◎ Cousin ◎

Luo Peiyin handed the newspaper to Gu Qiao: “Did you write this?”

Gu Qiao saw the words on the page — her reader’s letter had finally been published! All those letters she’d written hadn’t been in vain. She wondered whether Lou Deyu would see it. But this burst of joy at seeing herself in print didn’t last long. She immediately realized why Luo Peiyin had come to find her. Setting everything else aside, just the roundabout family connection between the two of them alone was enough to make anyone think Luo Peiyin had put her up to writing such a flattering piece about him.

Luo Peiyin noticed Gu Qiao’s large eyes dart around, and then a long stream of words poured from her mouth without a single stumble.

Gu Qiao gathered her thoughts and decided to conceal her true purpose for writing the letter. She delivered her prepared speech smoothly: “Cousin, at the time I didn’t yet know you were my cousin. I hadn’t finished saying thank you before you left. I had no way of reaching you, but I really wanted to express my gratitude, so I took the liberty of writing you this letter of thanks. I was going entirely from memory. You know, memory can be inaccurate, and at the time I had no way to verify things with you. Some of the phrasing might seem a bit exaggerated to you, but please believe me — it all reflected my genuine feelings at the time. If only I’d known you were my cousin when I wrote it, I would have thanked you in person and saved myself the trouble of putting all this down in writing.”

Having said all that, Gu Qiao looked up at Luo Peiyin. She found him still staring at her. He was looking at her but saying nothing. It seemed as though the matter was still rather serious.

Though she felt uneasy inside, Gu Qiao kept it under control. To demonstrate her sincerity, she kept her own eyes fixed on Luo Peiyin: “Cousin, I truly didn’t know you were my cousin at the time — otherwise I would never have written it. I understand this letter may have caused you some inconvenience. Anyone who doesn’t know the full story and learns about our family connection might think you deliberately had me write a flattering letter about you. But I really didn’t know at the time. I mailed the letter two weeks ago — if you don’t believe me, I can show you proof.”

“You wrote this thank-you letter purely out of gratitude?”

Gu Qiao continued to hold her wide eyes on her cousin: “Of course, Cousin. What other motive could I possibly have?”

Gu Qiao was still thinking of how to make her explanation more convincing when she heard Luo Peiyin ask: “Have you found your father?”

Luo Peiyin didn’t quite believe Gu Qiao’s explanation — she had deliberately glossed over the most important part. If it was simply a thank-you letter, why bother being so specific about the “unfreezing national assets” scheme? Her father still hadn’t returned, the family’s belongings had been cleaned out by creditors, and her mother had bravely taken on the debt. These details felt far more authentic than the gushing words of thanks she’d showered on him. He didn’t think her circumstances were fabricated — unless she was trying to solicit donations — but so far he hadn’t detected any sign of that from Gu Qiao.

Gu Qiao’s prepared responses were rendered useless. She replied in a low voice: “Not yet.” The brightness in her voice was gone.

“You came to the capital this time to look for your father?”

Gu Qiao murmured in affirmation.

“You wrote this thank-you letter in order to find your father?”

Gu Qiao said nothing, but Luo Peiyin already knew the answer. When she was lying, she chattered on endlessly; when speaking the truth, she fell silent instead. Just now she’d been staring up at him with those big eyes as if she were the picture of innocence, but now she had lowered her head.

Gu Qiao hadn’t originally planned to tell anyone else in the Luo family about Lou Deyu, but having no one to talk to and being forced to work through everything alone was suffocating. When Luo Peiyin brought it up, Gu Qiao had an impulsive moment and couldn’t help but say a few things about her own situation. She kept it brief — covering the essentials from the moment the creditors came knocking. When she finished, she couldn’t help asking: “Cousin, besides filing a missing persons report at the police station and posting notices in the paper, is there any other way to find my father?” She thought that as a newcomer, Luo Peiyin — who was more worldly than she was and knew more people — might have more ideas.

If the man hadn’t been kidnapped, he could come home any time he wanted. The fact that he wasn’t coming home meant only one thing: he didn’t want to. To Luo Peiyin, this was completely obvious. But Gu Qiao seemed not to grasp this at all. She appeared sharp, but in reality she was single-minded.

What surprised Luo Peiyin most was that Gu Qiao had dropped out of school this very year because of her father’s debts. He’d assumed she had simply lost interest in studying and come to the city to work. If the stepmother and Gu Qiao were truly as close as she described, the natural thing would be to help fund her return to school. His father was always talking about rural education, yet right under his roof was someone who had dropped out for lack of money. Without the stepmother needing to do anything — without even having to say anything deliberately — simply describing Gu Qiao’s situation truthfully would be enough for the old man to offer her financial support to return to school. And yet here was Gu Qiao, managing the household.

At this point he was certain the letter had been entirely Gu Qiao’s own doing, and that the stepmother knew nothing about it. The stepmother most likely didn’t want anyone in the Luo family to know.

“Your cousin-aunt doesn’t know you wrote this letter, does she.”

“She doesn’t.” It was only now that Gu Qiao realized her cousin-aunt might also be displeased about the letter. She knew perfectly well that her cousin-aunt had no desire for anyone to know she had a relative like Lou Deyu. She chose her words carefully: “My aunt is already very unhappy about my father not coming home — bringing it up would probably set her off again. If no one asks about this, let’s just not mention the letter at all.”

Luo Peiyin had no intention of mentioning it either. She’d printed his full name in the paper and then fabricated the whole thing. In a couple of days, everyone who knew him would probably have heard about it. All he’d done was point the way, yet she’d insisted on describing him as walking her all the way home. Of course, someone like Gu Qiao, who had no sense of boundaries, would interpret this as a simple act of kindness. Stripped of the actual facts of that day, any reasonable person reading the newspaper’s description would assume he had ulterior motives toward this girl.

But the matter was done. Dwelling on it would change nothing — he’d get nothing more than her apology.

The stepmother’s family affairs were not his place to get involved in, and he didn’t know the full picture of Gu Qiao’s relationship with her cousin-aunt anyway.

But Gu Qiao had come to him with her troubles of her own accord, and he couldn’t simply pretend he hadn’t heard.

Luo Peiyin didn’t bring up finding Gu Qiao’s father — he saw no point in looking for someone who clearly didn’t want to be found. But he did think Gu Qiao should go back to school.

“Have you ever considered going back for another year to prepare for the university entrance exam? If that’s something you want, I can help. Don’t worry about money.”

Gu Qiao hadn’t expected Luo Peiyin to say this. A year of re-studying, then university — it would be years before she’d be earning any money. Besides, she wasn’t particularly passionate about studying. Going through the school system had just been the default path; she’d assumed it was the only option. Now that her plans had been upended, she was starting to consider other possibilities. Even so, hearing Luo Peiyin say this moved her deeply. She believed he was being genuinely considerate. Before this, only her mother had ever told her to go back to school and not worry about money. Her cousin was a little lazy, but he was truly very kind-hearted.

The thanks that usually came so easily to her lips were harder to say this time. Gu Qiao composed herself and smiled at Luo Peiyin: “Thank you, Cousin — but right now I’d rather work. I’ve made up my mind: as soon as summer vacation ends, I’ll start working straight away. By then, Grandma should be about recovered too.” Or her aunt would have found a new housekeeper she was happy with.

“You’ll start working once summer vacation ends?” So Gu Qiao wasn’t working for the Luo family right now. Luo Peiyin inwardly swore under his breath.

Gu Qiao didn’t hear her cousin’s silent curse, but she noticed the complicated look in his eyes. She guessed that someone like her cousin — a dedicated scholar — probably had some prejudice against people like her who weren’t particularly fond of studying. She explained herself: “Life is short. I should do what I’m better at.”

“What are you better at?” He might be able to introduce her to a job she was reasonably suited for. Based on his brief acquaintance with Gu Qiao, she didn’t seem like someone who would be picky. Finding a decent job for her shouldn’t be too difficult.

Gu Qiao asked in all seriousness: “Cousin, what do you think of my cooking?”

“It’s good.” He thought it already surpassed what someone her age would normally be capable of, but Luo Peiyin couldn’t picture Gu Qiao as a cook.

“Does your aunt have any suggestions about your future career?” It was, after all, the stepmother’s business.

Gu Qiao answered honestly: “My aunt hopes I can work in university logistics, but I think with my level of education that’s basically impossible. I just want to do whatever work I can get first — as long as it pays.”

“That’s not necessarily impossible.” In theory, that kind of work required no special skills; the threshold was largely determined by one’s connections, and a high school diploma was sufficient. He had a friend whose mother happened to work in the General Affairs Office at Z University. He would ask whether she could help arrange something. Since he wasn’t certain it could definitely be arranged, he said nothing to Gu Qiao yet.

Having said so much, Gu Qiao felt considerably better. Having this conversation with her cousin had restored her original good feelings toward him. So what if he was a little lazy. Nobody’s perfect — and besides, she wouldn’t be working at his place much longer, so his laziness wouldn’t really affect her.

“The coffee is ready.” She suddenly remembered there was still a guest waiting.

With her warm feelings toward her cousin restored, Gu Qiao asked Luo Peiyin: “Cousin, is there anything you’d like for lunch? I’ll make it.”

“Eating out at noon.”

“Oh.”

“Come along.”

“Is that alright?”

“Of course it is.”

The Fourth youngest — Luo the Fourth — loved fried chicken most of all. Hearing that his second oldest brother was treating everyone to a meal out, he immediately put forward a suggestion: “Let’s go to KFC!” Ever since the city’s first KFC had opened a couple of years ago, Luo the Fourth had become a devoted regular. Unfortunately, his mother wouldn’t let him eat there too often — she said KFC was junk food even in its home country. Luo the Fourth thought: I’m not in that country, so why should their junk food habits concern me.

While making his suggestion, Luo the Fourth also remembered to compliment Gu Qiao: “Cousin’s fried chicken is almost as good as the restaurant’s now.” Though at home there was still something missing — the restaurant had that wonderful aroma of frying chicken in the air, which made everything taste even better.

“You really know how to save your brother money, don’t you? Would he really take you to KFC? Your brother is taking you to the Fujing Hotel for Western food.” Saying this, he turned to Luo Peiyin and remarked with feeling: “Last time I was there, there were a lot of Japanese people — all on package tours. It feels like the Japanese are even wealthier than the Americans now.”

Before heading out, Luo Peiyin noticed Gu Qiao had changed back into her yellow blouse. Both times he’d run into her outside before, she’d been wearing the same garment.

Luo Peiyin opened the car door for Gu Qiao first and let her get in, then sat down in the front passenger seat. He passed her a fan from the front: “The air conditioning in this car is broken. If you get hot, just fan yourself.”

Gu Qiao took the fan and handed it to Luo the Fourth, who was sitting beside her.

As soon as they were in the car, Zhao Yue turned to Gu Qiao: “Cousin, that coffee of yours was really something!”

“Thank you!” Gu Qiao was momentarily startled when she first heard the word “cousin,” then realized he was referring to her. She figured Luo Peiyin must have introduced her as his cousin, and Zhao Yue was simply following suit. She had never been very good at false modesty — when someone paid her a compliment, she never said “oh, not at all” or “you’re too kind,” just thank you.

“Cousin, what music would you like? I’ll put something on for you.”

“Anything is fine with me.” Hearing Zhao Yue call her “cousin” again, Gu Qiao felt it was worth introducing herself properly. She said to Zhao Yue: “My name is Gu Qiao — you can just call me by my name.”

“Your name is Gu Qiao?”

—