Explore Chapter 18 of '啼笑因缘' with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
After General Liu's death, Shen Fengxi was taken to the hospital by Old Guan and his daughter for treatment. The doctor's examination revealed that while Fengxi bore no fatal physical injuries, her nerves had been completely shattered by the overwhelming shock. In the hospital, she spent her days either weeping or laughing hysterically, sometimes talking to the walls, other times singing drum-song lyrics to herself. During moments of lucidity, she could still recognize people, but the slightest fright would plunge her back into confusion. The doctor said her condition required prolonged convalescence, and even if she recovered, it was feared she might never fully regain her former state.
Ever since witnessing Fengxi's wretched state at General Liu's residence that day, Fan Jiashu had been deeply distressed. Hearing later that she had lost her mind only intensified his anguish and remorse. He realized that Fengxi's plight was entirely of his own making. Had he not left Beijing, she might never have fallen prey to General Liu's deceit; had he possessed wealth and influence, her mother and uncle might not have dared to force her into marriage. Turning it all over in his mind, he felt he alone had sown the seeds of her misfortune. Tormented by her suffering and infuriated by his own helplessness, his heart grew heavy with sorrow, and he himself succumbed to a lingering illness.
That day at the hospital, Fan Jiashu asked a nurse for Fengxi's ward. "This Miss Shen's illness is most peculiar," the nurse said. "At times she's as calm and normal as can be, but the slightest agitation brings on a full fit of madness. Do be careful with your words when you see her." Fan Jiashu nodded and entered the ward quietly. He saw Fengxi dressed in a white hospital gown, seated on a chair, idly waving a handkerchief in the air while softly singing. Fan Jiashu recognized the tune as the aria "Daiyu Mourning the Fall" from the classic novel Dream of the Red Chamber. Her voice was plaintive, yet every word was clear. Hearing it, another pang of sorrow pierced his heart.
Fan Jiashu slowly approached and called her name softly. "Fengxi." She suddenly turned her head and stared at him. He saw her face was pitifully sallow and thin, her large eyes appearing even larger, yet their gaze was vacant. After a moment, a smile spread across Fengxi's face. She stood up and said, "Mr. Fan, you've come? I've waited for you so long. Why have you stayed away?" Seeing her speak so coherently, Fan Jiashu felt a flicker of hope. "I wanted to visit sooner," he replied, "but I feared you might not wish to see me." Fengxi laughed. "Why wouldn't I wish to see you? You've been so kind to me. I shall never forget it." With that, she motioned for him to sit.
Her demeanor seeming quite lucid, Fan Jiashu began reminiscing with her about old times. Fengxi remembered everything with surprising clarity-Shuiche Hutong, the Altar of Agriculture, their school days, the photograph-and responded accurately. Seeing this, Fan Jiashu thought privately that her illness might yet be cured, and his heart lightened somewhat.
After they had talked awhile, Fengxi suddenly asked, "Where is General Liu? Why hasn't he come today?" The words struck Fan Jiashu like a bucket of cold water, dashing his hopes and confirming the severity of her condition. He could only answer vaguely, "He's occupied today. He won't be coming." At this, Fengxi's face immediately changed color. She trembled from head to toe, shrinking back. "He... is he coming to whip me again? I won't go! I won't!" she cried, waving her hands frantically, her eyes wide with terror. Fan Jiashu hastened to comfort her. "Don't be afraid. General Liu isn't here. No one will hurt you."
But Fengxi refused to believe him. She sprang to her feet, ran to the window, and peered down. Then she began to shriek wildly, "Mother! He's here! He's brought his guards! I'm frightened! I must hide!" Still screaming, she fumbled to open the window. Aghast, Fan Jiashu rushed forward to stop her, but Fengxi possessed unnatural strength and shoved him violently to the floor. Before he knew it, she was already on the windowsill. Scrambling up to pull her back, Fan Jiashu was too late. He saw Fengxi turn her head and give him a tragically sweet smile. "Mr. Fan, I must go," she said, and leaped into the void below. Fan Jiashu's soul nearly fled his body in terror. He lunged to the window and looked down to see Fengxi lying motionless on the lawn, her limbs twitching faintly.
Fan Jiashu flew downstairs, heedless of all else. By the time he reached the lawn, doctors and nurses from the hospital had already gathered. They carried Fengxi to the emergency room, but her breath was already faint. After an injection from the doctor, her eyes fluttered open slightly. Seeing Fan Jiashu, her lips moved as if trying to speak, but no sound came. Then, suddenly, with perfect clarity, she said, "Mr. Fan... Mr. Fan... I... have wronged you." With that, her eyes closed, and she was gone.
Witnessing Fengxi's wretched death was like a knife twisting in Fan Jiashu's heart. He could not hold back his loud, wrenching sobs. The hospital staff, knowing he was a friend of the deceased, did not press him but let him weep his fill. After his tears subsided, the memory of all Fengxi's former loveliness, now ended so tragically, plunged him into even deeper despair. He also remembered that her mother and uncle still lived, and her funeral arrangements fell to them. Swallowing his grief, he went to inform Auntie Shen.
Since General Liu's death and Fengxi's hospitalization, Auntie Shen had known her daughter's illness was grave, yet she still clung to a sliver of hope for recovery. The sudden news of her daughter's fatal fall naturally threw her into a paroxysm of weeping. She and Shen Sanxuan went to the hospital to see Fengxi's body, where they broke down in fresh lamentations. Fan Jiashu provided the money for a coffin and burial clothes, laying Fengxi to rest in a pauper's field.
After this tragedy, Fan Jiashu's world grew even darker. Life seemed to him a grand, illusory dream-all wealth, glory, and tender affection ultimately coming to nothing. He grieved for Fengxi, and brooded over his own rootless existence in a strange city, his lack of accomplishment, his bleak and lonely fate. Thus, he sank deeper into despondency with each passing day.
Knowing his sorrow, Tao Bohe and his wife often urged him out for distraction. One day, when they were again bound for the dance hall at the Beijing Hotel, they insisted on taking Fan Jiashu along. Unable to refuse, he reluctantly followed.
At the hotel, the ballroom blazed with electric light, filled with the strains of music and couples lost in the dance. The Taos joined the festivities, while Fan Jiashu sat alone in a corner, gloomily sipping his coffee. He remembered how, at this very time last year, he had first met He Lina here amidst such gaiety. Now, with Fengxi dead and himself utterly alone, the dazzling scene only deepened his melancholy.
As he sat lost in thought, a subtle, fragrant breeze caught his attention. Looking up, he saw He Lina standing before him, offering a graceful smile. Fan Jiashu quickly rose to offer her a seat. "Mr. Fan, it has been an age," she said with a laugh. "I heard you were unwell. Are you quite recovered now?" "Thank you for your concern, Miss He," Fan Jiashu replied. "It was a trifling ailment. I've been well for some time." He Lina sat down opposite him. A waiter approached, and she ordered a soda.
She took a sip and regarded him. "You've grown much thinner, Mr. Fan. You really must take better care of yourself." "It was merely a passing chill," he said. "Nothing of consequence." "I stayed in Tianjin for a few months," He Lina continued, "and have grown quite out of touch with friends in Beijing. It was only after Mrs. Tao called today that I knew you were here, so I came specially." "You are too kind, Miss He," Fan Jiashu said.
After a few more pleasantries, He Lina inquired casually, "And how is that Miss Shen, the drum-song performer?" The question struck a painful chord. Fan Jiashu forced himself to answer, "She... she has passed away." "Indeed?" He Lina exclaimed in surprise. "How did she die?" Unwilling to elaborate, Fan Jiashu answered vaguely, "From illness." He Lina sighed. "Such an intelligent girl. What a pity."
Fan Jiashu fell silent. Seeing his somber expression, He Lina, perceiving his reluctance to speak further, changed the subject. She spoke of Tianjin's scenery, Shanghai's bustle, and foreign films. Fan Jiashu responded with indifferent murmurs, showing little interest.
Seeing Fan Jiashu's reserve toward her, He Lina felt somewhat puzzled and slighted. She had always held a rather favorable opinion of this Mr. Fan. Could it be he remained utterly oblivious? Or was he still pining for that Shen Fengxi? Proud by nature, she had no wish to force conversation. After sitting a while longer, she rose to take her leave.
Fan Jiashu did not attempt to detain her, merely standing to say a brief farewell. As He Lina walked to the edge of the dance floor, several young men immediately stepped forward to claim a dance. Glancing back at where Fan Jiashu sat, she saw him still there, gazing blankly at his coffee cup. A fleeting emotion stirred within her, but she was soon swept onto the dance floor by her partner, leaving no time for further reflection.
After He Lina's departure, Fan Jiashu felt a sense of relief. He reflected that while He Lina was beautiful and vivacious, she carried herself with the unmistakable air of a society belle-a world apart from his own. In his current state of sorrow, he felt even less inclined to associate with such people.
When Tao Bohe and his wife returned from dancing, they found Fan Jiashu sitting alone in gloom. "Why aren't you dancing?" they asked. "I don't know how," he replied. "Where is Miss He?" inquired Mrs. Tao. "She left," said Fan Jiashu. "How did your conversation go?" "Merely the usual pleasantries," he answered indifferently. Reading his expression, Mrs. Tao knew nothing had come of it and asked no more.
The three of them took a car home. During the ride, Mrs. Tao said to her husband, "Do you think Fan Jiashu and Miss He are destined for each other?" Tao Bohe laughed. "That depends entirely on Fan Jiashu's own feelings. It seems to me Miss He is quite taken with him, but Fan Jiashu is always rather distant." "Perhaps he's still thinking of that Shen Fengxi," Mrs. Tao suggested. Tao Bohe shook his head. "Fengxi is gone. What use is dwelling on her? Fan Jiashu is young. He must make new plans for his future."
Sitting in the front, Fan Jiashu overheard their conversation but pretended not to hear, turning his own thoughts inward. He decided he could no longer remain in Beijing. First, every sight would stir painful memories. Second, the constant matchmaking efforts of the Taos had become a nuisance. Better to leave the city after his exams and seek a quieter place to continue his studies.
A few days later, as the school examination period drew near, Fan Jiashu moved into the campus dormitory to focus on his preparations. Though the Taos tried to persuade him to stay, he was adamant, and they finally relented.
After the exams, which he felt had gone reasonably well, Fan Jiashu made plans to depart Beijing. He went to bid farewell to Guan Shoufeng, who had fully recovered from his illness, though his spirits were not what they once were. Hearing of Fan Jiashu's impending departure, the old man expressed sincere regret. "Mr. Fan, you are a young man of great promise," he said. "A bright future surely awaits you. I, Guan Shoufeng, owe you a debt of gratitude I can never repay in this lifetime." "You do me too much honor, Uncle Guan," Fan Jiashu replied. "Such a small matter is not worth mentioning. After I'm gone, please do take good care of your health." Xiugu stood silently nearby, her face etched with forlorn dismay at the news of his leaving.
On the day of his departure, Tao Bohe and his wife saw him off at the railway station. "Cousin, must you really leave?" Mrs. Tao entreated. "Couldn't you pursue your studies here in Beijing just as well?" "I wish to see more of the world," Fan Jiashu explained. "A change of scene will do me good." "Since your mind is made up, we shan't press you further," said Tao Bohe. "But do write to us often from the south." Fan Jiashu promised he would.
As the train pulled away, Fan Jiashu watched the city walls of Beijing gradually recede from the carriage window. His heart was a tumult of indistinct emotions. The experiences of the past year now seemed like a vivid, protracted dream. Now awake, he found himself alone once more, adrift under vast skies, uncertain of what the future might hold.
The train carried him ever farther, until Beijing vanished from sight. Closing his eyes to rest, Fan Jiashu suddenly felt a cold drop on his cheek. Touching it, he discovered it was a tear. He wondered at himself, why these unbidden tears? Opening his eyes, he gazed out at the fields racing past the window and heaved a soft sigh.
Such is life, he mused. Joy and sorrow, meetings and partings, none follow a predetermined course. Let the past remain the past. The road ahead is long, and perhaps a brighter path still lies in wait. With this thought, Fan Jiashu's heart lightened a little. He took out a book he carried with him and began to read, no longer dwelling on those sorrowful memories.