with a playful look, as if she were admiring a work of art. The atmosphere left Tan Yang somewhat displeased; she didn’t linger for polite conversation, heading straight for the door. Watching her leave, Bi Qingtang complained, “That girl, why so eager to go?” Then he turned to Fang Ya, “So, what do you think? Not bad, right?” Fang Ya smiled awkwardly, “I knew long ago you liked this kind of woman.” Bi Qingtang paused, sighed, “After so many years, things have changed, why are you still tangled up in this?” After a moment’s silence, Fang Ya raised her brows and smiled brightly, “When will you formally bring her to meet me? I’ll give her a red packet as a gift!” Bi Qingtang laughed, “You said it, don’t be stingy!” “If your old man’s spirit is watching from heaven, I’m sure he’d say I’ve done right by your family!”

That night, upon returning home, the phone rang. Bi Qingtang rushed to answer it, only to find Zhao Ling on the line. He made a joke out of his disappointment, “Am I about to strike it rich? Every minute of yours is precious, and yet you, the bride, spare a few moments for me on your wedding night!” Zhao Ling tossed the gift list next to the phone, retorting, “Look at the gift you gave, you might as well have added ‘wife’ before Yang’s name!” Bi Qingtang took a deep breath, remorseful, “Ah, how could I have forgotten those two words?”

Zhao Ling didn’t want to banter, switching to a serious tone, “Yang is about to take the high school entrance exams, which is important for her. You shouldn’t distract her. If you truly care for her, you should set aside your romantic feelings for now.”

“You’re lecturing me again!”

“I’m doing this for Yang’s sake.”

“You’re using her well-being as a threat against me!”

“You—!”

Seeing Zhao Ling about to lose her temper, Bi Qingtang irritably pulled the calendar over, flipping through it angrily, “Tell me, when is the exam?”

“Mid-July.”

“It’s March now, four months. Fine, I’ll wait. Twice a week, is that acceptable? I know my limits!”

Zhao Ling smiled triumphantly, her tone softening, “Now you sound more like an elder brother. I think Yang has great prospects; she should get into a good university in the future.”

“I won’t stop her from studying, don’t worry.”

“That’s not what I mean. If you really intend to marry her, you should wait until she’s finished her education.”

Bi Qingtang threw the calendar onto the sofa in frustration, “You! You excel at two things—throwing cold water and pushing your luck!” He was about to lose his temper, but then he laughed, gloating, “I’d like to manage it, but if I raise a child ahead of time, the wedding date won’t be so easy to predict!”

On the other end, Zhao Ling’s face flushed and paled in anger, and she hung up furiously. Here, Bi Qingtang slapped the armrest of the sofa, humming and singing Beijing opera, utterly beside himself with glee.