◎ When the Warmhearted Citizen Himself Encounters the Letter of Thanks ◎

Every morning Gu Qiao was up early; after washing up, she went straight to the dining room to take stock of the refrigerator. Three tomatoes had been left over from two days ago, but with Luo Peiyin’s return yesterday — since he was allergic to tomatoes — no tomato dishes had been made.

That morning Gu Qiao washed one of the tomatoes, sat down at the dining table to think over what to buy at the market, and ate while reflecting what a shame it was that not being able to eat such good tomatoes was a real loss.

She was in the middle of her tomato when she heard someone in the living room. She glanced over — from Luo Peiyin’s face down to his legs. *His calves really are long.* Then she quickly turned her gaze back and finished the last bite of her tomato.

Luo Peiyin instinctively glanced down at his own shorts. They were athletic shorts — extremely loose, coming down to just above the knee — there was nothing improper about them at all. Out of consideration for living with his stepmother under the same roof, Luo Peiyin was generally careful about his appearance once he left his room, even though he was typically the first one up in the house. Yet Gu Qiao had glanced at him once and quickly turned away, as though she’d accidentally seen something she shouldn’t have.

Only when he had taken a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator did Gu Qiao look back over and call “older cousin” — her voice not quite as bright as usual.

Gu Qiao needed to go to the market, but the bicycle she usually rode had broken down, and it happened that she ran into Luo Peiyin just as he was heading out for his morning run. She noticed his clothes came in just two colors, yet every time she saw him his earphones were different. Today they were blue. His shorts were also considerably longer than what he’d been wearing when she first saw him that morning.

The two of them were the only ones awake in the house. Gu Qiao caught Luo Peiyin just as he was heading out: “Older cousin, could I borrow your bicycle for a bit? I need to go buy groceries!” Though she had a refrigerator available, Gu Qiao went to the market first thing every morning to buy only enough for that day. There were several reasons for this, among them simply that she found the market more interesting than the Luo household.

Luo Peiyin’s bicycle had a crossbar, and since his legs were long, the seat had been raised considerably.

Gu Qiao borrowed the bicycle and was just thanking him when she moved to get on — and Luo Peiyin called out: “Hold on!” He adjusted the seat to a height suitable for Gu Qiao. Before she could get another thank-you out, he had already run off.

When Luo Peiyin returned from his morning run, he was greeted by the sound of the fourth Luo child playing the piano. To keep him from slacking, his mother had specifically kept the door open while he practiced.

There was no one who found listening to the fourth Luo child play more excruciating than Luo Peiyin — he could hear every mistake in the piece. He was perfectly aware that it was not his place to point them out; had he done so, his stepmother would only have extended the fourth Luo child’s practice time. He had never once pointed out any of the mistakes. Not every skill was meant to become a profession, and there were advantages to not having a sensitive ear for music — Gu Qiao, for instance, seemed entirely untroubled by the piano, and was taking advantage of a quiet moment to sit and peel open lotus seed pods.

Gu Qiao was seated at the dining table shelling lotus seed pods, a pot of congee simmering on the stove, a large lotus leaf standing in for the lid. The flowers in the dining room vase had been replaced with lotus blossoms.

When Gu Qiao saw Luo Peiyin come back, she asked warmly: “Older cousin, would you like some lotus seeds?”

“Thank you. You have them.” Noticing that Luo Peiyin had seen the lotus flowers, Gu Qiao told him: “They came as a bonus with the lotus seed pods. If you like them, I can buy more tomorrow and put some in your room.”

“No need.”

Gu Qiao had gone early to the market that morning and bought lotus seed pods — and along with them came the lotus flowers. She had bought quite a few pods: some to eat, and some because she was planning to make a lotus pod lantern as a gift for Luo Peiyin. He had given her a brooch, and since she had no money to give something in return, she would have to put her hands to work instead.

The vendor had thrown in several large lotus blossoms as a bonus, and wrapped everything carefully in lotus leaves that were a little less than perfect. The lotus leaves she’d bought herself were in better condition. While eating the lotus seeds, Gu Qiao had already mapped out the morning’s breakfast in her head. Luo Peiyin had seemed to enjoy the purslane quite a bit yesterday — in gratitude for his gift, Gu Qiao had specially made purslane stuffed flatbreads for breakfast today.

At breakfast, Gu Qiao had prepared two dipping sauces for the flatbreads. One plate had a garlic sauce; the other did not. Gu Qiao placed the sauce without garlic in front of Luo Peiyin.

That evening’s dinner was for guests; in the morning her aunt took her younger cousin to attend a wedding banquet. After seeing them off, Gu Qiao sat in the dining room working on her lotus pod lantern. With only herself, her older cousin, and her younger cousin in the house, lunch could be kept simple. She left the dining room door open and kept one ear out for the doorbell.

When the doorbell rang, Gu Qiao went to answer it.

“Hello — is Luo Peiyin home? I’m his friend.”

The visitor was Zhao Yue. He had found out yesterday that Luo Peiyin was back and had been planning to call today and invite him out for a game of ball or a swim. But that morning, his grandmother had seen a notice in the paper and asked whether the Luo Peiyin mentioned in it was the one he knew. The moment Zhao Yue saw the phrase “warmhearted citizen” in front of Luo Peiyin’s name, he nearly choked with laughter. What genius had come up with that expression? Then he read the content — and the result was even more…

Giving up a seat on the bus was something Luo Peiyin might reasonably do. Blocking a ruffian was well within character. But when someone only asked him for directions, he had apparently gone to the trouble of riding them all the way to their destination in person — at the risk of being late himself — and said it was simply what he ought to do. Which version of Luo Peiyin was this?

Zhao Yue had initially thought of himself and Luo Peiyin as two people without airs. Luo Peiyin was arguably more remarkable on that count — Zhao Yue’s parents were both university professors, an admirable profession, but it also meant that once his grandfather stepped down, his family would drift to the periphery of the social circle, whereas Luo Peiyin was firmly inside it. But after getting to know each other more deeply, Zhao Yue realized the two of them were fundamentally different. His own lack of pretension came from feeling that, strip away wealth and status and everyone was more or less the same — no one was worth taking too seriously. Luo Peiyin’s lack of pretension, on the other hand, stemmed from taking himself extremely seriously — “holding oneself to a high standard while being lenient toward others” was at its core a kind of intellectual arrogance, a belief that you were simply different from other people. And so, as long as his interests weren’t infringed upon, he couldn’t be bothered to argue with anyone — or perhaps simply didn’t see them at all.

Because Zhao Yue had no particular demands of himself, his first encounter with someone who had very high demands of himself had left him, alongside a flicker of novelty, a genuine sense of admiration.

Zhao Yue had been aware of his own shortcomings for a long time — but he quickly realized most people around him had the same shortcomings, and so he forgave himself readily. It was perhaps for this very reason that he harbored no great expectations of humanity in general, himself included. And paradoxically, because he expected nothing, he appeared tremendously tolerant. Nearly everyone who had encountered him found him easy-going and pleasant company. His social circle spanned all walks of life, from top to bottom. Even the security guard at the school gate would sometimes share a joke with him when he passed by. When it came to being “one of the people,” he had Luo Peiyin well and truly beaten. Luo Peiyin was respectful enough toward the old security guard — but the man would never have thought to crack jokes with him.

Zhao Yue’s older brother had made a good deal of money running a company these past couple of years and had traded the Ford in for a Mercedes. The old Ford was passed down, and Zhao Yue drove it around occasionally. His brother, apparently wanting to leverage a connection with Luo Bo’an, had asked Zhao Yue whether he could arrange to have dinner together with Luo Peiyin. Zhao Yue had said: at the level of friendship he and Luo Peiyin were at, getting together for dinner was no problem — but if you wanted him to do something for you, that he couldn’t say. If you don’t absolutely need to go through him, it’s better not to. When you do need to call in a favor from a friend, save it for something that truly matters. A person’s patience has its limits.

Grandmother, reading the paper, was instructing her grandson: “That young Luo is a genuinely fine young man. You should spend more time with people like him! Learn something from him! Don’t just befriend anyone who comes along!”

“Your wisdom is simply without limit! Following your guidance, I can’t count the wrong turns I’ve been saved from taking!” Since Grandmother wore a hearing aid, Zhao Yue deliberately raised his voice.

Grandmother looked at her grandson’s expression and felt, somehow, that something was slightly off. One’s good friend doing a good deed was hardly cause for this level of merriment.

Watching Zhao Yue head for the door with the paper in his hand, Grandmother called after him: “Where do you think you’re going? The watermelon was just cut!”

“I’m going to learn from a good example!”

Zhao Yue didn’t even bother to call ahead — he got straight into his brother’s old Ford and drove to the Luo household.

The person who opened the door was a young girl. Zhao Yue couldn’t quite figure out who she was. She couldn’t have been older than twenty; her short hair had a slight curl to it which, combined with her features, gave her a very sprightly look, though her clothing leaned a bit mature — not quite matching her hair. He did know some young women who deliberately dressed older than their age. He was familiar with all the regular residents of the Luo household; if Grandma Lian were around, she wouldn’t have a guest opening the door.

Zhao Yue couldn’t contain his curiosity and asked: “Where’s Grandma Lian?”

From the familiarity in his voice when he mentioned Grandma Lian, Gu Qiao could tell he was a regular visitor to the house: “She had a little fall a while ago — she’s at home resting. Nothing too serious.” She added: “I don’t think I know your name?”

“Zhao Yue.” He hadn’t even asked her name yet when he heard her say: “Please have a seat, I’ll go get my older cousin for you.”

*Older cousin?* Zhao Yue always came straight upstairs to Luo Peiyin’s room when he visited. He hadn’t even said “I’ll go up myself” before the girl was already taking the stairs two at a time, not leaving him a single opening to speak.

Luo Peiyin heard Zhao Yue was there and called out from upstairs for him to come up. He turned to Gu Qiao and said: “Thank you. Could I trouble you to bring up two cups of coffee?”

Gu Qiao paused. Cooking — something that truly required skill — was right in her wheelhouse, she entirely agreed. But coffee — surely Luo Peiyin was capable of making it himself? Why did he take it so naturally for granted that she would do it? Before, when her aunt had asked her to make coffee or tea for guests, she had understood it as her aunt using the occasion to let her practice the proper way of attending to visitors — and after all, her aunt was older and not as nimble. But her older cousin was a young man in the peak of health. Someone who ran every day for the sake of exertion. Someone who, according to the fourth Luo child, could do thirty pull-ups without stopping. With the household housekeeper temporarily absent, he couldn’t even be bothered to make himself a cup of coffee?

It was as though she were… it was as though she were the household housekeeper. She had absolutely no objection to being a housekeeper — if the Luo family said Grandma Lian was away and they needed her to fill in, she’d be on the job immediately. She badly needed money right now and would never turn her nose up at any work. But she wasn’t receiving a salary. She regarded herself as a relative who had come to help out. Using a relative who was helping out for free as though she were a paid domestic employee — she couldn’t help developing a few doubts about her older cousin’s moral character.

Though based on the earlier incident, she still trusted his fundamental decency. He was probably just lazy — not about everything, just about household matters. He could get up early for a morning run, but apparently couldn’t be bothered to make his own coffee.

Her opinion of her older cousin dropped slightly. Among the words she used to describe him, four new characters appeared: *lazy to the bone.* Still, she didn’t argue with him about it — her desire to move out as soon as possible simply grew a fraction stronger. She said “alright” and went back downstairs, again taking the steps two at a time.

Zhao Yue, heading upstairs, happened to pass Gu Qiao on the way, and noticed she was looking at him. Even in her quick descent, she gave him a brisk nod.

When the door was closed, Zhao Yue said to Luo Peiyin: “That cousin of yours is really something — a real whirlwind! I didn’t even know you had such a lively cousin.”

“She’s a relative of Ms. Gu’s.”

*Ms. Gu seems like quite a composed, steady sort of person herself*, Zhao Yue thought. *The two of them didn’t seem much alike.* He momentarily forgot why he had come: “I heard Grandma Lian was recuperating at home — but there doesn’t seem to be a new housekeeper around…”

“The girl you just met is helping out around the house.”

Zhao Yue gave a small sound of comprehension, thought *ah, that explains it*, and laughed: “That girl’s ‘older cousin’ really does roll off the tongue crisply — like you’re her actual older cousin.”

There was a subtle implication in what Zhao Yue said; Luo Peiyin deflected it in a single line: “That’s just her personality.”

Then Zhao Yue remembered the reason he’d come in the first place. He laughed and waved the newspaper in his hand: “I nearly forgot why I came to see you. Who would have thought you were capable of this kind of thing! *Warmhearted citizen!* Truly warmhearted!”

Luo Peiyin took the paper and read. In the space of barely a minute, at least three distinct expressions crossed his face — which, by Zhao Yue’s estimation, was already quite a range for Luo Peiyin.

“Tell me — what did this girl Gu Qiao do to enchant you? The woman just asked you for directions, and you went out of your way to risk being late just to personally ride her to her destination. Her heart has been warmed by you to a temperature hotter than this summer. And she wrote you a whole long letter of thanks. My grandmother is using you as a teaching example for me. You know, at the level of enthusiasm you’re showing here — if you weren’t good-looking, I wouldn’t rule out a girl calling the police on you as a potential trafficker. I believe that with an act this remarkable, anyone who knows you will have heard about your warmhearted deeds within two days. I don’t even dare imagine what the girls at our university will say when they find out that someone they thought was cold and indifferent is actually just selectively warm to certain people!”

Luo Peiyin’s eyes were fixed on the name printed in the paper — *Gu Qiao*. This person… how had she managed to reconstruct that story? He thought back to what she’d said that day.

*”My name is Gu Qiao — the ‘gu’ of grain, the ‘qiao’ with the feather radical and the upward turn. What’s your name?”*

*”What a truly good person. A good deed done without leaving a name…”*

Luo Peiyin’s reaction was even richer than Zhao Yue had anticipated. He suddenly thought of the person who had opened the door for him: “Oh, right — this girl and your cousin have the same surname too. Gu. You really do seem to have a connection with people named Gu!”

Luo Peiyin hadn’t yet spoken when the room telephone rang. It was a high school classmate, now at the University of International Trade and Economics, who had heard about the matter from a friend at the Institute of International Relations. The call had no particular purpose — just to confirm whether the warmhearted citizen in the paper was the Luo Peiyin he knew.

Zhao Yue took a Bob Dylan record from the shelf and put it on the turntable. He asked with a grin: “Can you tell me what happened between you two after this letter of thanks was written?”

—

Down in the kitchen, Gu Qiao was busy at work when she caught sight of Luo Peiyin coming in out of the corner of her eye. Her first instinct was to say: “The coffee will be ready very soon!”

But Luo Peiyin wasn’t looking at the coffee. He closed the kitchen door and fixed his gaze on Gu Qiao. She felt uneasy for the first time under his gaze. This was the first time he had looked at her for this long. Before, his eyes had never rested on her for more than three seconds at a stretch.

“Older cousin — is something the matter?”