Lingering Affection (61) Entwined Longing

When Hu Liancheng wandered through the house searching for Tan Yang with the shawl in his hand and could not find her, a servant told him, “Miss Tan had a headache and left early. No need to look for her.”

Meanwhile, Fang Ya carefully opened the side door of the villa. After Bi Qingtang carried Tan Yang out in his arms, he went straight to the car parked outside. The driver caught a glimpse of Tan Yang in Bi Qingtang’s embrace through the rearview mirror, his surprise evident as he turned to look again. Bi Qingtang said offhandedly, “Madam drank too much.”

He had no need to explain himself to his subordinate, yet subconsciously, he wanted someone to know that he and she could still be as they once were—even if that someone was a stranger. The driver laughed, “It’s clear Madam can’t handle her liquor. But when a woman drinks too much, she speaks her true feelings!” With that, he started the engine.

Perhaps it was an illusion, but Bi Qingtang felt that the driver who had served him for over ten years, always so reserved, was today visibly joyful. Even the motions of shifting gears and turning the wheel seemed lighter. At that moment, Bi Qingtang thought that from now on, he would treat this old driver a little better.

“Sir, shall we return to the Bi Residence?”

“No, go to the apartment where Madam lives. I want to see what kind of muddled days she’s been living these months.”

The car sped silently through the shifting shadows of Shanghai’s night. Bi Qingtang held Tan Yang tightly in his arms; the warmth and fragrance of her body so familiar, it brought to mind their wedding night, when he had likewise carried her, unconscious, in the car. Eight years had passed, not a short span, but it still felt vivid and clear in his memory. He lowered his head, meticulously gazing at the little sister nestled in his arms, determined to etch this night deep in his memory—so deep that he could savor it for the rest of his days.

The driver opened the door to the apartment for Bi Qingtang and tactfully departed. Upon seeing what he imagined were Tan Yang’s “muddled days,” Bi Qingtang’s heart skipped and panic seized him.

The apartment was clean and tidy, fully furnished. On the table, a vase of lilies rested atop a pristine tablecloth; two magazines and a glass water bottle with cold boiled water sat on the coffee table. At the entrance, a calendar displayed daily tasks written in fountain pen. The kitchen was stocked with rice, vegetables, salt, and tea; the study furnished with desk, chair, books, and paintings. Each of the two bedrooms held a single bed—one with rose-pink sheets and several dolls, prepared for their daughter by Tan Yang. The other bed, with neatly folded sky-blue bedding and foreign books by the pillow, was where the sleeping Tan Yang was laid.

At that moment, Tan Yang’s begonia-red qipao and the waves of her hair shimmered coldly under the bluish lamp, stinging Bi Qingtang’s eyes. Her unfamiliar yet beautiful attire, and the orderly yet strange apartment, stirred a fear in the heart of this lifelong adventurer that he had never felt before. With anger, he stripped off his clothes one by one, tossing them all about the room, determined to leave his mark in Tan Yang’s home, in her heart, on her body…

He threw himself onto the bed, pressing Tan Yang beneath him, and in a vengeful frenzy, tore her begonia-red qipao to shreds—the sharp sound of ripping silk echoing with a piercing grief. He tangled her hair, then buried his head to kiss behind her ear, sucking at her delicate white neck. Guided by memory, he could picture when she would laugh and dodge, when she would gasp for breath, when she would cling to his shoulders. On this familiar body, he imagined her responses—between dream and reality, his months of longing and pain were numbed, if only for a while.

In this moment, even though the woman beneath him was a puppet, unconscious, he was satisfied. Yet had he truly forgotten how, not long ago, he had sworn to her that he would never sink so low as to touch an unconscious woman? Just a few months, and he had indeed sunk, uncertain what further depths he might reach if this agony went on.

His love and longing burned like fire; only by transforming that fire into desire and releasing it could he find brief solace. This time, he was without restraint, without measure, following his heart and indulging his passion. So eager were his movements that he reached the peak surprisingly quickly—quicker than he himself expected. In all these years with women, never had he lost control like this.

Just as he climbed higher and higher, he felt his little sister's body respond, and at the moment they both reached their peak, the delirious Tan Yang moaned, “Big Brother, Big Brother…” Upon hearing this, Bi Qingtang collapsed as if the mountains had crumbled, burying his head in her neck, his eyes brimming with tears he could not contain.

For that moment, he was utterly fulfilled, content to let this brief entanglement stand for a lifetime spent together…

In the night, he warmed his despairing heart with the closeness of her flesh, using every means to make Tan Yang call him “Big Brother” once more at the height of passion. Yet the night was so fleeting, and soon daylight broke. Tan Yang’s fingers twitched as the drug wore off, and she gradually regained consciousness.

Bi Qingtang kissed her deeply, the kiss lasting a long while. Then he rose, put on his trousers, fished a cigarette from his pocket, and sat exhausted on the sofa opposite the bed, smoking languidly. So when Tan Yang awoke, opening her eyes, she saw Bi Qingtang, bare-chested, sitting on the sofa, casually puffing on a cigarette.

Tan Yang sat up, saw her nakedness and the disarrayed bed beneath her, and flushed with shame and anger, glaring fiercely at Bi Qingtang. He did not meet her gaze; he flicked ash to the floor and smiled wickedly, “You drank too much last night, seduced me. I drank too much, couldn’t resist. We’re an old married couple—routine, really.”

“You’re talking nonsense!” Tan Yang shouted.

“Nonsense? You cried ‘Big Brother’ when you were so comfortable you seemed half-dead, half-divine. Forgotten already?” Bi Qingtang teased, a hint of pride in his voice.

Tan Yang stared blankly for a moment, then collapsed onto the bed, sobbing uncontrollably, her cries unrestrained, full of despair and helplessness. Her outburst stunned Bi Qingtang, but in an instant, he understood: no matter how orderly she kept her life, how bright and beautiful her attire, her emotional state mirrored his own, in every way.

Bi Qingtang threw his cigarette to the floor, rushed to the bed and embraced the weeping Tan Yang fiercely, explaining loudly, “Little sister, I was teasing you! You didn’t know anything, you were drugged. Don’t cry—it was me, I had Fang Ya put the drug in your wine. Once taken, you can’t move or speak. Please, don’t cry, can you hear me?”

But Tan Yang’s tears flowed like a broken dam, unstoppable, and she sobbed until she could barely breathe. Bi Qingtang held her tightly, and when her tears finally subsided, she croaked hoarsely, “I beg you, please, don’t come for me anymore. I still have to live, I still have Nannan!” Upon hearing this, Bi Qingtang felt his insides burn, an immense grief crashing down upon him. Yet he forced himself to nod, replying, “Alright, alright, you can rest assured.”

In that small corner of the vast city, on a lonely single bed in the apartment, she cried as much as she wished, and he watched over her, heartbroken and helpless. After a long while, her sobs faded. Bi Qingtang carefully smoothed her hair, felt her icy back, and hastily draped his white suit jacket over her shoulders.

Tan Yang wiped her tears and sat up against the headboard. Glancing down, she noticed a smear of bright pink lipstick on the cuff of Bi Qingtang’s suit. Tan Yang herself never wore such vivid lipstick; the image of last night’s seductive figure flashed before her eyes, and tears welled up again.

Bi Qingtang sighed deeply, then rose and opened the wardrobe to find clothes for Tan Yang, saying offhandedly, “Last night, Sister Fang Ya called to tell me you and Hu Liancheng went to her place together, and that Hu was openly attentive to you. So I borrowed Fang Ya’s most popular singer from the dance hall for the banquet. Fang Ya laughed at me, saying such childish jealousy was the mark of a teenager. I ignored her, deliberately sticking close to that girl called Man-something in front of you, knowing it would upset you but doing it anyway. Because today, I wanted to tell you…”

He turned, his expression serious. “I wanted you to know: if what I did with that girl yesterday made you unhappy, then your being with Hu Liancheng pains me even more, by far. Or,” he turned away, speaking in a low, helpless tone, “as you said last night, a hundredfold sorrow.”

After his words, both were immersed in an inexplicable sadness. Bi Qingtang placed the qipao undergarments he’d found by Tan Yang’s side. “Put your clothes on, tidy up, and come with me to fetch Nannan.” Tan Yang looked up, incredulous. Bi Qingtang forced a smile. “From now on, you can bring Nannan over on weekends if you wish.” At his words, Tan Yang’s tear-swollen eyes immediately brightened. Seeing her vivid joy, Bi Qingtang sighed inwardly—he had always faced life and death, success and failure with equanimity, never blaming fate or relying on luck, but for one thing he was profoundly grateful: that he and Tan Yang had a daughter together.

No matter how couples fracture, how far they walk apart, how much hatred and resentment they bear, as long as they have a child, their flesh and blood are forever fused, and the child is a bond they can never sever.

After dressing, Tan Yang changed the bedsheets, while Bi Qingtang waited in the bedroom’s sofa. The doorbell rang; Tan Yang answered it, and found Hu Liancheng standing outside, holding the white shawl Tan Yang had left at Fang Ya’s place two nights before. He asked with concern, “I heard you left early last night with a headache. It was too late to disturb you, but how are you today?”

Tan Yang hesitated, then replied vaguely, “I’m alright, Mr. Hu. Thank you for bringing the shawl all this way.” After a pause, she added, “I know you’re always busy, so I won’t keep you.” She took the shawl from him.

She had always treated him this way, so Hu Liancheng was not surprised. He turned to leave when a voice from inside called warmly, “Is that Young Master Hu? Come in and sit, since you’re here! Little sister, you’re so rude—how can you let someone leave without offering a glass of water?” Both Hu Liancheng and Tan Yang looked back to see Bi Qingtang emerging from the bedroom, his shirt open, chest bare, lazily fastening his cuff. Behind him, the bed was still half-changed and messy.

Seeing this, Hu Liancheng shot a deep, venomous look at Tan Yang and left without a word. Tan Yang wanted to say something, but ultimately remained silent and closed the door slowly. Behind her, Bi Qingtang chuckled, “Guess if he’ll ever come looking for you again?”

Tan Yang said nothing, turning back to the bedroom to finish changing the sheets. Bi Qingtang leaned against the doorway, chatting idly, “He won’t come again—he’s busy preparing for marriage! His father, that old fox, has always wanted a stake in Mr. Zou’s cement factory. Mr. Zou finally agreed, and even arranged a match for Young Master Hu. The bride’s family are old friends of Mr. Zou, though the lady is rather plain, temperamental, has a bad reputation, and even had an affair with her foreign language tutor. Still, she brings a sizable dowry! Oh, and as a lawyer, he’s about to face some trouble; he can’t rely on lawsuits anymore. If he wants to climb the official ranks, it depends on his fickle father; if he wants business, he’ll need his shrewish wife. In short, he’ll be tied to his home, not running about anymore!”

Tan Yang shook the bedsheet forcefully, glaring at Bi Qingtang, “Don’t go too far!”

Bi Qingtang’s face darkened. “He went too far with me! Dared to incite my wife to sue me! It’s a mercy I let him keep his miserable life.”

“I sued you for the sake of the child, not because someone incited me. I asked him for help. Don’t slander a good man!” Tan Yang retorted.

Bi Qingtang sneered, “A good man? You think he’s a good man? I’ve fought my way across Shanghai all these years—no one escapes my scrutiny. Anyone who stands before me, I can see right through. A loser like Hu Liancheng, I know what he’s about before he even opens his mouth! What man isn’t attentive when he likes a woman? But there are differences in liking. He swore he’d help you win back your daughter, but when I sent word to his father, he caved. When I mailed him a bullet, he stopped going to court! A man in his thirties, so afraid of his father—is that filial piety? He’s after the Hu estate! Such men, greedy for family wealth now, will be greedy for their wife’s wealth later. Everyone loves money, but those who want to sit back and enjoy it without risk or effort—what girl would marry such a man? A cowardly, selfish, useless failure like Hu Liancheng—I’d rather you never go near him. Even stepping on him, I’d be afraid your shoes would be dirtied. Stay far away.”

He added painfully, “Little sister, you haven’t met enough people, you judge too kindly, your understanding is lacking! It always worries me.”

As Bi Qingtang delivered his impassioned speech, Tan Yang replied with a cold laugh, “Yes, my judgment is lacking. So, Boss Bi, are you telling me that in twenty-some years, I’ve only met one man worth trusting with my life—you?”

Bi Qingtang was taken aback, a bit annoyed. “You think I’m just jealous? Fine, let me give you an example—Xu Zhizhong. Among the men you’ve met, Xu Zhizhong is a good one. Marrying someone like him wouldn’t be too far off. But Hu Liancheng? He’s not even half as good as Xu Zhizhong!”

Bi Qingtang wanted to add, “If I truly meant it, none of them could compare to me.” But the words stuck in his throat. Such comparisons felt oddly bleak, especially with Feng Kang dead and the shattered Bitter Buddha between them; his so-called “true meaning” felt particularly pale and powerless.

When they arrived at the Bi Residence, Yan Qin happened to be sitting on a garden chair, hugging a white kitten. Behind her, a row of tall, dense oleander trees was ablaze with brilliant red blossoms. Tan Yang got out of the car and hurried forward, choking out, “Nannan, Nannan!” Yan Qin looked up, saw her mother, and burst into tears. She put down the kitten and ran to her, clinging to Tan Yang’s legs. When Tan Yang tried to pick her up, Yan Qin shook her head, sobbing, clutching her mother’s legs desperately, wailing, “They lied to me. They said Mama would never return!” Hearing this, Tan Yang bent down, embracing her daughter’s small figure, and wept with her. Bi Qingtang, standing aside, turned his back, unable to bear the sight.

Author’s note: I’ve seen your comments, dear sisters—thank you all for your love! Time is tight, so I can’t reply individually, but I must stress again: the ending is happy, you can follow the story with confidence!

Bitan Memoirs 6361_Bitan Memoirs full free reading_63 (61) Entwined, update complete!