〈Romance of An-ping: Miss
Jin’s Interethnic Love Story〉20

96
Shayun gently sat down, her hand caressing her eight-month-pregnant belly, her tone carrying a trace of fatigue along with a trace of determination: “Two months ago, I received a letter from Junsheng, written from the Netherlands. He said that shortly after returning, his father passed away. After handling the funeral affairs, he missed Andrew’s ship… but he will take the next ship to come back.”

Mathew nodded, showing a comforting smile: “Mm, just as I estimated.”

From outside the clinic room came the cry of a baby; Shayun flinched slightly and turned to look toward the doorway, as if every sound might be Junsheng’s footsteps. She said softly, “From tomorrow, I will go to the docks to wait for him… every day I will go.”

After saying this, her voice trembled slightly, her gaze looking far into the distance, filled with deep longing and unease.

Mathew looked at her, her hand on her belly, and let out a gentle sigh, speaking with full emotion: “Ah… Junsheng is truly fortunate to have a wife like you.”

Shayun lowered her head, fingers gently caressing her abdomen, her eyes reddening, her voice light like a breeze: “I just hope… he really will come back… for us.”

97
At dusk, the sea breeze lightly brushed Da Yuan Harbor. The clouds along the horizon were dyed orange-red, and merchant ships weaved in and out of the twilight, splashing waves layer upon layer. The wooden planks along the dock creaked, and the air carried a mixture of seawater, fishy scent, and the sun-warmed aroma of timber.

Shayun wore a loose, deep-blue cotton garment, her eight-month-pregnant belly prominent, stepping carefully up the stone steps, reaching the edge of the dock. One hand supported her belly, the other shielded her eyes from the remaining rays of the sunset, her gaze fixed on a ship slowly approaching from the sea, her eyes reflecting a mixture of anxiety, hope, and fatigue.

Every day at this hour, she would come, standing in the same spot, like a statue of prayer, silently guarding her lover’s return.

In the distance, a sailing ship approaching from Ryukyu neared the harbor, flying the flag of the East India Company, its smokestack puffing white smoke. On deck, a sun-darkened sailor lifted his telescope and scanned the shore, suddenly furrowing his brow.

“Captain, isn’t that Doctor Shayun who treats people?” Sailor A pointed to the familiar figure on the dock. “Why is she standing there? Is she… waiting for someone?”

The captain walked over from behind the wheel, took the telescope, glanced, and said calmly: “Yes. She is waiting for her husband, Mr. Junsheng, to return by ship.”

Sailor A removed his hat and held it against his chest, speaking with some sympathy: “Is that so? I remember seeing her standing there a few days ago. Every evening, she comes… her belly so large, yet she still comes to the dock every day. That’s not easy.”

The captain looked at the slightly trembling figure on the dock, let out a soft sigh, and murmured: “Shayun is a devoted woman… waiting for someone like this, anyone who sees it would feel heartache.”

Sailor A stood by the railing, suddenly waving to Shayun, then turned to the captain and said: “Sound the whistle. When she hears it, she will know it’s not that ship, maybe she’ll feel more at ease.”

The captain nodded, turned the brass wheel, and a hoarse whistle sounded, dragging a long echo through the dusk.

Shayun lifted her head, saw the sailor waving, and returned a faint smile. She gently pressed her hand to her belly and whispered to the child: “It’s not this ship, wait a little longer, Daddy will be back soon…”

In the dim light, her figure was solitary but resolute, like a goddess standing beside a lighthouse, silently praying that on the other side of the sea, a figure was coming, riding the wind.

98
Ten years later, spring, February 1630, the dusk at Da Yuan (present-day Anping) Harbor was tinted with a layer of thin gold. The setting sun dyed the entire sea into fragmented amber, the wood along the dock carrying a salty, damp scent. Sailing ships, facing the wind, swayed with white sails as they entered the harbor. Waves lapped against the pier, and in the distance came the calls of fish vendors closing up and the laughter and shouts of sailors. Seagulls traced clean white arcs across the sky.

Shayun wore a simple, deep-gray cotton dress, standing at the railing of the harbor, hands tightly gripping her cloak as if trying to suppress the chill and the emptiness within. Beside her was ten-year-old Xiuyah, in a pure white dress, her long golden hair tied with a ribbon and draped over her shoulders like sunlight falling on morning mist. Her gaze was clear yet calm, showing maturity beyond her years.

The two of them stood motionless, staring at the harbor entrance, the waves concealing the hope they had been waiting for. Passing sailors and merchants occasionally stopped to look at the mother and daughter; some whispered among themselves, some merely lowered their heads slightly, as if paying respect to their vigil.

On a newly docked sailing ship, the elder sailor Andrew descended the rope ladder, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, his face weathered. Seeing Shayun and Xiuyah in the distance, he immediately removed his hat, raised it high while waving, and hurried over.

“Shayun, Xiuyah, sorry to keep you waiting!” he said, panting, his steps slightly limping, yet full of sincerity.

Shayun turned, a trace of hope flickering in her eyes, her voice trembling slightly: “Andrew, did… did you find out any news about Junsheng?”

Andrew’s expression darkened, he lowered his head, let out a long sigh, then slowly said: “Yes, I did find out. I found Junsheng’s former neighbors in Amsterdam… but the neighbors said that ten years ago he had already moved away, and the family’s whereabouts were unknown. I originally wanted to personally deliver your letter to him, but….”

He took the slightly wrinkled folded letter from his pocket and carefully handed it back to Shayun: “I’m sorry, I could not fulfill your request.”

Shayun took the letter, her fingertips trembling slightly, lowered her eyelids, lips tightly pressed, then after a moment whispered: “I wonder if he… is living well now.”

Andrew frowned, his tone slightly heavier: “Stop thinking about him! The neighbors said that shortly after returning, under his parents’ arrangement, he married a local woman, and after handling his father’s affairs, the family moved away, and there was no more news. He… had already chosen to let go.”

Shayun lowered her head, her knuckles gripping the letter tightly, her gaze slightly misty, her lips quivering, yet no tears fell.

Xiuyah turned her face slightly and asked in a small but clear and firm voice: “Uncle Andrew, father… was he really so heartless?”

Andrew looked at the little girl whose eyes were exactly like Junsheng’s, his tone grave: “Xiuyah, stop thinking about that unfaithful father. His choice is not worth your continued waiting.”

Shayun took a deep breath, carefully slipped the letter into her sleeve, forced herself to remain calm, and squeezed out a strained smile: “Andrew, this trip back from Europe must have exhausted you. Come to my house for dinner? I’ll invite Father Mathew to join… it’s been a long time since you’ve seen each other.”

Andrew nodded, a trace of gentleness appearing in his eyes: “All right. Let me finish settling the cargo accounts first, I’ll come over in the evening.”

The three of them exchanged smiles, though the smiles carried different weights within them.

Andrew turned and left, dragging his somewhat weary figure toward the other end of the dock. Shayun watched his receding back, her eyes distant, as if gazing along a shipping route that had already been severed.

The harbor wind lifted her hair, the sailboat raised newly repaired sails, and a few seagulls leapt between the masts, circling in the afterglow.

The music of Anping Recollection began to play slowly, its low melody intertwining with the sound of the waves like a dream. The camera gradually pulled away; the mother and daughter on the dock stood leaning on each other in the wind, their silhouettes long, like an unfinished longing.

99
Inside Junsheng’s clinic dining room, candlelight softly reflected on the surroundings, the interior filled with the warmth and aroma of wooden furniture, the air seeming to carry the sound of time flowing. On the dining table, there were exquisite ceramic pots and plates. In the pot, venison was slowly stewing, steam rising slightly, the aroma wafting, fragrant and penetrating. The scent of the stewed meat mixed with the herbal aroma, making every inch of air in the room feel nourishing.

Andrew walked around the dining table, squinting slightly, taking a deep breath, smiling: “It smells so good! I can already feel myself getting healthier.” He picked up a pair of chopsticks, shook them slightly, clearly full of anticipation for the dish.

Shayun took a bowl of soup from a side dish and gently placed it in front of Andrew, smiling: “This pot of medicinal venison stew was prepared by Lalu with several Chinese herbs, both nourishing and strengthening. Andrew, since you’ve come all this way and have some rare time, you might as well eat more.”

Andrew took the bowl, carefully scooped some soup, tasted it, closing his eyes in bliss, gently nodding: “Mm, truly delicious! This flavor is flawless, as if every sip nourishes the body. But it’s a pity… Junsheng didn’t get to taste such goodness.” He put down the bowl, looking at Shayun who was busy nearby, a trace of sorrow in his tone.

Once these words were spoken, the atmosphere at the table immediately grew heavy. Everyone exchanged glances, each recalling memories long vanished. Shayun lowered her head, her gaze faintly confused, whispering: “If only he were still here… how wonderful that would be.”

Seeing this, Andrew gently put down his bowl, furrowed his brow, seeming to want to change the topic to ease the heaviness: “After finishing this Far East trip, I should leave the ship and go ashore. I’m not young anymore; it’s time to enjoy some peace and relaxation.”

Mathew, hearing Andrew’s words, let out a light laugh, his tone carrying a trace of ease: “Andrew, after all these years of storms, it’s finally time for you to rest. Old friends should also live a stable life.”

Andrew smiled faintly, taking a deep look at the friends gathered around him, his eyes carrying reluctance and gratitude: “Yes, at this age, the days on the ship are no longer so appealing. Even back on land, perhaps I can only enjoy some sun, drink a bit, taste some fish, and live quietly.” His tone carried nostalgia, seemingly unable to let go of past days.

At this moment, Shayun gently raised her wine glass, toasting Andrew: “Then today, let us toast properly for you. For the hardships over these years, for this extraordinary journey, and for a future of peaceful days.” Her gaze was warm and firm, yet subtly carried a barely perceptible sorrow.

Andrew smiled faintly, returning the toast: “Thank you. I hope that in the future, wherever we are, we can all live safely and happily.” His gaze lingered on everyone’s face as he raised the cup, as if wishing to treasure this moment of peace and harmony.

Mathew also raised his cup, a warm light flickering in his eyes: “Each of us deserves a stable life, though along the way, we’ve gained some things and lost others. May each of us find the place we truly belong.”

Shayun lightly tapped her cup on the table, smiling softly, her tone carrying a hint of hope: “Perhaps, someday in the future, everything will have its answer.”

They all smiled at each other. Though each hid past stories unknown to the others, at this moment, the food and wine on the table—whether the flavor of the venison or the unspoken emotional exchange—seemed to tell them that no matter what the past was, this present moment was still the most real.

100
The Dabangya estate sat nestled in a verdant valley, surrounded by dense trees. Through the windows, sunlight slanted into the interior, illuminating carved wooden cabinets and thick carpets. The living room carried a faint scent of sandalwood, every corner filled with warmth and a tranquil atmosphere. Dabangya sat on a golden velvet sofa, holding Xiuyah in her arms, gently stroking her golden hair, her gaze full of affection and concern.

Xiuyah quietly nestled in her grandmother’s arms, her eyes carefree, still filled with innocence and expectation toward the world. Dabangya’s fingertips lightly stroked Xiuyah’s hair, sighing softly: “Poor child, from birth until now, she has never even seen her father.”

Li Qinghua sat on a nearby sofa, his face carrying a trace of worry, his tone calm yet helpless: “Shayun, stop waiting for Junsheng. He won’t come back. After so many years, the truth you should understand, you should have understood long ago.”

Dabangya turned her head, a barely perceptible sadness in her eyes, slowly speaking: “Yes, Shayun, Xiuyah should have a father to love her, so that she won’t grow up a lonely child.”

Xiuyah innocently tilted her head, looking at her grandmother, smiling without worry: “Grandma, I have Daddy Karly!” Her tone carried not a trace of concern, seeming to feel safe in this family.

Dabangya smiled faintly, yet inwardly sighed. She gently released Xiuyah, turning to Shayun, her tone warm and sincere: “Shayun, over these years, Karly has always accompanied you mother and daughter. He’s a man who cares for his family; why don’t you consider accepting him? This way, perhaps Xiuyah can have a complete family.”

Shayun sat by the window, her gaze distant, as if recalling past moments. Her hands tightly gripped the tea cup beside her, fingertips slightly trembling, her voice low: “Sena, I believe Junsheng will come back. He once promised me he would return.”

Dalai stood up from a nearby chair, approached Shayun, and whispered: “Stop being foolish, elder sister. If Junsheng really cherished you and Xiuyah, he would have come back long ago.” He looked at Shayun, his eyes carrying some helplessness and counsel, but more so anxiety for the future.

Shayun lowered her head, softly speaking to herself, her tone carrying persistence and a hint of sadness: “Junsheng said it himself, he would come back. No matter what happens, he will come back.” Her voice gradually weakened, as if no longer wanting to mention the past, yet the hope in her heart had never extinguished.

Dabangya shook her head, sighing softly, her gaze revealing some pain and disappointment. She reached out and gently covered Shayun’s hand with her own, her tone helpless: “Shayun, so many years have passed. You should know, reality’s cruelty is sometimes heavier than we imagine.”

The whole family fell silent for a moment, the air seemingly frozen in the room. The only sounds were the rustle of leaves in the breeze outside and distant birdsong. Each person seemed lost in their own world, silently enduring the pain and helplessness in their hearts.

At this moment, Dabangya gently patted Xiuyah’s back, holding her tightly, as if seeking some comfort, yet powerless to change reality.