〈Romance of An-ping: Miss
Jin’s Interethnic Love Story〉18

Chapter 17 Junsheng Returns to Amsterdam
86
Night had not yet fully fallen when the carriage moved through the streets of Amsterdam. Streetlights lit up one by one along the roadside, illuminating the wet street surface, reflecting a faint sheen from the wheels and the road. Mist swirled in the air, as if to envelop the entire city. In the distance came a few hurried footsteps; the clamor of the marketplace gradually faded, leaving only the sound of the carriage wheels and the hooves of the fine horse echoing through the quiet streets.

Junsheng sat inside the carriage, the scenery outside constantly changing, yet his heart was filled with countless worries. His gaze was somewhat distant as he looked at the old buildings lining both sides of the street, as if every house were telling a story of time. Suddenly, he murmured to himself: “Time passes so quickly! In the blink of an eye, I have been away from home for two years. Father’s condition has always been fluctuating between better and worse. I hope he can endure this time…”

The carriage arrived in front of his family residence. Junsheng paid the fare and then stepped down in silence. As he walked along the familiar path and pushed open that door, the old tree in the courtyard still stood firm, its leaves rustling in the wind. Everything seemed unchanged, yet a faint unease stirred within Junsheng’s heart.

“Mother, I’m back.” Junsheng’s voice was somewhat heavy, carrying a trace of fatigue. He walked into the house, slightly bowed, entering a world he had not seen for a long time.

Helena walked out from the bedroom. Upon seeing Junsheng, a worried smile appeared on her face. She approached him and said softly, “Junsheng, go see your father? His condition is getting weaker and weaker.” Her tone carried a hint of anxiety, and deep in her eyes lay reluctance and concern.

Junsheng nodded slightly, set down his luggage, and walked toward the bedroom. The door opened, and he saw his father, Jun (Jan), lying against the pillow on the bed, his face pale, his eyes revealing a sense of helplessness. Junsheng walked to the bedside, sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed tightly on his father’s face.

“I’m back, Father.” Junsheng said softly, his tone filled with deep affection and guilt.

Jun struggled to raise his hand, bracing himself against the side of the bed, trying to sit up, but his body appeared weak. His voice was hoarse. “Junsheng, I thought I would never see you again…” His tone revealed the excitement of reunion after a long separation and the sorrow of frailty.

Junsheng looked at him, a trace of sorrow and helplessness flashing in his eyes, and held his father’s hand. “Father, you will get better…” His voice was firm, but the unease and powerlessness in his eyes could not be concealed.

Jun gave a bitter smile and shook his head slightly. “My body will not recover… You will not leave home again, will you, Junsheng?” He tightened his grip on Junsheng’s hand, his tone carrying a faint plea.

Junsheng remained silent for a moment, holding back the tears in his eyes, gently patting the back of his father’s hand. “No… I won’t…” He forced out a slight smile.

Jun’s gaze became firm. “The Visser family and ours have been family friends for decades. When you were born, I arranged a marriage with the Visser family. Now that you have returned, while I still have a breath left, I want to see you marry Viana.” His tone was filled with an unfulfilled wish, as if all his remaining strength was placed on this final request.

Junsheng’s brows furrowed slightly, his expression troubled, and he responded in a low voice, “But, I…”

At that moment, Helena quietly entered the room, gently pulled Junsheng’s arm, and signaled him to step outside the doorway. She said softly, “Junsheng, for God’s sake, just agree to it, will you? This is the only wish your father has left unfulfilled.” A trace of pleading flashed in her eyes, her face filled with helplessness.

Junsheng was pulled outside by his mother and said in a low voice, “Mother, more than a year ago, in the Far East, I married a girl. She is already pregnant. I mentioned this in my letters home. I cannot become a heartless man. Please do not force me.” He clenched his hands, his eyes revealing struggle and pain.

Helena lowered her head, sighed softly, then looked at her son. “I received that letter you sent back, my son.” She gently wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes. “I did not show that letter to your father. At that time, Viana’s father had just passed away. He and your father had been friends for decades. Before he died, he asked your father to quickly arrange your marriage…” She paused for a moment, took a deep breath. “I did not dare show your letter to your father. On one hand, I was afraid he would misunderstand; on the other, I was afraid it would anger him and worsen his condition.”

After hearing this, Junsheng’s eyes were filled with confusion and pain. He said in a low voice, “But, Mother, if I marry Viana as well, it would be unfair to her. I believe I should not deceive her.” He turned around, his gaze distant, engaged in a fierce inner struggle.

Helena’s tone became firmer. She took a deep breath and looked directly at Junsheng. “Are you going to defy your father? Your father has only one breath left. For a dying father, can you bear to let him leave with regret?” Her voice was filled with pleading and helplessness. “You have always been a filial child. I believe you would not refuse your father at this moment.”

Junsheng’s inner struggle intensified. His eyes gradually became blurred, his voice filled with helplessness. “Mother, when you say this, it truly puts me in a very difficult position!” He lowered his head, tears shimmering in his eyes.

Helena slowly released him, placed both hands on his shoulders, her tone gentle yet urgent. “Son, I beg you—let your father pass these remaining days without any burdens.” Her tone was gentle yet firm.

Junsheng lowered his head, silently looking into his mother’s eyes. His inner struggle reached its peak. Finally, he took a deep breath and made a decision in his heart: “To encourage Father’s will to live, I will agree for now… I will find a way to withdraw later…”

87
The wedding was held in an ancient Christian church. When sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, scattering multicolored patches of light across the solemn church floor, everyone fell silent. The air was filled with the scent of incense candles, and the church was immersed in a sacred and solemn atmosphere. The sound of bells echoed melodiously, accompanied by the priest’s murmured voice, as if time itself had frozen.

Junsheng sat in a wheelchair, his body still thin, his face pale. His gaze was fixed on the priest ahead, trying to bury all his pain and struggle deep within, yet a faint trace of weariness and helplessness could still be seen in his eyes. His father, Jun (Jan), sat in a corner of the church, his face still pale, but he forced himself to sit upright, gripping the armrests tightly, his eyes filled with expectation and concern. His gaze never left Junsheng.

The priest stood before the altar, hands clasped, looking gently at Viana, then turning to Junsheng, speaking in a solemn tone: “In the name of Lord Jesus, Viana, are you willing to become Junsheng’s wife, to cherish and serve him for life?”

Viana wore a white wedding gown, her expression slightly shy, her fingers tightly holding the bouquet. Her voice was gentle yet firm. “I am willing.” Her eyes shone with the light of love as she looked at Junsheng. Though there was a trace of unease in her heart, she still chose to believe in this marriage.

The priest then turned to Junsheng, his gaze profound. “In the name of Lord Jesus, Junsheng, are you willing to have Viana as your wife, to cherish and love her for life?”

Junsheng closed his eyes slightly, his inner struggle surging in an instant. He looked toward his father, whose gaze revealed endless expectation and sorrow. Junsheng’s hand unconsciously tightened on the armrest of the wheelchair, his lips trembling slightly. Finally, he spoke slowly, “I… am willing…” The words seemed to emerge after a thousand pounds of struggle, his tone filled with helplessness and heaviness, appearing especially weak compared to earlier firmness.

The priest smiled faintly and murmured, “After exchanging tokens, Junsheng, you may kiss the bride.”

Under the gaze of everyone, Junsheng and Viana exchanged rings and tokens. At that moment, the air in the church seemed to freeze, with only the echo of bells and faint footsteps. After exchanging rings, Junsheng lowered his head slightly and gently kissed Viana on the forehead. Though the kiss was tender, there was no contact of lips, and a trace of awkward silence lingered in the air. The surrounding relatives and friends began to whisper softly; some exchanged glances, others frowned in confusion.

Junsheng held Viana’s hand, feeling her slight trembling. A trace of disappointment flashed in her eyes, yet she forced a smile, looking at him gently, lightly pulling his hand. Together they walked out of the church doors. Sunlight shone upon them, the golden glow like a halo draped over their bodies.

Viana stopped, turned back, and gently tossed the bouquet toward the young men and women below. Her movement was graceful, her smile like a blooming flower, yet her heart was filled with complex emotions. The bouquet flew through the air, tracing an arc before slowly descending. The young people below reached out eagerly to catch it, and warm applause followed.

Junsheng and Viana walked side by side, yet an invisible distance separated them, the silence between them seeming to speak of an indescribable barrier. Although the wedding was successfully completed, the subtle atmosphere within it could not be ignored.

88
A thin mist enveloped the port of Amsterdam outside the window. The morning light fell like veils upon the river’s surface. In the distance, masts appeared and disappeared within the mist. Occasionally, a seagull crossed the sky, leaving behind a clear cry.

Junsheng, wearing a dark gray house robe, sat at an oak desk by the window, his fingertips lightly tapping the tabletop, his gaze lingering on the busy port without shifting for a long time. A faint gloom lingered in his eyes, as if the moisture had condensed within his heart.

He murmured softly, “Shayun, how are you now… You are pregnant, and still have to manage the clinic on your own. It is so hard… Is it too much for you to bear?”

The door creaked softly open, and Viana entered. She wore an off-white morning dress and held a steaming cup of Ceylon black tea, its aroma carrying a hint of citrus sweetness. She knelt down, placed the tea beside Junsheng, then quietly sat on the sofa opposite him.

“Junsheng, is something troubling you?” Her tone was gentle, yet her eyes carried a trace of inquiry and reluctance. “These past few days, you seem to have been in low spirits. Can you tell me about it?”

Junsheng did not answer immediately. He simply reached out, picked up the teacup, and lowered his head to blow away the rising steam. Seeing this, Viana stood up, walked to his side, and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. The touch was both comforting and real.

“I watch Father’s condition worsen day by day…” Junsheng finally spoke, his voice slightly hoarse. “I am clearly a doctor, yet I can do nothing… That sense of helplessness feels like a stone pressing on my chest.”

Viana said nothing. She gently knelt down, held his hand, her fingertips applying slight pressure. She looked up at him and said firmly,
“You have not done nothing. Every day you take his pulse, decoct medicine, and keep vigil through the night. You have done more than anyone else. You have already done your best, Junsheng.”

Junsheng’s throat tightened, his eyes trembling slightly. He lowered his head and gently covered Viana’s hand with his own. “Thank you… for being willing to stay by my side… Sometimes, I truly feel like I can no longer hold on.”

Viana smiled gently and pulled his hand toward her chest. “Don’t say that. We will get through this together. You are not alone, Junsheng.”

The mist outside gradually dispersed, and the outline of the port became clearer. The aroma of tea lingered in the room, and time itself seemed to pause for a moment within this quiet stillness.

89
The night was deep, and the entire city seemed to be asleep in an ink-like stillness. Only the distant sound of church bells rang leisurely, low and ethereal. Fine rain drifted outside the window, and the slanting wind struck against the window lattice, leaving scattered water marks.

Inside the bedroom, a sudden, urgent knocking shattered the silence—
“Knock, knock! Knock knock knock!”

Junsheng awoke from his dream, draped a dark wool robe over himself, and stepped barefoot out of bed. The wooden floor creaked faintly beneath his feet. He walked to the entrance and opened the door—

Helena stood outside. Her coat was soaked by the rain, her black hair clung to her cheeks, her eyes were red and swollen, and her expression was grief-stricken. When she spoke, her voice trembled yet remained calm:
“Junsheng… your father has passed. He went very peacefully.”

Junsheng stood as if struck by lightning, unable to say anything for a moment. Behind him came the sound of fabric rustling. Viana, wrapped in a long shawl, had also come over, her eyes filled with unease.

Junsheng suddenly turned and rushed toward his father’s bedroom almost at a run. The corridor light was dim yellow, stretching his shadow long. Viana followed him barefoot, not even having time to put on shoes.

Pushing open the door, a mixed scent of lingering Chinese medicine and old wooden furniture rushed toward him. The candlelight by the window flickered faintly. On the bed, Jan lay with a peaceful expression, his hands folded over his chest, as if asleep.

“Father…” Junsheng rushed forward, fell to his knees by the bedside, and with trembling hands embraced his father’s cold body.

His forehead pressed tightly against his father’s chest, his sobs surging like waves: “I haven’t had the chance to tell you… how grateful I am to you…”

Viana slowly approached, silently knelt beside Junsheng. One hand rested on his shoulder, the other gently stroked Jan’s pale hand. She said softly, “He was waiting for you. Until the very last moment… he never let go of your photograph.”

Her gaze turned toward Jan’s right hand—within it, he tightly held a slightly yellowed photograph. In the photo, Junsheng and Viana were dressed in wedding attire, smiling at each other, with the rose-covered wall of that old house in the background.

Junsheng raised his head, his tear-blurred eyes fixed on the photograph, his throat trembling. He reached out and gently took the photo, brushing away dust and tear marks from its edges with his fingertips.

“Father… you always remembered this photograph…”

He rested his forehead against his father’s hand, tears falling silently.

Outside the window, the sound of rain was like weeping. The wind swept into the half-open curtains, stirring a painting on the bedroom wall—an old portrait of Jan in his youth. The figure in the painting was smiling, as if now also bidding a silent farewell.

90
The sky was heavy like lead, the clouds pressed low, and fine rain fell diagonally, soaking the grass of the cemetery into a deep green. Several black crows cawed softly, perched on the damp treetops. In the distance, the church bells rang intermittently, like a final call to the departed.

The priest, dressed in a black robe, stood before the grave, holding the Bible, his voice low and steady:
“Dust to dust, ashes to ashes. A faithful servant has left suffering and gained peace, now freed, returning to the side of God… May he rest in peace.”

Raindrops fell upon the opened umbrellas, making a soft, continuous sound like whispers of mourning. Viana and Stephanie supported Helena on either side. Her face was pale, her lips tightly pressed together, tears had soaked both her cheeks, and her trembling hand tightly clutched Viana’s sleeve.

Helena said in a low voice, “Until the end, he never cried out in pain… I thought he would hold on a little longer…”

Viana responded softly, “He passed very peacefully, as if in a dream… Don’t be too sorrowful. He no longer has to suffer.”

Stephanie gently patted Helena’s back and said softly, “We are all here with you. He can see it too.”

Junsheng, dressed in a well-tailored black suit, stood beside the grave, watching as the coffin was slowly lowered into the earth. His eyes were hollow, rimmed red. He did not move at all, as if time had come to a standstill.

A worker poured down the first shovelful of soil. With a dull “thud,” it struck the coffin lid, the sound like a blow to his chest. Junsheng’s throat tightened. Suddenly, he stepped forward, crouched down, and personally grabbed a handful of wet soil, slowly letting it fall.

“Father… thank you… I thought I was prepared, but…” His words choked, his fingers still gripping the damp soil, as if unwilling to let go.

Viana quietly walked to his side, knelt down, and placed her hand on his back. She said softly, “Let him go in peace. The one he was most worried about… is you.”

Junsheng raised his head and looked into her tearful eyes. His nose tingled, and at last, he nodded. He cast one more glance at the coffin below, as if bidding a final farewell to the past, then stood up, leaning closely against Viana.

The rain grew heavier, the wind lifted the edges of their black clothing, and the sky turned gray and dim. The entire cemetery was shrouded in a damp silence. The crowd gradually dispersed, leaving only a single white lily lying quietly beside the grave in the muddy ground, as if it were a final whisper to the departed.