Reunion

A few days later, at dusk, Tan Yang made a phone call from her office using the newly installed telephone.

“Hello, is this the home of Medical Examiner Liu? Sorry to bother you, my name is Tan. Yes, yes, I contacted you some time ago. I know you’re available now, but I think, perhaps, I shouldn’t trouble you about that matter anymore. It’s been over ten years, as you said last time—it’s been so long, there’s no guarantee we’ll find anything, and besides, I don’t wish to disturb the peace of the departed. Thank you all the same. Goodbye.”

After hanging up, Tan Yang leaned back in her chair, letting out a long sigh, her gaze drifting out the window. The evening glow bathed her face in tranquility and peace.

Perhaps, without unraveling the cause of her father’s death, she could not be called a dutiful daughter. Yet her parents had slept together in the beauty of Tongli for so many years; the dead needed peace, and the living needed it even more. If it turned out her father’s death had nothing to do with Bi Qingtang, would she be happy? Would she forgive him? How could the lives of her uncle, Old Ma, and Uncle Xu’s father and son—those vibrant souls—ever be truly laid to rest? If her father had indeed died unjustly, and if Bi Qingtang was inextricably linked to that death, she could not fathom how she might hate him more—the man she loved and who loved her, the father of her beloved daughter.

That night, she had thought she was dreaming. In her dream, they had thrown caution to the wind, entwined in passion, flesh against flesh, lips and teeth pressed together. His fervent kisses and caresses intoxicated her, leaving her powerless to escape. Yet the dream felt unusually real, especially that last deep kiss—she could almost feel the warm tears coursing down his cheek. When she awoke, she saw Bi Qingtang sitting on the sofa, watching her, smoking, the scene and scent so reminiscent of any morning from their eight years together.

She realized, with sorrow, that she wished the dream were real, yet also hoped their night of intimacy was only a dream. She hated her own cowardice, her weakness, but hated even more that she still loved him. So, when she forced herself to reproach him, she managed only two sentences before breaking down in uncontrollable tears. He flustered, tried to comfort her. In truth, with all his years in the underworld, he ought to have known that those intoxicating drugs left some measure of awareness—but he couldn't bear her sadness, so he took all the blame upon himself, insisting she'd remembered nothing, and none of it was her fault. At that moment, Tan Yang felt that the once-fearless, all-powerful Boss Bi—her elder brother—was, after all, a pitiable soul.

In the vast, dusty world, no one is truly better than another. What is visible is dazzling, oil-boiling fire; what is hidden is riddled with wounds, endless sorrow.

From that day on, Bi Qingtang kept his promise—he no longer disturbed Tan Yang, no longer appeared in her life. Even when she came to the Bi residence to pick up her daughter, she never saw him; instead, it was Uncle Chen who handled everything. After picking up Yan Qin, she’d have to take along the driver, maid, and bodyguard; Tan Yang protested, but Uncle Chen insisted—it was the young master’s wish. Did the young lady not know how much the young master loved Miss Yan Qin? With no choice, Tan Yang rented the room next to her apartment to house the entourage.

Tan Yang knew Bi Qingtang adored Yan Qin, but when she saw a butterfly-shaped hairpin with a diamond as large as a yellow bean in Yan Qin’s hair, she couldn’t approve of such indulgence. So, that Saturday afternoon when she came to pick up Yan Qin, she proactively asked if Bi Qingtang was home. Uncle Chen was delighted, as if a long-awaited event had finally come to pass.

Beaming, the wrinkles on his face gathered together, “Yes! Yes! He’s upstairs! Let me take you to him!” As if afraid Tan Yang would change her mind, Uncle Chen hurriedly led her up the stairs. Observing his somewhat stooped figure ahead, Tan Yang was startled to realize how much Uncle Chen had aged this year. She softly said from behind, “Uncle Chen, you must take care of yourself. You’re not young anymore.” Uncle Chen stopped, grasping the stair rail, glanced back at Tan Yang, sighed, “My health’s fine, but I just hope you two are well. Otherwise, I won’t rest easy meeting the old master.” He took a few more steps, then added, “The young master’s smoking more and more these days. Say something to him, will you?”

At the door, Tan Yang waited for Uncle Chen to go in and speak to Bi Qingtang, but Uncle Chen smiled, waved her off, and whispered, “You go in yourself!” His face, at that moment, was like a mischievous child, utterly unlike the reserved, composed Uncle Chen she knew.

Tan Yang knocked gently. No answer. After a while, she knocked again. An impatient voice came from inside, “Uncle Chen, just come in!” Tan Yang cleared her throat, “It’s me, Tan Yang.” Silence for a moment, then hurried footsteps, and the door flew open. They stood on either side of the door. Tan Yang saw the bitter, forced smile on Bi Qingtang’s face and steadied herself, “Boss Bi, I have something to discuss with you.” The title ‘Boss Bi’ wiped the smile off his face; he gripped the door, turned aside, sighed, then turned back with the practiced, convivial manner of a seasoned host, “Come in, come in, let’s talk.”

Once inside, they sat facing each other. Bi Qingtang picked up the teapot from the table, poured water for Tan Yang, and asked warmly, “How is the hospital? Busy?” Tan Yang replied, “It’s fine. Hospitals are always like that.” Bi Qingtang nodded, “I imagine you’re always busy,” pushing the full teacup toward her, adding simply, “Have some tea.”

Tan Yang nodded her thanks, but didn’t drink, going straight to the point, “Last week I saw Yan Qin wearing a diamond hairpin. Isn’t that a bit too extravagant for a six- or seven-year-old?” Bi Qingtang thought for a moment, “Oh, that. She saw Sister Fang Ya wearing a pair and liked them.” “Even so, she shouldn’t wear it. What child wears something that represents a lifetime’s savings for an ordinary family on her head?” Bi Qingtang smiled unconcerned, “As long as she’s happy, and I can afford it, what’s the harm?” He paused, sighed, “Besides, I can’t give her a mother, so how could I refuse her anything else?”

Tan Yang was struck dumb by his words, her heart tightening, unsure what to say. The silence stretched between them. After a while, Bi Qingtang conceded, “Fine, she won’t wear it anymore. I’ll be more careful in the future.” He pushed the teacup closer to her, “Have some tea before it gets cold.” Seeing his earnestness, Tan Yang took the cup and drank. The moment the tea touched her lips, she froze.

It was the latest Jasmine Dragon Pearl from Fuzhou, her favorite tea. Tan Yang loved its refreshing fragrance. She had once brewed it for Bi Qingtang, but he’d tasted it, frowned, and complained it smelled too much like cosmetics. Remembering this, Tan Yang noticed the steaming teapot by Bi Qingtang’s hand—he hadn’t drunk any, only poured a cup for her.

Did he brew this tea every Saturday, waiting for her? With this thought, Tan Yang swallowed the tea slowly, then finished the cup with great care. Bi Qingtang sat opposite, smoking. When Tan Yang set down her cup and rose to leave, she noticed the ivory cigarette holder in his hand, decorated with a golden, oddly shaped dragon, gold edges at both ends—a peculiar addition, yet still the same cigarette holder as before. Tan Yang thought for a moment, then said, “Uncle Chen says your smoking has gotten worse. He’s worried, wants you to cut back.” Bi Qingtang was taken aback, set the holder softly on the table, and nodded with a smile.

As Tan Yang walked through the garden holding Yan Qin’s hand, she suddenly remembered Bi Qingtang’s room had a view of the entire path and garden leading into the Bi residence. She paused and said to Yan Qin, “Say goodbye to Daddy—he’s watching from the third floor.” Yan Qin turned, waved at the upstairs window, then giggled, grabbed her mother’s hand, and continued on.

Upstairs, Bi Qingtang smiled and waved back, though he knew they couldn’t see him. Only when the two figures got into the car and drove off, disappearing from sight, did he lower his head and grip the teacup, tracing each line on its surface.

Embracing her daughter in the car, Tan Yang thought: avoiding him isn’t a long-term solution. After all, he is Yan Qin’s father; they cannot avoid each other forever. She must learn to be braver, more detached. Sooner or later, she must be strong enough to face him calmly.

Two weeks later, on a rainy evening, Tan Yang didn’t go home. Standing at her office window, she saw Zhang Xiangning and Liu Fazhu walking hand in hand in the rain. Liu Fazhu held an umbrella but didn’t open it; rain drenched them, yet they seemed oblivious, smiling sweetly and heedlessly. This must be the bliss of mutual love—making people relive childhood, do silly things, speak foolish words, easily satisfied, easily amused. Zhang Xiangning had finally found her happiness, a man who loved medicine and loved her even more.

Tan Yang’s life gradually found a rhythm: weekends spent picking up her daughter, weekdays at work, evenings reading at home or dining at Lin Zhiju’s house. Occasionally, she’d go to the movies or see a comedy with Zhang Xiangning and Liu Fazhu. As their relationship stabilized, Tan Yang became the occasional third wheel, knowing that sweet love needs an audience too.

But Tan Yang spent most time at Zhao Ling’s house. The couple had their secret business, often absent at night, and the elderly maid couldn’t manage three mischievous boys alone. Zhao Ling would call Tan Yang after work to help. Even the most unruly children have their charms—the eldest was ten, the youngest five, all calling “Auntie, Auntie,” crowding her. At bedtime, they sprawled across Zhao Ling’s big bed, demanding stories. Though exhausting and noisy, those moments were full of joy. Zhao Ling often joked about her privilege—having a Western-trained pediatrician as a nanny—but Tan Yang knew Zhao Ling’s true intention: she feared Tan Yang would be too lonely at home.

So, a woman must have three or five close friends. Even if parents pass away, children grow up, husbands leave, as long as friends are by her side, life will never be too bleak.

In these fulfilling and orderly days, Tan Yang gradually found a new trajectory for her life. Like clear water, quiet times are best for healing—the scar may never heal, but it is buried deeper.

Autumn arrived in the blink of an eye; the plane tree leaves by the roadside turned yellow, and Tan Yang’s hospital became ever more respectable. She’d often heard Bi Qingtang lament that honest business was hard, profits scant. Yet, when it was her turn to run the most difficult hospital, everything went smoothly—no obstacles at all. Tan Yang had cured two children with complex illnesses, earning a reputation and even making the newspapers. As a pediatrician, she was slowly becoming known in Shanghai. Consequently, some dignitaries invited her to their homes to treat their sons and daughters. So, when a sharply dressed officer brought her a note written by a prominent figure, asking her to make a house call, Tan Yang thought nothing of it—she donned her white coat, picked up her medical kit, and went along.

The car drove to the outskirts of Shanghai, into a fortress-like compound with gray walls, guarded by armed soldiers and bustling officers. At every gate, soldiers stepped aside for her car and stood respectfully. Passing through gate after gate, the car finally stopped in front of a red-brick building. Its windows were few and drawn with curtains; a small patch of grass flanked the walkway—the only signs of domestic life Tan Yang saw inside the place.

Along the way, she asked the officer escorting her about the child’s age and symptoms, but he replied seriously that Deputy Lin had instructed him to fetch Dr. Tan; he knew nothing else. Tan Yang guessed the building housed a senior officer’s family, and now the child was ill.

The lobby downstairs bustled with people carrying files; they paid little heed to Tan Yang in her white coat. But Deputy Lin, waiting by the stairs, stared dumbstruck at her. When Tan Yang asked about the patient, he finally collected himself, hurried ahead, “Follow me, Miss Tan, this way!”

As they neared the third floor, a shorter officer came down, greeted Deputy Lin with a smile. When his gaze fell on Tan Yang, he was visibly startled, then shot Deputy Lin a meaningful look, pointed toward Tan Yang, and whispered, “Is that…?” Deputy Lin nodded, “Deputy Li, we’re heading up.” Deputy Li replied, “Go on!” Then, after a quick glance at Tan Yang, he shoved Deputy Lin, called him an idiot, and rushed to Tan Yang, grabbing her medical kit without a word, smiling, “Miss Tan, let me carry it!”

Tan Yang let him take the kit, wondering how Deputy Li knew her surname. When they reached the third floor, a young soldier carrying a kettle eyed Tan Yang as if he’d seen a ghost, leaving her a bit bewildered. They stopped before a large double door at the end of the hall. Deputy Lin respectfully opened it, saluted, and announced loudly, “Reporting, Miss Tan has arrived, Chief!”

The room was spacious and bright; a giant map hung by the window, beneath it a large table. A man, his military coat draped over his shoulders, sat at the desk with his back to the door, writing. Hearing Deputy Lin, his back stiffened; he cautiously placed the pen down, left hand pressed to his right chest, slowly stood and turned—

The figure before Tan Yang was both the upright, handsome youth from Jingye Middle School and yet not quite. Nearly ten years in the army had forged a calm, resolute air in him, commanding respect, but his smile was gentle and familiar—just as Tan Yang remembered from their school days. The three stars on his epaulettes gleamed in the sunlight, dazzling Tan Yang’s eyes.

After years apart, Xu Zhizhong now stood before Tan Yang, his smile warm and radiant as ever.

Bi Tan Ji 6462_ Bi Tan Ji Full Free Reading_64 (62) Reunion complete!