◎ Living Off a Woman ◎

Looking out through the window, one could gaze upon the entire city’s night skyline. But Gu Qiao’s eyes weren’t chasing the neon lights outside — they were fixed on Luo Peiyin.

Gu Qiao had originally decided to treat Luo Peiyin to a generous meal, but he had only ordered a few light dishes, being very economical with her money. Finding what he’d ordered far too sparse, she flagged down the waiter to have him grandly introduce the restaurant’s full menu.

The waiter enthusiastically recommended their Australian lobster, salmon, and half-shell abalone, but every time he presented a premium dish and Gu Qiao generously said “that one sounds good,” Luo Peiyin would veto it: “That’s not suitable for you right now. You should eat something light.”

When even the half-shell abalone was rejected, the waiter couldn’t help but size up the man casting all these vetoes. *Not suitable for you* — what kind of reason was that? *You should eat something light.* Translated plainly, didn’t that just mean: the expensive stuff isn’t suitable for you, you should eat something cheap?

He grumbled internally — so it seems you really can’t judge a book by its cover. This man was impeccably dressed, and there wasn’t a trace of poverty in his manner or bearing; he clearly looked like someone who frequented establishments like this. Yet how could he be so stingy when taking his girlfriend out to dinner? And stingy with such righteous confidence, no less. Other men, even when they found the dishes too expensive, would at least put on a performance — wrack their brains to come up with some plausible-sounding excuse rather than making it this obvious.

The world was truly, utterly unfair. The waiter had just discovered another advantage of being wealthy: you could be petty and stingy with complete self-assurance. The poor, by contrast, when placed in situations like this, probably had to tread carefully and put on a show of generosity.

Being a true professional, the waiter’s inner monologue was richly eventful, yet his face maintained its customary smile throughout. What he admired most, however, was the pretty young woman who was doing the ordering — even after being turned down repeatedly, her face showed not a single trace of displeasure.

Gu Qiao smiled at the waiter: “Do you have any red wine recommendations?”

Another rejection: “You can’t drink today.”

Gu Qiao leaned her head close to Luo Peiyin. The red teardrop earrings on her ears swayed gently as she lowered her voice to a level only he could hear: “My rash has almost cleared up. It doesn’t even itch today.” She thought back to how he’d been turning down all those dishes — it was surely because of her.

Luo Peiyin crossed his hands and replied in an equally low voice: “Whether it’s healed or not — I’m afraid I understand that better than you do.” His voice was quiet, but his tone was decisive.

Gu Qiao’s rash was on her back, and Luo Peiyin had been helping her apply medicine twice a day — once in the morning, once in the evening. He had a clearer picture of her condition than she did herself.

Gu Qiao looked at Luo Peiyin’s knuckles, and the image of him spreading ointment on her floated into her mind — as if the moment his fingers had smoothed the cream across her skin had only just happened moments ago.

Thinking of it this way, she felt as though fingers were now roaming across her back.

Gu Qiao had woken in the middle of the night, itching, and had instinctively reached back to scratch. Luo Peiyin’s fingers had caught her hand, and he’d kissed her face, as though that alone could calm her down. Once she’d settled, he’d gone to the room’s mini-fridge to retrieve an ice-cold can of cola, wrapped it in a thin towel, and slowly rolled it across her rashy back. The coolness seeping through the towel had gradually made the itch bearable.

Though no one listening could possibly have guessed at the scene now playing in her mind, discussing it openly in front of a third person made her flush — as if the redness had been caught from her earrings. A tingling numbness crawled up her back, and she knew this itch had nothing to do with the rash.

With a third person present, she didn’t think this line of conversation was appropriate to pursue further. She stopped looking at Luo Peiyin’s hands, adjusted her posture, straightened her back, and smiled at the waiter: “We’ll start with just these, and skip the wine.”

The waiter also noticed the flush on Gu Qiao’s cheeks. He guessed it was embarrassment from her boyfriend’s stinginess, or perhaps suppressed irritation. He observed the man’s expression and bearing once more — not the slightest hint of awkwardness. He was almost ready to feel indignant on Gu Qiao’s behalf: she’d dressed up carefully for this date, only to be turned down one after another. A girl this beautiful had no reason to put up with this.

After the waiter who felt so aggrieved on Gu Qiao’s behalf walked away, the flush on her face still hadn’t faded.

She laughed: “We agreed I was treating tonight — you saving my money like this doesn’t make me happy at all. I know I can’t eat those things, but *you* can. Don’t worry, I’m not the least bit envious. Don’t block me later — I’ll order them all for you.” After their breakup, whenever Gu Qiao ate something particularly good, she’d feel a pang of regret that he wasn’t there to share it. As long as he was by her side, she could treat him generously.

Luo Peiyin said neither yes nor no. He simply sat there, looking at her.

The two large red teardrop earrings on Gu Qiao’s ears swayed gently, and she suddenly laughed: “When I was eighteen, I used to envy housekeepers so much — once they got their wages, they could dress themselves up in all kinds of colors. I used to think I’d just find any job first, as long as it could make money.”

Luo Peiyin’s gaze traveled from Gu Qiao’s sweater to her earrings, then down to her lips. With the new year approaching, Gu Qiao had dressed in a way that carried the spirit of the coming holiday — the red of her sweater was crackling and vivid, as if it had splashed up to catch her ears in its brightness.

“So what changed you later?” Luo Peiyin kept looking at her, watching her make the neon lights outside the window into her backdrop. Color, he thought, had its own sound — the colors she loved had nothing to do with quiet; they had to land with weight, carve out their own space. She refused to be anyone’s backdrop, and went to every length to paint the world into *hers*. Perhaps she had never really changed at all. She had never been someone who was content with what she had.

Gu Qiao didn’t answer right away. Her gaze drifted toward the window. If the floor had been any lower, this city’s night view wouldn’t have arrived at her eyes so complete.

“The more you see, the more you want.” Gu Qiao’s gaze returned from the window, her lashes sweeping open in a single flutter. She looked at Luo Peiyin and smiled.

“My appetite is too good — I want to taste every fine thing there is. I don’t want an allergy to money to stand in the way of that.” Her eyes locked onto Luo Peiyin with unwavering intensity, as though he were the one thing she most wanted to taste.

Luo Peiyin was the first — and only — person who had ever asked her, before ordering food, what she was allergic to. Back then, her appetite had been enormous; she was allergic to nothing except money. But when he was treating and she had no money to reciprocate, having a large appetite wasn’t exactly something to be proud of — sometimes it even needed concealing, pretending her appetite wasn’t quite that good.

Gu Qiao felt a nudge against her knee. This time she didn’t pull away. Her gaze rose to meet his, like a hunter fixing eyes on prey: “When I was eighteen, the only thing I was allergic to was money. I never imagined that today, now that I’m not allergic to money anymore, so many other things would become off-limits. But it doesn’t matter — as long as you can eat it. Since we’re here, you have to try all the specialty dishes.”

“But I’m not used to eating alone. I still prefer us eating together.” Luo Peiyin held her gaze in return. “We’re not only having this one meal together. We have a long road ahead. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to show me your generosity.”

Gu Qiao started to respond, but Luo Peiyin, watching her parted red lips, cut off what she was about to say: “Or is it that this time you’re not certain about ‘the road ahead’? Don’t tell me that this time you’re tasting things the same way you did before — just planning to take a sip and then flee, rushing on to sample the next course. Gu Qiao, when you broke up with me that time — don’t tell me you thought that after ending things with me, you’d find something better.”

Gu Qiao heard this, and for a moment she froze — blood rushing straight to her face: “I never—”

Before she could finish, the waiter arrived with the dishes. Hearing the conversation cut abruptly short, he received a polite “thank you,” followed by silence. He saw the flush on Gu Qiao’s face, and figured she was still upset about the ordering — of course she couldn’t make a scene in front of him. The waiter set down the plates, turned, and walked away with his tray — his heart and ears, however, remained at the table with that man and woman. His steps grew very small, lingering, hoping to catch the words that the two of them had been deliberately withholding from him. He finally heard the girl with the earrings say one sentence: “I have never felt that anyone could be better than you.” She said it with a clear, ringing certainty — as if she didn’t care who heard.

The waiter sighed. He badly wanted that young woman to open her bright, wide eyes and look at this man clearly. *He won’t even let you order a drink — there are plenty of people who would treat you far better.* The man had wonderful looks and presence, sure — but if he wasn’t willing to treat you well, what did any of that matter?

Gu Qiao locked her eyes on Luo Peiyin’s and kept pressing deeper into his gaze, as if determined to let him see straight into her heart.

Luo Peiyin looked back at Gu Qiao directly: “If you feel there’s no one better to be found, and you still want to break up — then you’d be very foolish indeed. But in my mind, you have always been smart. You don’t seem like someone who does foolish things.”

Beneath Gu Qiao’s fluttering lashes, her two eyes looked like two pools of water on the verge of overflowing. She simply looked at him. Purely from a practical standpoint, breaking up with him back then had not been the optimal choice. Far from optimal — it had been outright foolish.

“Gu Qiao, remember this: I am not a prize you’ve won. I am not something you discard the moment it looks like it might fail. I’m not something you can throw away at the first sign of failure.” His eyes fixed on hers. “Those eyes of yours look particularly clever. This time — don’t let me be wrong about you.”

Luo Peiyin looked down and picked up a piece of lettuce with his chopsticks, placing it in her bowl: “Try this — see if it’s as good as yours. A lot of times when I try other new foods, I find it’s just a way of confirming that what I like most will always be those few things. In this respect, I’m not like you.”

He tasted a piece of the lettuce. It was a far cry from what he remembered. Perhaps that dish was more than just a dish — it had held within it his imagination of home.

He had even made a special trip to Chinatown for this dish, but had never found it. At the time, he’d been walking down the street and heard *Drifting Across the Ocean to See You* playing, and he’d thought of Gu Qiao back in China — she had broken her promise, and she wouldn’t be coming anymore. Thinking of her face, remembering her vow, the rage had made his teeth ache.

Gu Qiao tasted a slice of the lettuce. It had been years since she’d made it herself; she’d forgotten what her own version used to taste like. She never had time to cook, and on the rare occasions she did, she deliberately avoided making things he’d loved — the things she’d once promised to cook for him but never had.

Gu Qiao chewed very slowly. When the slice of lettuce had completely disappeared from her mouth, she said: “When I get back this time, I’ll make it for you. I won’t break my word again.”

Hearing him mention *trying*, her mind had immediately leapt to the thought that after their breakup, he might not have had another girlfriend — but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been other failed attempts. She was truly exasperated with herself: even his failed attempts were something she couldn’t bear to think about. She wasn’t going to give him that chance again — not even the chance for another failed attempt.

Luo Peiyin looked at Gu Qiao with a smile: “No rush this time. You’ve been eating light for several days now. Once your rash clears up, let’s try something else first.” He suddenly dropped his voice: “Are you still itching?”

Gu Qiao shook her head, being careful not to look at Luo Peiyin’s hands so as to avoid unnecessary associations. Throughout the meal, their knees brushed against each other in a way that was neither deliberate nor entirely accidental, and though Gu Qiao hadn’t touched a drop of wine, her complexion grew more and more flushed with every flicker of the candle flame.

The waiter had assumed that at least half the color on Gu Qiao’s face was embarrassment and humiliation — after all, she’d come to the date in high spirits only to have every single dish she wanted rejected. But when the bill came, the waiter discovered he had been wrong. Completely and utterly wrong.

It was the woman with the red earrings who paid. The man beside her didn’t even make a show of objecting — as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to pick up the tab. The waiter also received a generous tip. He was so grateful and astonished that even three thank-yous weren’t enough to express it.

The waiter realized he had been deceived by Luo Peiyin’s bearing and appearance. He had actually mistaken who was treating whom.

Watching the man naturally drape a coat around the woman with the red earrings, the waiter’s mind began working at full speed. *Surely not — could it be…?* The man’s earlier refusals to order extravagant dishes now took on an entirely new meaning in the waiter’s eyes. *No wonder he managed to attach himself to a young woman who is beautiful, successful, and generous — looks alone aren’t enough for that. This particular meal isn’t one just anyone can eat.*

Even in the elevator, the flush on Gu Qiao’s face had yet to fade. Luo Peiyin leaned close to her ear and said with a laugh: “Why is your face so red? *I’m* the one who should be blushing.”

“Hmm?”

Luo Peiyin continued with a smile: “Didn’t you see the way that waiter was looking? He must have taken me for a man living off a woman.”

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