The Nightingale Never Crosses the Huangpu River

That year, the snow and wind swept across Shanghai. He stood with his suitcase and said to me, “Wanyi, wait for me. I’ll come back and marry you.”

Three years later, I was the hottest singer at the Paramount, and he appeared with his modern wife on his arm.

Amid the clink of glasses, he asked in a low voice, “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

I smiled and swallowed the bitterness of the whiskey. “Young Master Shen, actresses have no hearts. You actually believed me?”

Through the haze, I heard him pound on the door and scream, “Wanyi! My family forced me to write that letter!” But I could no longer speak. All that remained were hot tears rolling down my cheeks.