Chapter One: Returning Overseas Travelers
1940.
The wind from the Huangpu River, carrying salty, damp air and black smoke from the ship's chimney, lashed against Qiao Yuan's face.
He stood on the deck of the "Ocean Cruiser" looking at the photo in his palm. It was an old photo of Lin Tang. She was wearing a moon-white cheongsam and standing under an old willow tree on the dock. The river breeze lifted the hem of her dress, and her smile was like a peach blossom in spring, bright enough to shine into people's hearts.
During his years in the United States, he underwent countless surgeries and heard doctors say several times that he might not be able to continue. But he persevered each time. He could understand Chen Kan's struggles abroad. He realized that Chen Kan, like himself, relied on his memories of Lin Tang and did everything he could to come back and see her. But he had even more to worry about than Chen Kan had back then. Every time the anesthesia wore off, he would grit his teeth and count her name, from "Lin Tang" to "our child." When he counted to the two thousandth time, the doctor said, "The tumor has been removed, Mr. Qiao. The days ahead are all earned by you."
"Sir, it's time to disembark." A sailor came over to remind him, and Qiao Yuan snapped out of his daze, carefully stuffing the photo into the inside pocket of his suit and grabbing his coat from under his arm to put it on.
His suit was custom-made in the United States; it was navy blue and impeccably pressed, but two buttons on the collar were undone, and he had a light stubble on his chin, which added to his weathered appearance.
As he disembarked, he walked too fast and nearly bumped into a woman carrying a load on a shoulder pole. The woman cursed, "In such a hurry to be reborn?" He apologized repeatedly, but his eyes remained fixed on the dock exit.
He hailed a rickshaw, "To the old house in Hongkou."
The driver agreed and pulled him towards the riverbank.
The rickshaw bumped along the cobblestone road.
As Qiao Yuan looked around, he saw Japanese flags hanging on the iron fence of the concession, some of the shop signs along the roadside were smashed, leaving only half of the character "福" (fortune). He also saw several Japanese soldiers holding guns, interrogating an old man in tattered clothes.
Five years later, Jiangcheng was even more desolate than when he left, the air seemingly thick with the chilling atmosphere of Japanese imperialism.
The rain started falling as we approached Hongkou; it was fine and dense, like needles pricking our faces.
Qiao Yuan pulled his coat over his head, but rainwater still flowed down his neck and into his collar, making him shiver.
The driver turned around and shouted, "Sir, the old house in Hongkou is just ahead!"
Qiao Yuan looked up and saw the familiar two-story building, with rainwater accumulating on the green tile roof and dripping down the eaves.
The old locust tree at the entrance is still there, with a faded red lantern hanging from its branches. When the wind blows, the lantern sways, revealing the candlelight inside.
Qiao Yuan jumped out of the car, paid the fare, and ran towards the door with his umbrella.
The umbrella ribs opened above his head, but his hands were trembling, causing the umbrella to tilt and rain to pelt his face. He grabbed the door knocker and banged on it several times, the sound ringing out clearly in the rain.
Qiao Yuan faintly heard someone opening the door, and he couldn't wait to peek through the crack in the window. In the warm yellow light, Lin Tang sat at the octagonal table, wearing a dark blue cheongsam, her hair neatly styled, and was holding a child's hand, teaching him to write.
The child, with pigtails, drew a crooked circle with a calligraphy brush. Lin Tang smiled and said, "Xiao Nian, this is the character 'Chen,' it needs to be straight." The child exclaimed in a clear voice, "Mommy, I got it!"
Qiao Yuan stared at the dark blue figure inside the window, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to call out "Lin Tang," but the sound was choked by the wind outside the window as soon as it reached his throat.
The moment their eyes met, Qiao Yuan saw her pupils suddenly contract, and the brush in her hand fell into the inkstone with a "thud," splashing ink and spreading a black stain on the character "Chen" on the Xuan paper.
But the next second, she quickly lowered her eyes, wiped her hands with her sleeve, and turned to the child as if nothing had happened, saying, "Xiaonian, go pour Dad a cup of tea."
Qiao Yuan waited excitedly for the child to run towards him, but a man with sword-like eyebrows and bright eyes, wearing a silver-gray Zhongshan suit, walked out from behind the house, holding the child, and said, "Daddy is not drinking tea anymore, it's for the new guest!"
Qiao Yuan then realized that Chen Kan had been standing under the eaves behind the house for a long time.
With a "yikes," the door finally opened.
“Mr. Qiao?” Ah Chen’s voice came from the side. Qiao Yuan turned his head and saw Ah Xiu standing by the pillar, her belly swollen like a small hill. Ah Chen was holding a raincoat and looking at him helplessly. “Please… come in. Madam said… you can have a cup of hot wine.”
Qiao Yuan mechanically followed A Chen into the house.
Lin Tang sat at the octagonal table, and Chen Kan sat next to her holding a child. The child's head was resting on his shoulder, and he had a piece of osmanthus candy in his mouth, asking indistinctly, "Daddy, who is this uncle?"
“He’s an old friend of Daddy.” Chen Kan patted the child’s head and looked up at Qiao Yuan. “Xiao Nian, call him Uncle Qiao.”
"Hello, Uncle Qiao!" the child called out in a clear voice, reaching out for Qiao Yuan to hug him. Qiao Yuan stiffly took the child's hand, and the warm touch reminded him of how Lin Tang had touched his face five years ago.
"How old are you?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"I'm three years old!" the child counted on her fingers. "Mom said I was born in spring, and my name is Chen Nian, the 'Nian' in 'miss' or 'remember'!"
Qiao Yuan suddenly loosened his grip, and the child almost fell to the ground. Chen Kan quickly caught him, his face darkening: "Mr. Qiao, be careful."
"I'm sorry." Qiao Yuan took a step back, knocking over a chair beside him. The chair fell to the ground with a loud thud, and Lin Tang shuddered, but didn't look up. Ah Xiu quickly came over to help him up, but he pushed her hand away and stared at Lin Tang:
"Is that child... mine?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Lin Tang's face paled slightly, then she laughed: "Mr. Qiao, you're really joking. The child is three years old, and you've been gone for five years, how could he be yours?"
Qiao Yuan stood there, looking at everything in front of him with a blank expression.
"Why... how could this happen... Jintang, are you kidding me? When I left, you clearly told me to live well for you and the child?"
Lin Tang looked up at him. "Mr. Qiao, that was a lie I had to tell to motivate you. That child... never existed. Xiao Nian is my child with Chen Kan."
Qiao Yuan roared, "No! I don't believe it!"
Lin Tang suddenly looked up at Qiao Yuan and said, "Mr. Qiao, I am very happy to see you back healthy. But Chen Kan and I are married, and this is our child. Five years have passed, and many things have changed."
Qiao Yuan looked around blankly, then suddenly asked, "Where's Uncle Chen?"
“Uncle Chen is dead.” Ah Chen lowered his head.
“Dead? How could that be?” Qiao Yuan exclaimed.
Ah Chen's face was filled with deep pain. "Yes, two years ago, Uncle Chen got into a conflict with the Japanese because of something in the gang. He was hit by a rifle butt and was injured. He was injured, but he refused to see a Western doctor and just relied on medicinal wine to keep him alive... He passed away that winter."
Qiao Yuan looked around the room in a daze, feeling like a complete stranger who had wandered into the wrong place. How he wished it were all a lie!
But when he opened his eyes again and looked at the people in front of him, they all told him: in the past five years, the world had changed. He was no longer the helper of the Crescent Moon Gang, his most trusted Uncle Chen was dead, and his child... it turned out that it was destined that he could never have a child!
A powerful sense of sorrow welled up in his heart, almost making him burst into tears.
"Dad, what happened to Uncle?" Chen Nian sucked on her finger and looked at her father blankly.
Qiao Yuan looked at the child and forced a smile, "No, I was just thinking that I wish I had a child as cute as you."
Chen Kan stood up, holding the child, walked to Qiao Yuan, and placed the child's hand in his: "Mr. Qiao, if you like, you can come and visit Xiao Nian often in the future."
Qiao Yuan turned around and walked towards the alley entrance.
The rain intensified, and without an umbrella, the raindrops lashed his back, chilling him to the bone.
He heard footsteps behind him, and Ah Chen called out, "Mr. Qiao, where are you going?"
He didn't turn around, but waved his hand and said, "Don't worry about me."
The rickshaw driver at the alley entrance was still waiting. Seeing him approach, he asked, "Sir, where are you going?"
Qiao Yuan shook his head and sat down on the steps by the roadside.
He gazed at the distant river view, where ships on the river sounded their horns, and black smoke blended into the leaden-gray clouds.
He remembered five years ago, when he sat on the dock steps in the same way, watching Lin Tang see him off. At that time, he said, "Lin Tang, wait for me to come back, and we will never be apart again."
But now, he's back, but she's gone.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. They were American-made, and he'd never smoked them before, but now he wanted one. He lit one, took a drag, and coughed, choking on the smoke. The taste spread in his mouth, bitter enough to make him wince.
The sound of a door closing and lights going out came from the old house in Hongkou in the distance. Qiao Yuan looked at the small building and said softly, "Lin Tang, I'm back."
The rain slanted down his face, and his voice was drowned out by the rain; he couldn't even hear himself.
The waves on the river lapped against the wooden piles of the dock, making a low, resonant sound. In the distance, a lone goose continued its southward flight, its wings sweeping across the clouds, leaving a faint trail.
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