〈Romance of An-ping: Miss
Jin’s Interethnic Love Story〉30

Chapter 29: Junsheng and Xiuyah Depart for the Far East

146
The outskirts of London were shrouded in thick fog as heavy as lead, the entire city seeming to be covered by a layer of gray-white veil. The silhouette of the distant clock tower beyond the window was blurred as if in a dream. Cold wind weaved between the bricks and chimneys, carrying a low, mournful wail.

In Williams’s bedroom, a warm yellow kerosene lamp had not yet gone out. Its flame flickered unsteadily, casting the shadows of two figures nestled together. Williams’s arm held Xiuyah close; the two were curled under a soft down comforter. The curtain moved slightly, letting in a chill.

Suddenly, Shayan’s figure appeared by the door. She was dressed in white, her expression calm yet tinged with sorrow, standing by the bed, staring at the sleeping Xiuyah. She slowly raised her hand and gently waved goodbye to Xiuyah, like a petal in the wind—silent and resolute.

Xiuyah’s brows furrowed tightly. She let out a low sob and was instantly awakened, sitting up abruptly, gasping for air, her eyes searching in panic for the fleeting figure. Her voice trembled and quavered with tears as she shouted:
“Sena! No… don’t go…!”

Her cry pierced the quiet night. Williams awoke as well. Instinctively, he reached out and held her shoulders, his voice urgent:
“What’s wrong? Xiuyah, did you have a nightmare?”

Xiuyah shivered all over, gripping Williams’s nightshirt tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably:
“I dreamed of Sena… she came to say goodbye… she was right here, waving at me… her face was so pale, as if… she was about to leave this world…”

Williams froze, silent for a few seconds. Then he gently stroked her back with his hand, letting her lean against him, soothing her softly:
“Don’t let your mind run wild. It’s just a dream. Sena is a strong girl. I believe she can make it through. What’s most important now is that you rest well.”

He touched his forehead to hers, feeling the cold sweat, then tucked the comforter around her more securely, his tone gentle yet firm:
“We set sail early tomorrow morning. Back at Dayuan Port, maybe we’ll hear news of her… We have to depart with hope, okay?”

Xiuyah nodded. Though her eyes were filled with tears, she managed a faint smile, like a heart pulled back from the edge of a nightmare.

147
The next morning, at the London harbor docks. Thick fog still lingered, and the sea breeze carried a salty sting to the face. The distant outline of ships was ghostly and indistinct. Only the heavy footsteps along the wooden walkway and the creak of ropes being secured reminded people that this was a moment of departure.

Vianna, wearing a long cloak, stood by the harbor, holding the hands of two children. They gazed at the sailboat slowly leaving the dock. The children waved constantly, shouting:
“Goodbye! Auntie! Goodbye!”

Onboard the ship, Xiuyah wore a deep blue windcoat, standing at the edge of the deck with Williams and Junsheng. The three waved back. Xiuyah’s eyes kept scanning the crowd along the shore, as if still searching for a familiar soul.

Junsheng whispered to her:
“Soon, we will return to the place where she was born.”

Williams reached out, adjusting a wool scarf around her, and said:
“Perhaps, there, we will find everything she wanted to tell us.”

The sea breeze carried their words into the fog. The sailboat drifted farther, like memories vanishing in a dream, floating toward distant Dayuan Port and the meeting point with an unknown fate.

148
Night fell, deep and dark as ink. Outside, wind and rain raged, pounding the wooden walls with low, mournful cries. Rainwater slid from the eaves like tears down a cheek. The ground was slippery; the air carried a mix of dampness and herbs.

A single oil lamp burned dimly inside the bedroom. The wick trembled, the yellow light revealing the exhaustion of the room. Shayan lay on the bed, breathing rapidly, her face pale as paper. Lalu sat by the bed against the wall, still holding Shayan’s hand, her body leaning slightly forward from fatigue, softly snoring in the lamp’s shadow.

Suddenly, a violent cough cut through the night’s silence.

Shayan awoke abruptly, propping herself against the pillow, her upper body trembling slightly. The cough came like a blade cutting her throat, erupting from deep within her chest. Lalu awoke, opening her eyes and immediately leaning closer, one hand supporting Shayan, the other pouring a full bamboo cup of warm water from the table.

“Take it slowly… here, moisten your throat first.” Lalu’s voice trembled as she brought the cup to Shayan’s lips.

Shayan sipped with effort, hands clutched tightly over her mouth and nose, a wet gurgling sound emerging from her throat. Her body leaned forward, trying to expel the phlegm. Lalu immediately supported her, gently patting her back.

“Cough it out… it’s okay once it’s out…”

But then, Shayan convulsed suddenly, spitting a large mouthful of bright blood that splashed onto the bamboo cup and her clothing, crimson as fire.

“Shayan!” Lalu’s eyes widened in shock. Panic overtook her; she grabbed a towel tremblingly from the bedside, ignoring her sleeves now stained red, hurriedly wiping Shayan’s mouth, nose, and hands, shouting in a quivering voice:
“Kali! Bosmen! Someone come quickly! Shayan is vomiting blood!”

The wind and rain could not drown her call. Lights lit up in several nearby huts.

Kali was the first to rush in, wearing only a simple hemp robe, barefoot. He knelt beside the bed immediately, his face ashen:
“What happened? Shayan, what’s wrong!?”

Lalu choked back her sobs, holding up the blood-stained towel:
“She just vomited a large amount of blood… more than before!”

Bosmen followed closely, one hand on the doorframe, gasping. The moment he saw Shayan’s face, his expression darkened.

Ali ran in as well, panting:
“What happened? I’ll go get Benjamin!”

He turned to rush out, but had not taken a single step when Shayan raised her hand with effort, her voice dry and torn like ripped cloth:
“It’s too late… Ali…”

The moment her voice left her lips, the room fell silent.

Ali froze, turning to look at her. Kali’s eyes quickly reddened, Lalu could not help but lower her head to sob. Only Shayan’s gaze remained calm, as if she already knew what was to come.

She slightly straightened her upper body, hands folded over her chest, and slowly, quietly sang an ancient Siraya love song. The melody was broken, like leaves drifting in the wind, interspersed with gasps and blood-tinged phlegm.

The song was mournful, like a farewell prepared for herself.

Everyone listened quietly. Even the wind seemed to have hushed.

Midway, Shayan’s voice abruptly stopped. Two tears of blood slipped from her eyes, and blood trickled from the corners of her mouth. Her eyes slowly closed. Her body leaned back and fell gently like a withered branch, silently.

“Shayan!!” Kali screamed, a heart-wrenching cry, lunging to shake her body.
“Don’t sleep! Wake up! You promised us! Didn’t you say you wanted to see our tribe recover!?”

Ali stood stunned, tears streaming like rain. Bosmen lowered his head, pressing his hat tightly over his face. Lalu threw herself on Shayan, palms on her now-cold cheeks, trembling uncontrollably.

At that moment, time seemed to freeze. The four of them sat around the bed, tears falling mingled with the sound of rain. The flickering lamp cast their grief-stricken faces in light, and also Shayan’s serene yet resolute final expression.

149
Two months later, the sky was covered with thick clouds, like a heavy lid pressed over the earth. The black layers of clouds blocked all sunlight, and the air was filled with moisture and the salty scent of the sea. The seaside cemetery was desolate and cold. In the distance, waves crashed against the rocky shore, emitting a low, silent rumble, as if telling of endless sorrow.

Kali brought Junsheng to Shayan’s grave. Around them, everything was quiet, with only the sounds of the wind and the sea as a backdrop. Behind them, Williams, Xiuyah, and a group of friends and relatives stood at the edge of the cemetery, solemn, silently accompanying them. The wind swirled fine sand, sticking to everyone’s faces, carrying along the weight of grief.

Kali stopped, drew in a deep breath, his eyes filled with pain, looking at the tombstone in front of him, and slowly spoke:
“Shayan, the Junsheng you thought of day and night has returned. He is right here before you.”
He pointed to Junsheng beside him, his tone carrying a hint of reproach and helplessness.

Junsheng’s knees suddenly buckled, and he fell to the ground before Shayan’s grave. His cry of grief trembled in the wind. His hands grasped the tombstone tightly, his nails digging into the cold stone. Tears poured forth like a flood, unstoppable:
“Shayan… Shayan…”
His voice was broken and helpless, as if being pulled by the memories and guilt of the past.

Xiuyah knelt beside him silently, following Junsheng. Her hands covered her face, and tears slipped through her fingers. She sobbed quietly, like a wordless poem, sorrowful and profound.

Kali stood beside them, his gaze hard, filled with deep disappointment. He pointed at Junsheng’s face, his voice full of grief:
“Shayan waited for you by the pier for twenty years. How could you be so heartless?”
His tone was like thunder tearing through the night sky, filled with accusation and helplessness.

Junsheng lowered his head, his vision blurred by tears. His voice was low, as if coming from the depths of an abyss:
“Shayan, it is I who have failed you…”
As these words left his mouth, it was as if he had given a part of his own soul to this desolate cemetery.

Nearby, Matthews looked up at the gloomy sky, his hands hanging powerless at his sides. He sighed deeply, his tone full of helplessness and confusion:
“God, the test you set is truly too difficult, too bitter…”
His voice carried a hint of despair, like a lost traveler who had lost all guidance.

Hearing Matthews, Xiuyah clasped her hands together and bowed her head, softly murmuring a prayer:
“Sena, you must forgive Sama…”
Her voice carried a profound sincerity, speaking to a distant soul, expressing her wish.

At that moment, a few seabirds circled overhead, flying low and crying piercingly, as if responding to the grief of everyone on this land. Each person present lowered their head silently, their hearts stirred by the sorrow. In the wind, the sound of waves striking the rocks grew even more mournful, as if mourning Shayan’s departure. The air was thick with a solemn atmosphere; all the grief converged at this moment, unable to be released.

150
The sun hung high in the sky, shining on the white walls and red tiles of the streets of Dayuan. The air carried faint scents of herbs and the sea breeze. At the entrance of Junsheng’s clinic, two lines of people stretched out from the doorway. One line consisted of anxious family members supporting children and adults with smallpox. The other line consisted of villagers coming for variolation. Between the two lines, a simple screen made of bamboo and white cloth had been set up to prevent cross-contamination.

Everyone wore straw hats on their heads, holding handkerchiefs. Some carried infants, some quietly recited Buddhist prayers, all staring at the clinic doors as if seeing a sliver of hope.

Kali stood at the entrance, his voice loud, maintaining order. Sweat dripped from his temples as he shouted continuously:
“Attention, villagers! Don’t line up in the wrong queue! Smallpox patients on the left, variolation on the right. Line up properly, don’t push!”

An elderly woman, trembling, held her grandson and went the wrong way. Kali quickly stepped over, gently guiding her:
“Grandmother, this way. Your grandson is here for variolation. Follow me.”
The old woman nodded gratefully, her lips trembling:
“Thank you, young man.”

Inside the clinic, sunlight filtered through the paper windows. A wisp of dust floated slowly in the air. Junsheng, wearing a plain white robe, focused intently, carefully examining a smallpox patient. He lifted the patient’s arm, inspecting the sores on the skin, his brows slightly furrowed. On the desk lay several packages of medicine and prescriptions written with ink.

Xiuyah, wearing a cloth head covering, was grinding herbs beside him, her face slightly sweaty. She softly said:
“Sama, aren’t you tired? Do you want to rest for a bit?”
She set down the pestle and handed him a cup of coix seed water.

Junsheng took the water, sipped, his throat moving a few times, then smiled:
“I’m fine. In the past few days, fewer people have come for treatment than before—the epidemic is starting to stabilize.”
He paused for a moment, looking at Xiuyah’s bright eyes, his tone gentle:
“Xiuyah, you must learn well from me. One day, you too should become someone who helps others, just like your Sena.”

Xiuyah’s eyes reddened, and she nodded:
“I will, Sama… I definitely will.”
She gently tugged at Junsheng’s sleeve and quietly asked:
“Then… will you go back to England?”

Junsheng gazed at the blue sky outside the window, thought for a moment, then said firmly:
“No, I won’t go back. I am more needed here.”
He turned his head, showing a long-missed gentle smile:
“I’ve already written, asking Vianna to bring the children here to reunite.”

Xiuyah paused, then her eyes brightened, a smile rising at the corners of her mouth:
“Really? She’s willing to come here?”

Junsheng nodded, his eyes carrying a sense of relief:
“What I owed there, I will slowly repay here.”

Father and daughter looked at each other, their smiles filled with deep understanding and tacit connection. He reached out, gently ruffling Xiuyah’s hair, both a gesture of remorse for the past and a promise for the future.

Outside, Kali looked into the clinic, saw this heartwarming scene, grinned, and loudly shouted:
“Next! Those for variolation, come forward!”

The camera slowly pulled back. The crowds continued, the wind still blew, but a lantern at the street corner of the clinic swayed gently. In the soft glow, the silhouettes of the father and daughter quietly extended, planting the seeds of life once more from the ruins after the storm.

(The End)