Refuge

The gunfire outside ebbed and flowed, each second of endurance steeped in agony. As dusk descended, Tan Yang sat rigid and unmoving, her back soaked with cold sweat. She did her best to reassure herself with reason: no matter how fierce the battle, it would not raze all of Shanghai to the ground. There was still enough rice at home to last for some time; as long as she stayed inside and the Japanese did not come knocking, she should be safe.

As she calculated her situation, a faint knocking sounded amidst the intervals of gunfire. At first, Tan Yang thought it was her own frightened imagination, but then the knocking turned into pounding, growing louder. Yet, the distant artillery shattered the sound into fragments, making her even more anxious. Flustered, she disengaged the safety of her pistol, trembling as she raised it, her finger on the trigger, and slowly approached the door.

Suddenly, the gunfire and shelling outside ceased, bringing an eerie silence. There were two impatient kicks at the door, and a voice called out clearly from outside, “Little sister, it’s me! Are you there?” Her taut nerves relaxed in an instant. Tan Yang leaned against the door, catching her breath. She hurriedly unlocked it, and as soon as it cracked open, it was pushed wide from outside.

Bi Qingtang entered, gripping Tan Yang’s wrist tightly, his face flushed with anger. “Didn’t you hear me calling? Why did you take so long to open the door? I thought…” He paused, his voice faltering. “You scared me…” He suddenly fell silent, gazing at her. Tan Yang lowered her head, eyes reddened, and caught sight of the pistol in her hand. Panic-stricken, she tried to pull away from Bi Qingtang, but he held fast. She cried out in alarm, “The gun, the gun!” Bi Qingtang followed her gaze, understood, and laughed, patting her shoulder to comfort her. “I see it, don’t be afraid. Let go, give it to me.” He took hold of the barrel.

The pistol was small, with a narrow trigger guard. Tan Yang withdrew her finger hesitantly, careful not to touch the trigger. Seeing her caution, Bi Qingtang laughed and teased, “If you touch it, so be it—I’m holding the gun. Why not try firing a shot?” Tan Yang glared at him, caught between laughter and tears. He laughed even harder, and somehow, her fear dissipated; she withdrew her hand calmly.

Bi Qingtang expertly re-engaged the safety, ejected the bullet, and weighed the delicate, American-made pistol in his palm, raising his brow in disdain. “Pretty, but useless. No point keeping it.” Then, without waiting for her protest, he opened the window and tossed the gun out.

Turning back, Bi Qingtang said, “When it gets darker, we’ll leave. I’ve found a place that’s fairly safe. I’ve just settled Nannan there. You’ll come with me for a while.” His words seemed to invite her opinion, but his tone held no room for discussion—it was a notification, not a choice. Tan Yang glanced at him quickly then shook her head, troubled.

Bi Qingtang ignored her response, gazing out the window. It was not yet fully dark. He pulled up a chair and sat, taking a cigarette from his pocket and fitting it to the mouthpiece with deliberate leisure.

Moments later, a plane roared overhead. A shell was dropped, exploding nearby with a deafening blast. Bi Qingtang reached out and pulled Tan Yang into his arms. She closed her eyes, pressed against his chest, clutching his arm. Amidst the smoke and fire of wartime Shanghai, they clung to each other as one, sharing fate, dependent upon each other for life and death.

The shockwave rattled the glass, leaving minds blank. In that instant, Tan Yang thought they might have died just like that. Though she feared death, she was grateful that, at this brink of life and death, they were still together.

The plane circled back, dropping another bomb. Bi Qingtang covered her ears, kissed her forehead, and whispered, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

After a while, the surroundings grew quieter. Bi Qingtang lowered his hands, sighing in deep frustration. “Nannan has always been terrified of thunder. Now, with Shanghai in chaos, whenever she hears gunfire or shelling, she cries and hides in the wardrobe, demanding I join her and cover her ears. The wardrobe’s so small—how could I fit inside? In these troubled times, a child needs her mother more than ever.” Hearing this, Tan Yang’s nose stung with sadness; she nodded through her tears, “Yes, yes…” Bi Qingtang squeezed her hand and smiled.

When night finally fell, Bi Qingtang told Tan Yang it was time to leave. She needed nothing but to change out of her high heels for easier walking. Tan Yang looked at the pitch-black outside—most homes dared not turn on their lights, and gunfire still raged. She muttered anxiously, “How can we possibly walk in this?”

Bi Qingtang checked several pistols, strapping them to his legs and chest, patiently explaining, “The darker it is, the better. You can’t see the road, but neither can anyone see you. It’s safer.” “Then why did you come for me in broad daylight?” Tan Yang asked, half complaining. Bi Qingtang grinned, “I was in a hurry—nothing could scare me. But now, taking you back, I need to value my life a bit more.” He eyed her after she changed into flat shoes, now half a head shorter than usual, and smiled meaningfully, “Reminds me of when you were in school.”

Outside the apartment, there was a dark green car parked at the entrance. Tan Yang asked, “You’re leaving the car here?” Bi Qingtang glanced at it, “Just leave it. If it gets blown up, so be it.” Tan Yang walked a few steps ahead, then looked back uneasily, “What a pity.” Bi Qingtang walked in front, responding with a smile, “Don’t worry. In a few days, I’ll let you use two gold bars to buy a new car!” “What did you say?” Tan Yang asked in disbelief, but Bi Qingtang merely laughed.

The winter night was pitch black. Occasionally, a large truck passed, its headlights cutting through the darkness like a pole piercing the sky. Gunfire crackled everywhere, impossible to tell from where.

The main roads were too dangerous. Fortunately, after years on the Bund, Bi Qingtang knew every nook and cranny of the city. He led Tan Yang through alleys and lanes, their path twisting, with rubble and gravel from recent explosions. Bi Qingtang held her arm; she struggled, stumbling with each step. After much hesitation, he finally offered, “Little sister, let me carry you.” Tan Yang refused without thinking, and he didn’t insist. After a while, he said, “Fine, but if someone shoots from behind, you’ll have to take the bullet for me.” “They could shoot from the front, too!” Tan Yang retorted. Startled by her response, Bi Qingtang answered sincerely, “I’m not afraid!”

You’re not afraid, but I am. That’s why I won’t let you carry me, Tan Yang thought bitterly.

In this hail of stray bullets, as long as they could walk hand in hand, neither was afraid to die. Only the thought of the other dying frightened them—especially if the other died for their sake.

They walked for a long time, encountering danger at every turn. Twice, the street ahead erupted in firefights. Bi Qingtang, who had been inseparable from his guns all his life, could distinguish the positions and numbers of combatants by their gunfire, allowing them to avoid the worst. It was a perilous journey, but they managed to skirt disaster.

When Tan Yang grew weary and could barely walk, she finally asked, “Where exactly are we going?” Bi Qingtang steadied her, laughing, “You’ve walked with me for two hours before remembering to ask where I’m taking you? Aren’t you afraid I might sell you?” Tan Yang tucked her hair behind her ear, panting, “You have the leisure to joke—must mean we’re nearly there!” Bi Qingtang happily patted her back, helping her catch her breath. “You’ve always been clever. If I were to sell you, I’d end up losing myself first! We’re going to the International Settlement, to the American vice consul’s house. Right now, that’s the safest place in all of China!”

Tan Yang nodded repeatedly. “I thought you’d taken the child to Hong Kong. I didn’t expect you’d find such a place!” Bi Qingtang snorted derisively, “Me? Go to Hong Kong? You think I’d leave on my own? Even Commander Xu knows that as long as you’re in Shanghai for a single day, I won’t step out of the Bi mansion! I was afraid you wouldn’t find me, but instead of you, I got a call from Xu Zhizhong. He told me you refused to leave with him, chose to stay home alone. Listening to his voice on the phone, he was nearly in tears. I thought it was strange—a man with ten thousand soldiers can’t manage to take a single woman away. Pathetic. I once thought to let him have you—must have been the opium messing up my brain!”

Annoyed, Tan Yang retorted, “Do you think everyone’s like you?” Bi Qingtang smiled, “You know, nobody is like me.” He sighed, a touch of bitterness in his voice. “Lately, every time I close my eyes, I dream of that night before you gave birth to Nannan. You promised me, no matter what happened, you would never leave Shanghai. So even if you leave, I wouldn’t go.” His words startled Tan Yang, and the sadness and longing in her heart deepened. What he said echoed the dreams she’d been having all this time. So, if he left, she wouldn’t leave either.

They arrived at the vice consul’s house, and Bi Qingtang took out a folded handkerchief from his pocket, tossed it into the fountain pool. Tan Yang asked, puzzled, “Why throw away a perfectly good handkerchief?” Bi Qingtang touched his nose, his tone ambiguous. “It’s no good—there was medicine on it.” “What kind of medicine?” “The kind they use in old operas—sedative powder!” “You?” “Me? I’m not Xu Zhizhong. At times like this, leaving or staying is not up to you!” Tan Yang grew angry at his words, and seeing her mood, Bi Qingtang quickly pulled her toward the house, urging, “Hurry inside. Nannan’s waiting, probably crying with Uncle Chen. Uncle Chen has feared no one in his life—not my father, not me—but he’s terrified of our precious daughter!”

When the door was opened, Yan Qin was nestled in Uncle Chen’s arms, her eyes teary as she stared at her father’s pocket watch. Seeing her parents enter, she dropped the watch and rushed over, sobbing and reaching for a hug. Tan Yang picked her up, pressing her cheek to her daughter’s. Bi Qingtang helped wipe her tears, soothing her gently, “Daddy said he’d be back with Mommy before nine, and he didn’t lie. Be good, don’t cry anymore.” Yan Qin clung to her mother’s neck, whining, “The cannons outside keep firing, and Mommy and Daddy were still out there!” Hearing this, Tan Yang’s tears flowed uncontrollably. Such relief and heartache—amidst upheaval of home and country, their daughter was growing up, becoming more sensible. Bi Qingtang embraced mother and daughter, trying to speak but choking up.

The distant rumble of artillery echoed. Watching the family embrace, Uncle Chen wiped his tears and murmured, “You all must take care. If anyone must die, let it be me.”

Yan Qin clung to her mother, refusing to undress or sleep even late into the night. Tan Yang sighed helplessly, “Nannan, look how sleepy you are. Why won’t you go to bed?” Yan Qin pouted, “I won’t. I’m afraid if I sleep, Mommy will leave!” Tan Yang gently undid her daughter’s braids, coaxing softly, “Sweet girl, Mommy won’t leave. With all these cannons outside, where could I possibly go?” Hearing this, Yan Qin sat up straight, big eyes gleaming as she grinned triumphantly at Bi Qingtang behind her mother. He smiled at his daughter and silently mouthed four words to her, “More clever than me.”

The vice consul’s house was not large. Bi Qingtang rented a small room by the stairs and an adjacent large bedroom. The little room had only a single bed; Uncle Chen stayed there. Tan Yang and her daughter slept in the big bed, while Bi Qingtang slept on the sofa beside them.

When they left the apartment that afternoon, Bi Qingtang wouldn’t let her bring anything. But to her surprise, in the midst of such chaos, he’d brought her nightgown, slippers, and everyday clothes. Even the few books she’d left behind at the Bi mansion, he’d brought, knowing her habit of reading before bed—never once forgetting.

After coaxing her daughter to sleep, Tan Yang sat under the lamp and opened a book—one she’d bought that year but never read before leaving the Bi mansion. Now, the book was well worn, as if someone had leafed through it many times. Thinking of this, she stole a glance at him from behind the book; he was reclining on the sofa, smiling at her.

Tan Yang’s heart fluttered with confusion; she hurriedly switched off the lamp, closed the book, and placed it by her pillow. In the unfamiliar room, breathing in the faint scent of him, she closed her eyes. A month’s worth of exhaustion swept over her, and she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep—deeper than she’d known in years.