Nicotine Craving

It was a long time before Xu Zhizhong could summon the courage to speak. His voice trembled as he said, “I’m sorry, Yangyang, I really…” He paused, taking two deep breaths. “Luodian has fallen—completely fallen.” After a moment, his voice rasped, thick with the threat of tears, “Yangyang, Xiangsheng—Xiangsheng is dead!”

Tan Yang felt her heart lurch. Zhang Xiangsheng was to Xu Zhizhong as Zhang Xiangning was to her—perhaps even more so. They were brothers forged in the crucible of war. She knew this well. Yangyang looked up, catching the ghostly, pallid moonlight pooling on Xu Zhizhong’s back, which shook with grief. The chill seeped into her bones, making her shudder.

“This morning, Luodian was already lost. The main forces began to retreat. Commander Sui was left behind, and when Xiangsheng learned of it, he went back to help. He said Commander Sui was old and could not be lost—otherwise, how could he face Tingting? In the end, Commander Sui escaped, but Xiangsheng, covering the retreat behind him, was ripped apart by a Japanese shell. There wasn’t even a whole body left! Commander Sui risked his life to find a truck and brought back everything from the shell crater—all of it. He called for me, said I was Xiangsheng’s closest friend, that I knew him best, and asked me to help piece him together. He insisted on bringing the boy home!”

“Yangyang, Yangyang, how can there be so many pieces in a human body? Do you know what they unloaded from that truck? Piles and piles—faces and bones no longer white, but black and red, fragments of people all mixed together. Even the earth was stained black with blood. The men who had been eating and talking with me just the day before—by the next, they’d become this. Watching Commander Sui, tears streaming down his wrinkled face as he searched for Xiangsheng in that heap of flesh—I was terrified, sick to my stomach, but I had to pretend to be calm, to comfort him, to help him piece Xiangsheng back together, bit by bit!”

At this, Xu Zhizhong broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. “We went to Guangzhou for Whampoa together, fought the Japanese in the northeast together. For years, we ate, slept, studied, trained, bathed—everything—side by side. I knew his body as well as his own parents did. But I still couldn’t piece him together!” He turned to look at Tan Yang, his eyes hollow with terror. “I don’t know—I don’t know which length of intestine was his, nor which finger. I searched again and again but couldn’t find even half his face! Do you know how horrifying it is to piece together such a shattered body? The worst part is—the owner of that body was only recently lying next to me, drinking, watching the moon, talking about women!”

Tan Yang had already been weeping with him, but seeing him like this, she realized his mind was close to breaking. She quickly gripped his shoulders and called his name, “Zhizhong, Zhizhong, you can’t keep thinking about it. You can’t remember it in such detail. No matter how terribly your dearest die, you still have to live. So remember only his death, forget how he died!”

As she spoke, images of her uncle’s corpse and her father’s swollen, ashen face at death flashed before her eyes—she knew those were the features of severe renal failure.

Xu Zhizhong squeezed his eyes shut and slumped helplessly into Tan Yang’s arms, sobbing, “Yangyang, I’m useless. I’m afraid to die—more and more afraid. I fear death means I’ll never see you again. I fear that if I die, with Xiangsheng gone, you couldn’t even piece me together!” Tan Yang, weeping, soothed him like a child, patting his back, “No, you won’t die!”

“So many have died in battle, but I always thought I’d be the exception—or rather, everyone deludes themselves that they’ll be the exception. Just like Xiangsheng—on the way to Luodian, he said that once he returned, he’d marry Miss Sui. Maybe it was hasty, but when love is strong, who cares to wait? He even teased me for being slow, said by the time I brought you home, he and Tingting’s child would already be calling him ‘Papa’!”

“I envied Xiangsheng then, but I knew—feelings are not the same. We’re different. My being with you is a slow process; you won’t let go so quickly. If I push too hard, you’ll pull away. I understand—the gulf between us is huge, and you’d never look back. Over time, love unreturned will fade, no matter how deep it once was. But as long as I have patience, three or five years from now, you’ll be mine; you’ll live with me. I even dare say, twenty or thirty years later, our love would rival what you once had, because deep down, you approve of everything I do. In marriage, love is not enough; you need shared values and principles. All I have to do is get the pace and the distance right. But—this war!” Xu Zhizhong’s voice was threaded with bitterness and resentment.

“Do you know how much I hate this war? It’s ruined everything. I can’t control myself anymore; I’m completely at its mercy. My life, my feelings, my dignity—they’ve all been ravaged. I don’t know if I’ll survive tomorrow, so I want your love now—all of it. I can’t wait. I want to die without regret! But love is so intangible—I can’t grasp it. All I could do was throw away my upbringing, my self-control, and act like a brute, tearing at your clothes, wanting to possess you. This is my true nature, revealed by war. Before, I said I wouldn’t marry so as not to leave a girl a widow. But now, with the war like this, I love you so much, and all I want is to satisfy my animal desires, ignoring your feelings, hurting you.”

Tan Yang gazed at his tormented face, comforting him softly, “It’s not your fault. You know it’s all the war. And besides, loving someone, wanting them, is perfectly normal. Don’t blame yourself!”

Xu Zhizhong sighed, “But you didn’t want it. What’s the difference between that and—? I’m actually relieved—I came to my senses just now. Otherwise, if I had gone through with it, I’d go to Luodian alone tomorrow and seek death, unable to face you ever again.”

Tan Yang paused. She agreed with him; sooner or later, they would live together. But this war had changed so much. Thinking this, she made up her mind. Though filled with despair, she forced a smile and said, “Who says I don’t want to?” With that, she took a deep breath and reached to unbutton his shirt. As her hand touched Xu Zhizhong’s chest, she felt him tremble. When she undid the second button, he suddenly pressed her hand, his breath unsteady, and abruptly stood up, walking to the window.

On the desk beneath the window was a bottle of cold water. Xu Zhizhong poured himself a large glass and drank it down, set the glass aside, and when he spoke again, his voice was calm and gentle as before. “Yangyang, as much as I want to, I can’t. If I got you this way, I’d never respect myself again. In life, one must choose between what one wants and what one can live with. I’d rather choose the latter.” Hearing this, Tan Yang nodded in deep agreement. This was precisely what she admired most about him—and what she herself aspired to.

Xu Zhizhong slowly fastened his shirt collar, thought for a long time, then said earnestly, “Yangyang, will you marry me? Even if you can’t fully accept me yet, we don’t have to live together. I just hope—hope that while I’m alive, I can hear people call you Mrs. Xu. And I hope,” his gaze dimmed, “I hope that if I die, you can stand at my funeral as Mrs. Xu, accepting condolences with dignity. If you can, then,” Xu Zhizhong’s expression grew resolute, “I will live without regret, and die without regret!” Tears shimmered in Tan Yang’s eyes as she nodded softly. “Yes.”

Xu Zhizhong went alone to Yan Qin’s room to sleep. When he awoke, daylight was streaming in. He heard Tan Yang moving about in the next room. It was early winter, and the sun outside was bright and warm. He had always been strict with himself, rising at dawn to study or work. But today, he lingered in bed for half an hour before getting up. After washing, Tan Yang brought congee to the table, and his bloodstained uniform had been washed and was drying by the stove.

After ten years in the military, such warmth and leisure, like that of an ordinary household, had become a distant dream for Xu Zhizhong. Watching Tan Yang’s profile, happiness overflowed within him like clear spring water.

Before leaving, he turned back to Tan Yang, hesitant. “What is it?” “Does what you said last night still count?” Tan Yang, half-laughing, nodded. Seeing this, Xu Zhizhong grinned, and pressed his luck, “So, when do you think we should have the wedding?” Tan Yang lowered her head and replied without thinking, “Whatever you decide.”

Xu Zhizhong went downstairs with a light step. At the landing, he turned and gave Tan Yang a brilliant smile—the kind only a clean, unscarred youth could have, untouched by death and war.

There are many forms of love in this world, none better or worse than others, but there is one kind that always brings strength and hope to both hearts.

Lieutenant Li looked at Xu Zhizhong, who was getting into the car, with a strange expression. He checked his watch and asked tentatively, “Is my watch broken? It’s almost nine.” Xu Zhizhong nodded. “You’re only getting up now, sir?” Another nod, his face flushed. Lieutenant Li burst out laughing, leaning in mischievously, “So, did the unbreakable golden image fall last night?” Xu Zhizhong’s face turned crimson. “Nonsense!” Li grinned, “I knew something would happen when I saw you go upstairs last night!” Xu Zhizhong scowled, “Then why didn’t you stop me?” Li raised his brows, as if to say, “I knew it would go this way.” Xu Zhizhong ignored him and rummaged under the seat.

“Sir, what are you looking for?” “A calendar.” Then, after a pause, “To pick a wedding date!” Li smacked his lips. “Sir, you’re a good man. What’s there to pick? Let’s do it this weekend. In these chaotic times, seize the day!” Xu Zhizhong frowned. “Nonsense. This is a major life event—I can’t let Yangyang feel slighted.” He pointed at the calendar. “Two weeks from now—November fourteenth, the twelfth of the tenth lunar month, and it’s a weekend.”

With that, he ordered the driver, “Let’s go to Suiyuan first.” Li grinned, “Going to fetch the old lady’s ring, eh?” Xu Zhizhong nodded, face brimming with happiness.

When Tan Yang arrived at the temporary military hospital that morning, she found Sui Wanting sitting dazed in her room, silent, tears streaming down her face. By afternoon, she had changed and was tending to the wounded again. People marveled at her strength and courage, but two days later, at dusk, Sui Wanting suddenly broke down, wailing uncontrollably. No one could calm her. Lin Zhiju and a few nurses had to restrain her. Commander Sui and his wife rushed over and took her away. After finishing surgery, Tan Yang asked what had happened. Lin Zhiju sighed, unable to bear it, and said, “Miss Sui had hoped to bear General Zhang a child, but even that last hope was denied her by fate.” Tan Yang said with aching heart, “She’s such a good girl—why can’t Heaven show her some mercy?”

Smelling the faint scent of blood and gunpowder in the air, Tan Yang’s hatred of war grew deeper. If not for the war, Zhang Xiangsheng and Sui Wanting, so well-matched and in love, would have had a happy union. But the war had destroyed it all.

That evening, Xu Zhizhong placed an old silver ring set with a watermelon tourmaline on Tan Yang’s finger. Looking at his open, upright face, Tan Yang told herself she should be content. A man like him—he was blessed by heaven itself. She should cherish him all the more.

On that Sunday evening, Tan Yang took Yan Qin back to the Bi residence. Bi Qingtang was waiting at the door, and when he saw Tan Yang, he greeted her with cautious politeness. Since their argument on the phone months ago, he always spoke with great care, weighing every word—so unlike the Bi Qingtang of old. Even when she mentioned working as a temporary doctor with the army—a thing he would once have vehemently opposed—he only replied after much thought, “Be careful. Don’t tire yourself out. As long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters.”

After settling her daughter upstairs, Tan Yang came down and overheard Bi Qingtang on the phone, talking about Hong Kong, docks, and factories. Since the outbreak of the Battle of Shanghai, many businessmen had moved their enterprises inland, and then relocated their families. Tan Yang stood in a daze, then hurried back upstairs, clutching her daughter tightly as tears welled in her eyes. Perhaps next weekend, or the one after, this place would be empty—everyone gone. She was deeply afraid of that.

Later, as she passed Bi Qingtang on the stairs—he was still on the phone, his back to her—she couldn’t help but notice how thin he’d become. Men usually gain weight with age, but now he was even thinner than when she first met him in Tongli.

When Bi Qingtang saw her coming down, he quickly hung up and said with a smile, “Leaving already? It gets dark early now. Be careful driving.” Tan Yang shook her head, “No, I have something to say to you.” He was surprised, but also pleased, hastily ordering the servants to bring refreshments. As soon as Tan Yang sat on the sofa, tea and pastries arrived—just as she liked them, still warm.

Since their argument months before, Bi Qingtang had been waiting for a chance to ease the tension and mend their relationship. With old wounds unhealed and new grievances added, he dared not act rashly.

Night had fallen. The dark-edged sunset poured through the windows, like the glow of colored glass lamps—ancient, warm, and lovely. The servants withdrew, leaving only the two of them and the scent of sweet, sticky pastries. Bi Qingtang poured tea, jasmine fragrance filling the room. He was trying to create a warm, gentle atmosphere—a home, their home as it once was. He hoped that in such a moment, their relationship could be eased, perhaps even rekindled, though the latter hope was vanishingly slim.

Tan Yang understood his intention but could not speak the words he longed to hear. What she had to say was the opposite of what he wished, but it had to come from her own lips. Every life needs closure—for others, and for oneself. Besides, she knew his temper well. If he heard it from someone else, the fallout would be far worse.

“No need to fuss. I just have a few words—once I’ve said them, I’ll go,” her voice was clear and calm. Bi Qingtang’s hand trembled as he set down the teapot, steadying himself, and pushed a teacup toward her, but at that moment he caught sight of the tourmaline ring on her finger, its watermelon hue gleaming in the setting sun.

He straightened, staring at her, his face dark as water, his voice sharp and threatening, “What do you want to say? Huh?” The menace in his tone would intimidate anyone—except Tan Yang, who was both gentle and astonishingly brave.

She frowned, trying to keep her voice casual, “It’s like this, I…” Bi Qingtang, furious, hurled his teacup to the floor and shouted, “Shut up!” He stood, glaring, eyes bloodshot. Angry words and curses threatened to burst forth, but he held back. The pain of their last argument had taught him—if he lashed out in the heat of the moment, his own suffering would only multiply, endlessly.

He panted, struggling to contain his anger and sorrow, and finally, in a hoarse whisper, said, “I know. You can go.”

Uncle Chen, hearing the commotion, hurried downstairs to see Bi Qingtang standing rigidly with his back to Tan Yang. Tears rimmed Tan Yang’s eyes. She paused, then left. Uncle Chen, sensing disaster, wanted to ask but was afraid, so he hurried after Tan Yang.

He caught her just outside the door, anxious, “Young mistress, what happened this time?” Tan Yang wiped her tears and said, “Uncle Chen, you’re too old to be worrying about us.” Uncle Chen sighed, his face full of care, “How can I not worry? Every time you two meet, my heart is in my throat, afraid you’ll quarrel again. Then the young master will be miserable—until the next time he sees you. Take pity on him, don’t fight anymore.”

Tan Yang felt a pang and, through sobs, said, “Don’t worry, Uncle Chen. I’ll never fight with him again, I promise.” She hurried off, got in the car. Uncle Chen, hearing her words, first felt relieved, then was seized by a hollow dread. He ran to the car and clung to the window, his voice trembling, “Young mistress, you can’t! The young master can’t let you go—can you really let him go?” Tears streamed down Tan Yang’s face. She choked out, “What if I can’t? It’s no use. If we keep dragging things out, neither of us will ever let go, and we’ll both be miserable forever!”

Uncle Chen shook his head in panic, “No, you’ll kill him this way. His smoking is out of control now,” and the old man, tears streaming down, leaned against the car, his voice barely a whisper, “He’s smoking opium now!”

Over ten years ago, he’d been in the opium trade but despised addicts, saying, “No matter how good something is, if it’s not meant to be touched, you shouldn’t touch it. If you lack self-control, you deserve to suffer.” Later, he’d said, “Little sister, you are my opium.”

Author’s note: A few days ago was the anniversary of September 18th, and I heard the air raid siren again. I salute the heroes of the war of resistance and hope for world peace, that war may never return.