Studying Abroad

In 1933, Tan Yang began handling the procedures for studying abroad in Germany. By the time everything was nearly settled, it was the early summer of May in Shanghai.

Bi Qingtang had opened another department store in Hangzhou, and a silk-reeling factory near Shanghai was also in the works. His business was flourishing, and he joked with Tan Yang, saying that everything was going well for him except for the fact that his wife was about to leave for a foreign land.

That night, Bi Qingtang placed his freshly wound Kuen watch under Tan Yang’s pillow. “When do you plan to leave?” he asked.

“Next week, I suppose. I plan to buy a ticket for next week’s ship.”

Bi Qingtang frowned, mumbling, “So soon?”

Tan Yang smiled, taking his arm. “The sooner I go, the sooner I’ll return. The graduate program at Heidelberg Medical School lasts two years and three months; if I do well, I might even finish early.”

He nodded. “Alright, I’ll buy your ticket.”

After turning off the lights and lying in bed, Bi Qingtang suddenly asked, “Little sister, when you go to Germany, will you come back for winter and summer breaks?”

“There may only be about thirty days of vacation, and with the journey, I’d barely be home for a week. It’s too much trouble,” Tan Yang replied, troubled.

Bi Qingtang cleared his throat and said seriously, “Well, in that case, I’ve changed my mind. You’re not allowed to go to Germany.”

Tan Yang laughed. “Alright, I’ll come back for every break. Don’t change your mind again, big brother.”

After a moment, Bi Qingtang placed his hand on her shoulder and said softly, “A married couple shouldn’t be apart for too long. Little sister, you’ll have to bear with the hardship.”

Nestled in his arms, Tan Yang whispered, “You’re the one who truly suffers, agreeing to let me go abroad. Big brother.”

When most of her things were packed, Tan Yang felt a wave of reluctance before her departure. With time on her hands at home, she knitted a chestnut-colored wool sweater with a V-neck for Bi Qingtang. One evening, he returned from work and tried it on, perspiring in the process, and complained, “What were you thinking, knitting a sweater in this heat?”

Sitting on the sofa, Tan Yang carefully folded the sweater. “The next time I’m back, it’ll be winter. You’ll need it then.” After a pause, she added, “When you wear this sweater, I’ll be on my way home, big brother.”

Bi Qingtang sat across from her. “Little sister, I bought the tickets and kept them in my wallet for days, nearly forgetting to give them to you.” With that, he took two tickets from his wallet and handed them to her.

“Oh? Why are there two?” Tan Yang asked in confusion.

Bi Qingtang gazed at her and smiled. “I’m going with you!” He took out a cigarette, and before he could light it, Tan Yang threw her arms around him, laughing with delight. “It’s wonderful that you can come.”

He tapped her forehead, grumbling, “Can’t bear to leave? If you can’t bear it, why insist on going to Germany? At first, I only bought one ticket and didn’t want to give it to you. At noon today, I bought another and brought them out.”

On the morning they left Shanghai, the car waited at the door as the servants loaded their luggage. Just before departing, Tan Yang wanted to see her daughter one last time, but Bi Qingtang stopped her. “No need. You’ll have to leave anyway, and seeing her will only make it harder.”

Sitting in the car, Tan Yang fought back tears, her nose red. Bi Qingtang comforted her. “Didn’t you decide already? Then go boldly and give it your all. If you want to accomplish something in life, this is how it must be. I’ll take care of our little girl; there’s nothing to worry about. Study well, finish as soon as you can, and when you return, spend more time with me and our daughter.”

A good husband, a true companion—not always a dazzling figure at first sight. Wisdom is revealed in daily life, offering inspiration in subtle ways. Over ten or twenty years, you grow into someone new. They say a woman’s marriage is like another birth, not just in terms of material comfort, but spiritually as well.

The journey across the sea was rough. By the time they reached Heidelberg, it was the height of summer. Still thinking of his daughter and his business in Shanghai, Bi Qingtang hurried back home after settling Tan Yang at the university. The night before his departure, Mr. Seidler hosted them at his home. With their son serving in the military in Frankfurt, the Seidlers were a hospitable couple. They served fried potatoes with onions, smoked meat, and herring—a taste of homely foreign fare.

Having often dealt with foreigners in the Shanghai concessions, Bi Qingtang was adept at handling such occasions, especially with Tan Yang as his ready interpreter.

That night, both men drank more than usual and walked back to their hotel, which was not far away. After the rain, Heidelberg was cool and pleasant. It was not a bustling city, but a tranquil place for scholarship. The damp streets, stones glistening with rainwater and moss, the couple walked arm in arm beneath the mellow, peaceful glow of the streetlamps. In the little gardens beside the houses bloomed white cornflowers, their fragrance drifting softly in the air.

Occasionally, a group of German men would pass by, reeking of alcohol and body odor, fresh from the beer halls. Tan Yang wrinkled her nose in distaste.

Bi Qingtang told her, “Don’t go out alone at night. There are few people about, and those there are, are all drunkards.”

“I know. If I’m not in class, I’ll stay in the dorm to study,” she replied.

He smiled, “As long as you’re safe, I’m not worried about you being out here alone.”

Sensing the implication in his words, Tan Yang only smiled, choosing not to reply.

Seeing her silence, Bi Qingtang asked, “Little sister, I’ve always wondered—aren’t you worried, letting me be on my own while you’re abroad? Aren’t you afraid that when you return, you’ll find I’ve filled the house with concubines?”

She slowed her pace, considering her answer. “If you truly wanted that, it wouldn’t matter if I were in Germany or right by your side, watching you like a hawk. It all comes down to what kind of life you want, big brother. As for trust, the reason lies not with me, but with you.”

He nodded with a faint smile. “There’s some truth to that.”

After Bi Qingtang left, Tan Yang began studying medicine under Mr. Seidler. She was resilient and hardworking, bright and determined—traits that endeared her to the scholars who mentored her with all their knowledge and support. Her path to becoming a doctor was thus made broad and smooth.

Heidelberg, built along the water, is where the Neckar meets the Rhine. The scenery is beautiful, the climate pleasant. The sky is a clear, gem-blue, and this serene foreign city was perfect for study. Every morning, Tan Yang rose early; opening her window, she could see the slender silhouette of Heidelberg Castle perched on the riverside mountain, its red sandstone walls set against the blue sky and water, clouds drifting overhead—a landscape like an oil painting, with herself wandering within it.

Homesick and weary from her studies at the hospital and university, Tan Yang grew thinner than she had been in China; even the cheongsams she had brought no longer fit. Mrs. Seidler took her to a tailor for some Western dresses. Except for her wedding gown, Tan Yang had never worn such attire; seeing herself in the mirror was a novelty. She had a photograph taken and mailed it home. To her surprise, Bi Qingtang’s reply made no mention of her new Western style; instead, he sent a telegram, worried that she looked too thin and urging her to eat more. Holding the telegram, separated by thousands of miles, Tan Yang shut herself in her room and quietly shed tears.

Aside from studying in the library and her hospital internship, Tan Yang’s most frequent pastime was writing letters home to Shanghai. On quiet nights, with few people left in the library, a cup of coffee at hand and thick medical tomes set aside, she would spread paper and write home—seven or eight pages at a time, as if speaking directly to her husband and daughter. She recounted her experiences, her thoughts, and endless reminders to take care. Her letters often ran to ten pages, and each time she mailed them at the campus post office, she had to pay extra postage for their weight.

Bi Qingtang’s responses, however, always made Tan Yang laugh and sigh. At first, he wrote back, but he was never one for expressing emotion in words; his large, sprawling characters barely filled a single page, and the content was sparse. A man of action, he found it easier to show love through deeds and words than pen and paper.

So while Tan Yang sent out letter after heartfelt letter, Shanghai would send back a thin reply, perhaps just a page, sometimes even padded with a newspaper. The paper reported the opening of the silk factory, with a blurry inked photo of the ceremony and Bi Qingtang’s profile, smiling with satisfaction in his new hairstyle and proper suit—a successful businessman. Tan Yang looked at the paper, then at her own reflection in the mirror on her desk—her delicate beauty infused with wisdom and composure. A woman with knowledge and ambition wears her beauty with quiet confidence, not as a surface gloss but as a deep reserve.

Time sweeps people along; silently, circumstances and the passage of years shape the men and women within a marriage.

After some time, perhaps feeling guilty about the imbalance in their correspondence, Bi Qingtang told Tan Yang to rest more and not to write so often, given her busy studies. Obediently, she didn’t write for a month. Then he sent a telegram: “If you have time, write and let me know how you are in Germany.” Tan Yang smiled when she read it, then wrote a densely packed letter to send home, ending with, “Big brother, from now on I’ll write to you, but you needn’t write back.” In those words lay a gentlewoman’s tolerance and understanding, just the temperament that suited Bi Qingtang.

In the blink of an eye, winter arrived. Knowing that Tan Yang’s husband and child were in Shanghai, Mr. Seidler gave her an early release, so she returned home ten days before Heidelberg’s winter break.

It was a gloomy morning when she arrived in Shanghai. The ship was crowded with disembarking passengers and their families and friends waiting on the dock. Swept along by the crowd, Tan Yang didn’t see Bi Qingtang at first and felt a pang of disappointment. As she walked out, her eyes brightened—parked to one side was Bi Qingtang’s car. The driver, spotting her, hurried to help with her luggage. “Madam, didn’t you see the boss? He’s waiting for you inside!”

At that, Tan Yang ran back to search. The crowd had nearly dispersed, and on the dock stood a familiar figure in a trench coat, back to her, gazing at the ship’s exit.

“Big brother!” Tan Yang called out joyfully.

Bi Qingtang turned around. Wrapped within his coat was their four-year-old daughter, Yanqin, her round eyes peeking out from her father’s collar, blinking at her mother. Beaming, Bi Qingtang stroked his daughter’s hair. “Little one, what did Papa just teach you?”

The little girl smiled, her eyes turning into crescent moons. “Mama, I missed you.”

Tan Yang rushed forward to hug her, but a strong arm drew her into a close embrace.

On that chilly morning on the Bund, the family of three clung together at the dock. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, casting shimmering light across the sea…

Wishing everyone a happy Dragon Boat Festival!

The Tale of Emerald Sandalwood, Chapter 43 (Part 41): The Study Abroad Arc, complete!