92 (90) The City Falls

The day they left the concession, before the adults had even had a chance to feel wistful, the vice-consul's home was already thrown into chaos by the wailing of two children. Yan Qin clung to the banister, crying and refusing to come downstairs, while Matthew, the consul's only son, sat at the front door throwing a tantrum, screaming that no one was allowed to move the belongings out. The deep friendship the two children had forged in just two months caught the adults completely off guard. For all their privileged lives and doting parents, growing up in sprawling mansions, what their childhood had lacked most was precisely a playmate.

When the children had cried themselves hoarse and tired themselves out, with both sets of parents coaxing and soothing, Bi Qingtang finally managed to carry his daughter into the car. Before they left, the consul's wife promised the children that she would bring Matthew to the Bi residence the very next day to see Yan Qin.

As the car passed the Bund, Yan Qin, who had been sulking in her mother's arms, suddenly raised her little hand and pointed out the window. Tan Yang and Bi Qingtang both looked out at the same time. The Statue of the Goddess of Victory on the banks of the Huangpu River had been blown apart, leaving only its pedestal, a pile of rubble stacked there, rattling and scraping in the damp, frigid river wind of deep winter. Beside it, workers in overalls climbed ladders to repair the shattered streetlamps.

The result of war was this: amid destruction carried out with no choice and no scruples, reconstruction proceeded step by step, until in the end, everything looked new again.

Yan Qin was exhausted by the time she got home, and after a hurried meal, Tan Yang settled the child down for her afternoon nap. When she came downstairs to leave, Bi Qingtang was standing at the door, fully dressed, smoking a cigarette. He said he was going to take a turn around the department store and would see her off along the way. Tan Yang agreed without a second thought. "Fine—I happen to have something to discuss with you."

Once they were seated in the car, before Tan Yang could even speak, Bi Qingtang cut in, "I know. Don't worry yourself over me." Tan Yang cast him a troubled glance. "You know exactly what I want to say. Look at you—you've been smoking less these past few weeks, and you're not as gaunt anymore. Your complexion has improved too." Bi Qingtang laughed and deflected, "Haven't you put on some weight yourself these two months? Clearly this has nothing to do with the opium and everything to do with the cook's skill. That's what really matters!"

Hearing this, Tan Yang grew anxious. "Can we not joke around? I'm being serious. You've finally gotten your craving down—if you throw it all away and relapse, it'll be even harder to quit!" Seeing how distressed she was, Bi Qingtang's heart softened, and he gave a slight nod. She continued, "Just keep controlling the craving the way you are now. Give it two or three more months and you'll be smoking even less. But when it comes time to fully quit, there will still be some suffering. When that day comes, stay at my hospital, and I'll help you through it!"

Bi Qingtang looked at her as if she'd proposed something dreadful, then said with mock solemnity, "How could that be? Do you know what opium addicts look like when they go through withdrawal? To make a spectacle of myself in front of you—I'd rather smoke myself to death!" Seeing Tan Yang's eyes redden with worry, he quickly added, "I can quit on my own. Little sister, don't you worry!" Then, leaning in closer, he said softly, "Whatever Big Brother promises you, he delivers. Rest easy."

When they reached the apartment building and Tan Yang got out of the car, Bi Qingtang gave a lazy smile and gestured up at the building. "There's one thing—don't be angry when I tell you. I had a telephone installed for you without mentioning it." "You have a key to my place?" "No, but I have my ways—not exactly respectable ones." Tan Yang's face showed displeasure, but after a moment's thought, she asked, her voice a little raw, "The world is unsafe. You're afraid that if something happens to me, I won't be able to reach you?" Bi Qingtang's gaze dimmed, and he nodded helplessly.

"What's the number?" Tan Yang turned back to ask him. Bi Qingtang gave a cryptic smile, touched his nose, and brushed it off. "Forgot." "It's Nannan's birthday, isn't it?" Tan Yang asked without hesitation. Bi Qingtang froze for a moment, then nodded with deep satisfaction. Then they looked at each other and laughed, perfectly in sync.

Bi Qingtang returned to the Bi residence in good spirits, but when Uncle Chen told him at the door that a high-ranking Japanese officer was waiting for him in the sitting room, his good mood soured instantly.

When Bi Qingtang entered the sitting room, Yan Qin was standing by the window looking outside, while the Japanese officer with the toothbrush mustache crouched beside her, wearing a feigned smile as he reached out to pat her head. The moment Bi Qingtang saw this, he lunged forward in a few swift strides and roughly shoved the Japanese officer's hand away. He stood in front of his daughter, blocking the man from her.

Startled by Bi Qingtang's sudden move, the Japanese officer then said in stiff Chinese, "You must be Boss Bi? My surname is Endo, rank of colonel. I have not come to your home with ill intentions—please do not misunderstand!" Aware of his own lapse in composure, Bi Qingtang explained with an easy, ordinary smile, "The child is young and very mischievous. I was afraid she might offend you, Colonel." With that, he let go of his daughter's arm. Yan Qin reached up asking to be held, but for once he kept a cold face and refused, sending the servants to take her upstairs.

"Boss Bi, your daughter is absolutely adorable. She is the most beautiful Chinese child I have ever seen!" Colonel Endo said gravely, watching the direction Yan Qin had gone. Bi Qingtang, however, looked put out, waving his hand dismissively. "Just a girl—as we say around here, a money-losing proposition!" Then he gestured the colonel to the sofa, all warmth and courtesy. "How rude of me. Please, sit, sit. I'm hardly worthy of a visit from a colonel of your stature…"

Tan Yang's hospital was set to resume operations after a brief period of restoration. When Lin Zhiju saw Tan Yang, she smiled and asked, "Yangyang, you didn't go to Chongqing?" Tan Yang tidied the things on her desk and smiled faintly. "Is it that Boss Bi hasn't left either?" Hearing this, Tan Yang looked at her with some surprise, but Lin Zhiju went on as if to herself, "I've seen him come looking for you several times. You're the calmest, most composed person I know, but the moment you talk to him, you get all flustered, like a girl of sixteen. Everyone can see it. So I told my old Wu—Liu Fazu will definitely go to Chongqing, but our Director Tan, that's not so certain."

But few things in this world are ever so certain. On the afternoon the hospital opened its doors again, Liu Fazu showed up, looking haggard and noticeably thinner. When everyone asked why he hadn't left, he said helplessly, "Too late. Before I could even board the train, the Japanese had already marched into Shanghai." Hearing this, they couldn't help but sigh for him. Tan Yang said to him in private, "Let's find a way—we have to get you to Chongqing. Xiangning is about to have her baby, and the more chaotic the war gets, the more a family should not be apart." At the mention of Zhang Xiangning, Liu Fazu lowered his head in great pain. After deliberating for a long while, he finally said haltingly, "The situation is too tense now. Don't take the risk. Let's wait a bit longer—there's no rush."

The next afternoon, Tan Yang spotted Fang Ya in the hospital corridor and greeted her with a smile. "Sister Fangya, what brings you here?" Fang Ya pulled her silver-grey fur coat tighter around herself and said coquettishly, "I've caught a cold and it won't go away. Thought I'd come get it checked!" Tan Yang glanced at the sign for the operating room behind Fang Ya and took her arm, saying, "Then you've come to the wrong place. Let me take you to Dr. Wu in internal medicine!" Fang Ya pulled her hand away, giggling. "Fine, fine, I know—I recognize all the big shots in your temple. I can find my own way. You go on about your business, don't mind me!" Seeing her say that, Tan Yang could only offer a few words of advice and go on her way.

Wu En's internal medicine office was diagonally across from Tan Yang's, and all afternoon Tan Yang never saw Fang Ya go in to see him. Instead, near the end of the day, as Tan Yang stood by the window drinking water, she saw Fang Ya leave the hospital together with Liu Fazu, who had just finished surgery—and Liu Fazu got into Fang Ya's car as if it were the most natural thing in the world…

The invaders swept southward, bathing the land in blood. Most people had not yet recovered from the shock of the national calamity when, in just two months, the occupied territories began to display a strange and motley cross-section of humanity.

Take the Hu family, so proud of its "scholarly heritage." Old Master Hu had become a high official in the "Reformed Government." As if that weren't enough, the shameless old man wanted to donate his cement factory—in which he held shares—to the Japanese for military construction. When he went to consult Old Master Zou, he'd barely opened his mouth before Zou was pointing his walking stick at his nose and cursing him out, nonstop for a full hour without catching his breath.

And the Hu family's eldest son, Hu Liancheng, had transformed himself into the chief of the judicial department in Shanghai's puppet government, strutting about with all the swagger of a man reeking of rottenness. The moment Tan Yang's hospital reopened, he went prowling around, fawning over her, saying that if she ever ran into trouble, she could come to him—now that he was who he was in Shanghai, the things that the Bis and Xus of the world couldn't manage, he could manage all of them. Tan Yang let him perform his little show, busy with her patients and ignoring him entirely. Hu Liancheng was just about to leave, feeling the pointlessness of it all, when Tan Yang glanced at the white steel watchband on his wrist and said softly, "The white iron is innocent."

"Green hills are fortunate to bury loyal bones; white iron was innocent to cast the traitor's form." It wasn't until he was getting into his car that Hu Liancheng remembered the line of poetry. He was instantly so furious he nearly jumped out of his skin—that woman had compared him to Qin Hui!

Because of Yan Qin's talent for painting, Tan Yang was afraid of holding the child back, so twice a week, after work, she would wolf down a quick meal and go to the Bi residence to teach her daughter to paint. Neither wind nor snow, no matter how harsh the weather, ever kept her away. Most of the time when Tan Yang arrived, Bi Qingtang was at home. While she taught Yan Qin, he would sit behind them and watch, staying for two hours at a stretch, leaving at most to take two phone calls in between.

Tan Yang told him that a child didn't need both parents sitting in on every lesson—he worked all day, so he should rest at night. Bi Qingtang stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and said, half-jokingly, "Can't you see? Accompanying Nannan is just a front. I'm sitting in, stealing lessons." Then, his smile fading slightly, he added, "The other day you said that the same painting looks different on silk versus on plain fabric. It reminded me of that year when you asked me to buy mounting paper for you at the shop. I thought the more expensive the better. When I bought the wrong one, you never said a word—you just stood there smiling."

By the time Tan Yang finished teaching and left each time, it was very late. Afraid of Japanese soldiers on the streets, Bi Qingtang always had someone drive behind her. When she got home and had just taken off her coat, the phone would ring. Bi Qingtang would ask if she'd arrived safely, then exchange a few brief words of idle chat, pass the phone to his daughter to say goodnight, and only then hang up. Sometimes he'd say, "That little foreign devil came by again today—wore a suit and bow tie, holding a box of candy, like he was some gentleman off to a date. A little brat who doesn't know his place." Other times he'd say, "That Fang Ya—she's no spring chicken, but she still does everything half-baked. Now, in the middle of all this chaos, she decides she wants to move house. Asked me to find her a big truck. Two weekends in a row and she still hasn't finished moving!"

In the two weeks before Chinese New Year, Bi Qingtang grew busier than ever. One day Tan Yang went to the Bi residence to teach his daughter and never saw him at all. When she returned to her apartment there was no call from him either, and she stayed up unusually late that night, lying in bed turning restlessly. With the city on edge and rumors flying, she worried for his safety, thought about calling the Bi residence to ask, but felt she had no standing, no reason to.

Near midnight, the phone suddenly rang. Tan Yang rushed to answer it. On the other end, he asked in all seriousness, "Are you home?" She almost laughed at the question. "Yes, I've been home for ages!" "Ah—I only just got back. It's quite late now. I didn't wake you, did I?" "No, I hadn't gone to sleep yet." At that, Bi Qingtang burst out laughing on the other end of the line.

He brought the receiver closer and said, his tone suggestive, "I know why you haven't slept." Tan Yang was left speechless, not knowing how to respond. But Bi Qingtang abruptly changed the subject, his voice turning serious. "I just went drinking with the Japanese. They want me to be chairman of the New Asia Peace Promotion Association. I stalled for a long time. Tonight at dinner they offered me considerable benefits. Tempting, I'll admit, but I didn't give them a direct answer. I pretended to be drunk and thought I'd come home and talk it over with you."

Tan Yang slowly sat down in a chair and asked patiently, "They offered you so much, and you still didn't accept. What are your reservations?" Bi Qingtang replied bluntly, "The label of traitor is too ugly to bear." "You're only worried about your reputation?" Bi Qingtang cleared his throat and said with clarity, "If the Japanese get kicked back to their own country, collaborators won't come to any good end." After a pause, he added with resignation, "And I think if I became that chairman, you'd look down on me."

Hearing his answer, Tan Yang let out a faint sigh. None of his reasons were grand or noble, but the sheer honesty of them was rare in Bi Qingtang, and that surprised her somewhat. Seeing that she was silent, he probed, "Little sister, what do you think?"

In the past, Tan Yang would have spoken to him of righteousness and principle, of how as a Chinese person he should have a conscience and never help the invaders bully their own countrymen. But this time, she did not say any of that. Holding the receiver, she spoke softly and gently, "Setting everything else aside—back in Shandong, our father was a bandit, and robbing people's homes hardly made him a good man. But even he had a rule: he only robbed merchants and gentry, and he would never help the officials oppress common folk. Later, when I first came to Shanghai, because of the business you ran, I always kept my guard up around you. But Sister Ling told me that even if your chamber of commerce had plenty of faults, you would never help the foreigners in the concession bully your own countrymen. In fact, the people of Shanghai, when they were wronged by the foreigners, would come to you for protection. That's when I stopped being so afraid of you. I thought that deep down you must be a good man—I just hadn't seen it clearly yet."

After Tan Yang finished speaking, Bi Qingtang was silent for a long while. At last, suppressing his surging emotions, he said earnestly, "Little sister, I understand now. Good thing I talked it over with you—otherwise, for a few coins, I'd have lost my head and let the Japanese squat on my neck and do their business. I've walked upright for half my life; to end up as the laughingstock of Shanghai—that would be a fine joke indeed!"

Tan Yang nodded as she cried, tears streaming down her face. The line fell into silence. After a long moment, uncertain and uneasy, Bi Qingtang pressed her, "Little sister, why aren't you saying anything? What are you thinking?" Tan Yang wiped the tears from her face and answered softly, "I just can't quite believe that you would actually consult me about something."