◎ Long-Lasting ◎

Pages of information on Gu Qiao emerged from the fax machine. Madame Liao, though based in Singapore, had no difficulty staying informed about Gu Qiao’s activities.

This girl was truly something. Madame Liao found herself rather fond of that drive — if her son had been a wealthy gentleman of leisure, the two of them would have made quite a suitable match. Her particular interest in Gu Qiao had begun after her son took up permanent residence in Shanghai.

She had once assumed that with two highly career-driven parents, her son would gravitate toward a partner who valued home and family life over professional ambition.

When Madame Liao had brought her son to Singapore at the time, it had not been for the reasons her ex-husband claimed — that she was defecting to the sweetness of capitalism. Materially, perhaps that was true; but in daily life, things there were far less comfortable than they had been back home.

Her father had always been accustomed to having the final word. Only her son had ever dared to argue back. The most fierce instance had been on her behalf — once, when her father had criticized her with particular harshness, her son had turned and demanded: “What right do you have to treat my mother this way?” His expression had been one of profound humiliation, as though the person being berated were himself. Her father was the most stubborn of men, yet when confronted by a child who challenged him openly in front of the entire family, he hadn’t lost his temper. Everyone present had been astonished — but none dared imitate the example in all the years that followed.

There was simply no enduring the spectacle of a grown man criticizing a child’s mother in front of that child. And her son had been a precocious child — more sensitive to it than most. That was the first time he had taken her hand and said: “Let’s go home.” The gesture didn’t feel like a child holding his mother’s hand. It felt like a grown child shielding her.

Madame Liao had not gone back. Her son had let the subject drop for a long time afterward. And beyond that, he had taken it upon himself to go and play his grandfather’s favorite old tunes at the piano, and to keep the old man company at chess. Her paternal half-brothers had nothing kind to say about this — just look at a mother’s desperation to hold her place in the family business, dispatching her son to charm the old patriarch every day. They resented it openly enough, yet didn’t dare make enemies of him either.

Luo Peiyin had remained until she was firmly established, then left. Before departing, he had had an allergic reaction. He had beaten her cousin’s son in a taekwondo competition — a victory of no great significance in itself, except that her father had specifically held a celebration in Luo Peiyin’s honor. Children’s hatred is the most unguarded kind: knowing Luo Peiyin had a tomato allergy, the cousin deliberately splashed tomato juice on his arm. Luo Peiyin had always been allergic to tomatoes, and direct skin contact produced a worse reaction than eating them. The malice was too transparent to conceal — it was practically a confession. Her father was furious, and the cousin’s parents — her brother — naturally led the way in apologizing: we have failed in raising our son.

Once the allergic reaction had subsided, Luo Peiyin insisted on returning home. Everyone assumed he was leaving because of the incident. She knew differently. Her son had been wanting to leave for a long time — the allergy had simply provided a ready-made excuse. She even suspected, knowing how resourceful her son was, that he had deliberately not stepped aside. Her father, certain that Luo Peiyin’s insistence on leaving was a sign he had been badly treated in this family, developed a new layer of sympathy and regard for her.

Whether intentional or not, her son’s allergy and departure had helped her — pushed her one step further toward success. But no mother could receive that kind of help from her child and feel entirely at peace with it.

After her son returned to China, her ex-husband remarried not long afterward. Even finding himself a younger wife could be dressed up as an act of fatherly devotion — because once married, the care of even his children from the previous marriage could be handed over to the new wife, with no further involvement required on his part. How could one person move through life with such ease? She was almost envious.

Though separated from her son by a great distance, Madame Liao had through the old housekeeper a firm grasp on every piece of news from the Luo household that she wished to know.

At the time, Madame Liao had investigated the background of her son’s stepmother. Who her ex-husband chose as his current partner was no concern of hers — but who her son was living with most certainly was. Zhou Zan’s father had officiated at her ex-husband’s remarriage ceremony, and Zhou Zan himself had apparently been sent to the countryside during the same period and in the same region as the new Madame Luo’s hometown, which had once led her to suspect some prior connection between Zhou Zan and the current Madame Luo. The truth turned out to be that Zhou Zan had once been romantically involved with this woman’s elder female cousin. Madame Liao had privately found herself impressed at the current wife’s composure — managing to maintain an amicable relationship with a man who had, in effect, abandoned her cousin, and turning that relationship to her own advantage. The investigation ended there. So long as the current Madame Luo was willing to maintain a cordial surface, none of the rest of it mattered. It was only when Madame Liao learned of Luo Peiyin’s permanent move to Shanghai that she retrieved this information from memory.

Luo Peiyin called to say he would not be returning to Singapore for the Lunar New Year. Madame Liao was not particularly surprised — among her nieces and nephews, not one would willingly spend the Spring Festival in Singapore unless a senior family member specifically required it.

But her son wasn’t going elsewhere for a holiday. He was spending the break in Beijing.

“Are you based in Shanghai because of Gu Qiao?” Madame Liao didn’t believe for a moment that Luo Peiyin’s move to Shanghai was entirely Gu Qiao’s doing — but she had always felt the girl had something to do with it.

“No.”

Madame Liao had barely exhaled in relief when she heard her son add: “But if not for her, I likely wouldn’t have come this early.”

Madame Liao smiled: “You’ve known each other for so long — what’s made things suddenly close between you now?” Had the girl grown up, and he had suddenly discovered qualities he’d missed before? This kind of love didn’t quite stand up to scrutiny.

“The girlfriend I mentioned to you before has always been her.”

Though Madame Liao had harbored suspicions, hearing her son confirm it directly still surprised her. Surely not — her son had turned out to be something of a hopeless romantic after all. That was the last thing she wanted for him. Her expectations of a son and a husband were entirely different matters.

Madame Liao had no use for her ex-husband’s current, unremarkably comfortable domestic life. She looked down on his having chosen the easy path — a path validated by generations of successful men before him: a wife managing the home front while he focused entirely on his career, even the children from his previous marriage neatly transferred to the new wife’s care, not a thing to worry about. Her contempt was not unmixed with envy. No such pre-worn path had been laid out for her to follow. She’d had to find her own way through.

But when it came to her son, Madame Liao would rather he chose the easy road, however conventional and ordinary. Her own life was not a film — she had no need for dramatic new storylines from her son.

Madame Liao kept her surprise to herself: “But last time you said you were still in pursuit of her. What happened to that?”

Luo Peiyin hadn’t mentioned anything about a breakup. He laughed and said: “A relationship isn’t a one-time transaction — just because someone says yes once doesn’t mean you can rest on that for the rest of your life. I have to keep proving my sincerity every now and then.” He deliberately glossed over the period of separation, as though it had barely registered as a disruption in his life.

“Once Gu Qiao has some free time in the coming days, we’ll come to Singapore together to visit you.”

A couple just dating had no need to make a special trip to Singapore to meet the family.

Madame Liao feigned incomprehension and laughed: “You’re more old-fashioned than I am. There’s no need to introduce a girlfriend to the parents — I’m not that traditional. You’re only dating; you don’t need my opinion.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You’re still young. There’s no hurry for many things. You’ve known each other for a long time, but since you went abroad, the time you’ve actually spent together doesn’t add up to very much. Distance has a way of lending things a beauty that may not hold on closer inspection. Whether you’re truly compatible takes time and proximity to discover.”

Luo Peiyin didn’t argue against this directly: “That’s a fair point. I also feel we haven’t spent enough time together in the past — something we should certainly change going forward.”

Madame Liao nearly laughed at that. Life truly did love to play games with her. The same story seemed to be staging itself again.

“I know young people never want to take advice from their elders about matters of the heart. Your grandmother defied the family’s wishes and married your grandfather; when my own mother tried to stop me from marrying your father, I didn’t listen either. How that all turned out, you’ve seen for yourself. Love is no cure-all. Young people always believe they’re different from everyone else, but in the end they all end up the same. Two people who are both too strong-willed aren’t suited to be together.”

—

Luo Peiyin recognized the sentiment immediately. His father had said something much the same. For two people who had fought constantly, his parents had somehow managed to reach a rare consensus on this one point.

“Do you regret it?”

Madame Liao disliked being turned with a question. But she had no regrets.

“I don’t regret what has already happened — that serves no purpose. But we should draw lessons from the past rather than pretend those lessons don’t exist.”

A silence followed — long enough that Madame Liao began to wonder whether her words had taken effect.

“I can’t say with certainty what the future holds — and even if I could, you wouldn’t believe me.” Luo Peiyin said, through the phone, what he had confirmed to himself again and again: “But the one thing I know for certain is this: if Gu Qiao and I can’t make it last, then I couldn’t make it last with anyone.”

—

Zhao Yue called to congratulate Gu Qiao — for the past several days, her name had been all over the industry press and the local papers alike.

“I’ve told my sales team to study your methods. Come give us a lecture sometime.”

Gu Qiao accepted the thanks without false modesty, though she was well aware his properties were selling just fine. Property had location and floor plan working in its favor — it didn’t require the same intensity of promotion that she brought to her work.

“I’m not saying this to pressure you, but if you don’t decide on that apartment soon, it’ll be gone. I mean it.”

She wasn’t in Shanghai anyway, and Luo Peiyin was doing perfectly well in his hotel room: “I appreciate the thought — but the other day I was genuinely just passing by and having a look. I wasn’t planning to buy.”

Zhao Yue finally couldn’t hold back his curiosity: “Was that Lin Haichuan — the one you went to see the apartment with — your boyfriend?” Based on his knowledge of his old friend, he had always felt Luo Peiyin had some kind of feeling for Gu Qiao. Not a word about Gu Qiao and Lin Haichuan had passed between him and Luo Peiyin. He hadn’t said anything — but Gu Qiao’s news over the past few days had been inextricably linked to Lin Haichuan: the signing of genuine copies together, everywhere together. He’d been genuinely worried the old friend might have taken a blow. So in every exchange with Luo Peiyin, he had scrupulously avoided all mention of feelings — never steered the conversation anywhere near that territory.

“What are you thinking? We’re purely professional colleagues.”

Gu Qiao once again confirmed that Luo Peiyin hadn’t told Zhao Yue they were together. Given the history, she decided to understand his reasons.

“My mistake, my mistake.”

The first time, it had been Luo Peiyin who made their relationship public. This time, it should be her turn. She wasn’t going to let him go through the embarrassment of announcing something only to have it fall apart shortly after.

“My boyfriend is someone you know very well — in fact, you’ve known him even longer than I have. I may have used to call him my cousin, but now he’s my boyfriend. So going forward, please stop using ‘your cousin’ as a way of referring to him.”

Gu Qiao hadn’t said his name, but every word unmistakably pointed to one person. Zhao Yue couldn’t fault Luo Peiyin for not telling him — he hadn’t exactly left an opening for the conversation.

Zhao Yue used laughter to smooth over the awkwardness of being the last to know: “So my honorary cousin has become a future sister-in-law — this is wonderful news. I absolutely must treat you both properly.”

“It should be us treating you. Two people hosting one — that’s only fair.”

Though Gu Qiao had no particular desire to make dinner plans with Zhao Yue today. Things had finally drawn to a close, and she declined all invitations. Tonight, she had reserved for taking Luo Peiyin to dinner — just the two of them.