◎ In This Town, Does Riding a Bicycle Count as “Driving”? ◎

The money was ultimately found at the post office. After sitting uncollected for two months, it had been returned to the original sending post office. Because Lou Deyu had been living without a fixed address during this period, he had filled in a random return address on the remittance slip. The return notice had no way of reaching Lou Deyu, leaving him under the impression that the money had long since arrived in Gu Qiao’s hands.

After retrieving the money, Gu Qiao immediately began filling out another remittance slip — she was going to send the funds to her mother. She didn’t fully trust Lou Deyu not to have a change of heart and sink the money into some grand business venture again. While she filled out the slip herself, she sent Lou Deyu to queue up and place a long-distance call to her mother.

With over a thousand yuan and Lou Deyu both unexpectedly recovered, Gu Qiao practically bounced out of the post office. Her aunt had practically dressed her from head to toe in white that day; in Luo Peiyin’s eyes, she looked like a big white rabbit.

“Cousin, why are you still here?” Before going into the post office, she had already told Luo Peiyin to hurry back home with Luo the fourth child, since her aunt would be worried if she didn’t see her younger son come home.

Luo the fourth child jumped in first: “Once we drop you off, Second Brother is taking me to KFC. I already called Mom to tell her not to wait for us.”

Gu Qiao shot a grateful smile at Luo Peiyin: “Thank you.”

Although the one thousand five hundred and fifty yuan sent in May had come back, Lou Deyu was still thinking about Gu Qiao having missed the university entrance examinations because of him.

While only Luo Peiyin had been there, Luo the fourth child had been bursting to talk; now that Gu Qiao was back, his mouth was going full speed. He told Gu Qiao: “Every time I think about going home and eating Auntie Zhang’s cooking, I don’t really want to go back anymore. Cousin, I was just reminiscing about the days when you used to cook — especially your candied sweet potatoes and your fried chicken.”

Lou Deyu perked up at this: “Gu Qiao was cooking at your place?”  Was she being used as a live-in cook?

“Before Auntie Zhang came, Cousin Qiao did all the cooking for us. And her dishes just kept getting better — no one else can compare. If you don’t believe me, ask Second Brother. Second Brother, you love Cousin’s cooking too, don’t you.”

Luo Peiyin switched on the car stereo, and the music drowned out the rest of Luo the fourth child’s words.

Gu Qiao told Lou Deyu: “Didn’t you always used to tell me about this person or that person who opened a restaurant in Chinatown and makes tens of thousands of dollars a year? Practicing my cooking isn’t a bad thing — every extra skill is another door. Besides, I had nothing to do all those days. Being helpful when I could was only right.”

But then Lou Deyu’s voice rose above the music: “Come back with me. Study for one more year. I refuse to believe you can’t pass the university entrance examinations this time.”

Still conscious of the others in the car, Gu Qiao kept her voice low: “Even without everything that happened with you, I wasn’t particularly keen on school. Didn’t you used to say — what’s the use of all those years of studying when you earn less than I do?”

“Are you the same as me?” The fact that he had little education was true — if he couldn’t boast about it, at least he didn’t have to put himself down. But these days, what family with any standing didn’t send their children to school? Look at the young man driving the car right now — by every measure of height and build, he seemed far more suited to going out and working than Gu Qiao, yet he was still in school.

Lou Deyu held firm: “You’re a girl. A man can go out and make his way in the world at any age — it’s different for a girl! Come back with me and study for another year!”

“What does being a girl have to do with it? I’m every bit as capable as you. Plenty of people start earning money at a young age. If they can do it, so can I. Don’t say another word — I’ve already decided.” She finished speaking and gave Lou Deyu a small shake of her head, signaling: *don’t bring this up in the car.*

With others present, Lou Deyu let the matter drop.

The ride was smooth and steady — slower than the trip to the post office. That earlier drive had felt as fast as her own heartbeat racing with anticipation. The car finally came to a stop at Zhenjier Alley. Luo Peiyin asked Gu Qiao: “What time will you head back? I’ll come pick you up.”

“Cousin, you’ve already done so much today — I can get home on my own.”

Lou Deyu cut in: “Gu Qiao won’t be going back tonight — she’s staying at the Chen’s.”

Luo Peiyin ignored Lou Deyu and spoke directly to Gu Qiao: “I’ll come at nine.”

“I… thank you, Cousin.”

Gu Qiao watched the car until it disappeared from sight. Then Lou Deyu said: “I say a hundred things and you don’t agree with any of them. But whatever this fellow says, you say yes to all of it.”

“Cousin is looking out for me. He drove us all over the place today, gave up most of his afternoon. If I didn’t show gratitude for that, I’d be terribly ungrateful.”

“He’s not at ease? What does he have to not be at ease about! I’m the one who’s truly not at ease — I can see that young man has no good intentions toward you! His father married three times — how good can a son like that turn out to be? Who knows how many girls he’s been stringing along behind the scenes.”

“You really are shameless — what kind of things are you saying! I’m embarrassed just listening to you. Cousin has a good heart. Your mind is in the gutter. He’s not that kind of person, and I’m not that naive either.” Gu Qiao thought of the hint her aunt had given her earlier, and made her position clear to Lou Deyu: “I only think of him as a cousin.” And a cousin without any blood relation at that — which was precisely why proper manners were important. She understood that nothing he did for her was something he was obligated to do, that she must express gratitude in a timely manner and find ways to return the kindness in due course. Whatever couldn’t be repaid immediately should at least be acknowledged with genuine appreciation. It was with this mindset that she had been provisionally passing the tests her aunt set for her — even though she and her aunt did share blood.

“These city-bred young men from good families have more tricks up their sleeves than a hornets’ nest. I don’t mean anything else by it — I’m just giving you a warning.”  Lou Deyu was quite traditional on such matters. He always felt that talking to Gu Qiao about things like entanglement and romance and love was somehow inappropriate for someone in his position, yet if he didn’t warn her and she ended up being deceived, what then?

“Come back with me and study for another year. If other people can get into university, so can you!” If she came home to study, he wouldn’t need to worry about this either.

“My mind is made up — there’s no point saying more. Even as far as studying goes, I can work and attend evening classes later on. Who says studying means sitting in a classroom all day long? Rest assured — even without a university degree, I won’t fall behind anyone.”

In the space of half a day, Gu Qiao had seen Lou Deyu look dejected and crestfallen more times than she had in all her previous years combined. She encouraged him: “Dad, I believe in you. You made a good life for our family those years before — this time, as long as you work hard and stop trying to make a fortune overnight, our lives will be back on track within a few years. You really have to give it your best!”

As they stepped through the Chen family’s door, the spark of spirit that Lou Deyu had recovered came back into him. Auntie Chen was surprised and delighted to see him: “Brother! Where have you been all this time!” Then, eyeing the pastry box: “You shouldn’t have brought anything — your coming is enough!”

Chen Hui noticed that both father and daughter seemed somewhat changed from before — though the change in Lou Deyu was by far the greater.

Seeing Gu Qiao again, Chen Hui noticed she seemed quieter and more composed than before. Something about her appearance reminded him of Zhou Zhining. He had met Zhou Zhining through the school’s English corner — her pronunciation had left him feeling a little embarrassed about his own. Later, when he visited the Zhou household and saw a whole shelf of English books, he understood where that gap came from. The two people Zhou Zhining mentioned most often were Luo Peiyin and her father Zhou Zan, always in a tone of evident pride. At her invitation, he had gone to the Zhou household once with some others from the English corner. Professor Zhou was said to be one of the most devoted and approachable people at the university, and Chen Hui thought he was even better than his reputation — a few brief exchanges of conversation had felt, without exaggeration, like basking in warm spring sunshine. Professor Zhou understood him in ways his own father never had.

Chen Hui had always bristled at his father’s saying: “A dragon begets a dragon, a phoenix a phoenix, and a rat’s son knows how to dig holes.” His father’s vision was too narrow — he always thought that for a driver’s son to get into university was bringing glory to the ancestors, and that should be enough. But his father had never stopped to wonder why dragons beget dragons: wasn’t it because dragons knew how to become dragons, and passed that knowledge, experience, and opportunity on to their offspring? That couldn’t be explained away with just one word: genes. Good parents didn’t only pass on genes — they provided a good education and broadened horizons. He had sometimes imagined whether he might have developed even further if his father had been more educated and more knowledgeable. Though he had also seen the children of accomplished parents who had made a complete mess of their own lives, he supposed things might have been even worse without those parents.

Much of Chen Hui’s disappointment in his own parentage had been soothed by Gu Qiao’s first visit. Compared to a father like Lou Deyu, his own father was practically perfect — at the very least, his father hadn’t run off with the family’s money and left behind a pile of debt.

By the time Gu Qiao arrived this time, Chen Hui was in the middle of reading a book borrowed from the Zhou household. He had heard that Professor Zhou held regular reading circles at home and was hoping to attend — and to broaden his circle of acquaintances.

At the sight of the father and daughter arriving, Auntie Chen and Uncle Chen were as warm and hospitable as ever. To honor Lou Deyu, Uncle Chen even brought out the fine liquor Lou Deyu had given him. Auntie Chen cracked five eggs to make them a dish to go with the drinks. As Chen Hui watched the father and daughter standing together, he found himself curious about how Gu Qiao had managed, in the space of these past few days, both to transform her appearance and to track down her father.

Chen Qing was particularly taken with Gu Qiao’s clothes that day and asked her: “Is your blouse made of real silk?” She guessed that what Gu Qiao was wearing had probably been selected by her aunt — it was a little mature for Gu Qiao, but it looked expensive, and Gu Qiao’s aunt seemed quite well-off. In Auntie Chen’s eyes, however, the outfit was simply beautiful. Auntie Chen exclaimed admiringly: “Xiao Qiao looks so refined now. A young girl should be clean and neat like this — not like Xiao Qing here, with that bright green eyeshadow plastered on her face, all that painting and powdering on a perfectly good face. I don’t see what’s so nice about it.”

“Mom, that’s called *fashion*!” Chen Qing muttered under her breath, thinking her mother understood nothing.

Gu Qiao had earlier told Lou Deyu she would be working at Z University, and since Chen Hui was studying there too, Lou Deyu brought the matter up again over the meal: “You’ll be at the same school — look out for each other.”

Uncle Chen agreed: “Chen Hui, take good care of your little sister here. What a coincidence, the two of them ending up at the same school. Who got her this job?”

Lou Deyu said quietly: “My sister-in-law.”

Chen Qing couldn’t resist asking: “Xiao Gu, where does your aunt work?”

“The municipal library.”

Chen Qing gave a brief “oh” — a workplace that inspired absolutely no excitement in her whatsoever.

After dinner, Auntie Chen maintained her cheerful warmth: “Xiao Qiao, you’ll sleep in Xiao Qing’s room again.”

“Thank you so much. My father is heading home tomorrow, and he and Chen-uncle haven’t seen each other in ages — this evening is a good chance for them to catch up. I have plenty of chances to visit in the future, so I won’t stay tonight.”

“It’s this late already. How’s a young girl going to get home on her own? Listen to Auntie and stay the night.”

“Don’t worry about me — my cousin is coming to pick me up.”

“Your aunt’s son? You might as well spare him the trip back and forth — I’ll have your Xiao Hui-ge see you home.”

“Don’t trouble Xiao Hui-ge — my cousin is arriving here at nine. He’s coming by car.” Going by car was a bit more comfortable than coming by bicycle at least.

Hearing the word “car,” Chen Qing’s eyes lit up. She had recently been memorizing license plate information about different cars, and asked Gu Qiao: “Xiao Gu, your cousin really looks after you. What kind of car does he drive?”

“I’m not entirely sure — it’s not his car anyway.”

Gu Qiao actually had made a point of noting the car’s emblem; her curiosity about the world around her was no less than Chen Qing’s. In recent days, while scouring the newspapers for news of Lou Deyu, she had also carefully read every advertisement on the page. But she said nothing of that now — it would seem like she was showing off on someone else’s behalf, even if the car wasn’t anything particularly expensive or famous.

“Is he a driver? Does he drive a taxi? Like how my dad drives for his work unit — he can’t take the car home in the evenings.”

“He’s still in school.”

Given Gu Qiao’s age, her cousin was presumably a university student. Chen Qing found herself newly curious about Gu Qiao’s older cousin: “Which university does he go to?”

“The same as Xiao Hui-ge.”

Chen Qing poked her brother: “Brother, Xiao Gu’s cousin goes to your school! What’s his name? Maybe you know him.”

“Luo Peiyin.”

It was Chen Hui’s turn to be surprised: “Your cousin is Luo Peiyin?” Luo Peiyin was a year ahead of Chen Hui, though not necessarily older in age. He was quite well-known in their department — not for his academic performance, but because he had been a keyboardist in a fairly notable school band. In recent years, some of the more artistically inclined students on campus had shifted their passion from poetry to music; some had been absorbed by music all along. While a few of these young men couldn’t even read sheet music, that hadn’t stopped them from declaring their willingness to die for rock and roll. Some had formed bands, while others had become audience members, always ready to join a band the moment an opening appeared. Chen Hui, though not involved himself, had heard various things about it.

Gu Qiao nodded. From Chen Hui’s familiarity with the name, she gathered that her cousin was apparently quite well known on campus.

“He’s in my department — one year ahead of me.” Chen Hui didn’t pay much attention to campus gossip and knew only what circulated in rumor. He naturally had no knowledge of Luo Peiyin’s family history, and Gu Qiao certainly wasn’t in the habit of briefing everyone she met on the subject of her cousin’s father’s three marriages. Hearing Gu Qiao speak of him this way, Chen Hui simply assumed Luo Peiyin was Gu Qiao’s aunt’s own son. Only an actual cousin would bother coming personally to pick someone up.

“Xiao Hui-ge, what department are you in?”

“Did he never tell you? We’re both in physics.”

“Oh.” Gu Qiao cast her mind back over every conversation she’d had with Luo Peiyin. What she knew best about him was what he liked to eat and what he didn’t like to eat. Beyond that, she knew almost nothing about him.

Gu Qiao glanced at the clock on the wall — the hour hand was nearly at nine. She pulled Lou Deyu aside and repeated her earlier words one more time: “Dad, I’ll come find you first thing tomorrow morning and go to the train station with you. You have to wait for me. You must go home. As long as you go home and work hard and pay off the debt, our lives will get better again before long. You absolutely must.”

Lou Deyu didn’t try this time to persuade Gu Qiao to stay and sleep at the Chen household — though he had had some private reason for preferring that, namely that staying at the Chens’ would guarantee she would never run into Zhou Zan. Yet the Luo household was clearly better-off, and nominally more legitimate as well — after all, Gu Jinghui had lived in Gu Qiao’s maternal grandmother’s home for so many years, so it was entirely appropriate for Gu Qiao to stay with her. Gu Qiao had already suffered enough because of him. He didn’t want to make things harder for her.

Chen Qing had tagged along with her parents and Lou Deyu to see Gu Qiao off, hoping to catch a glimpse of what kind of car Gu Qiao’s cousin was driving. At the entrance of the alley, all she saw was a yellow micro-van. Just as she was wondering why someone who was neither a taxi driver nor a freight hauler would have such a vehicle, the micro-van rumbled past and was gone, leaving only its rear in her sight. The only remaining vehicle was a bicycle. Chen Qing shifted her gaze from the bicycle to the person standing beside it. At first glance, she thought: *Xiao Gu’s cousin is quite good-looking.* Gu Qiao’s aunt must be very beautiful. But wait — in whatever part of the country Xiao Gu was from, did people call riding a bicycle “driving a car”?

Gu Qiao was quite familiar with Luo Peiyin’s bicycle — she had borrowed it just a few days ago to go grocery shopping. She hadn’t expected her cousin to come by bicycle. It wasn’t that she had any particular preference for a car, but riding a bike would be a lot more trouble for him. If she had known, she would have told him not to bother and that she’d find her own way home.

Upon seeing Luo Peiyin’s bicycle, Lou Deyu said to Gu Qiao: “Maybe you should just head back tomorrow morning instead.”

“He’s already ridden all the way here. How can I just let him turn around and go back alone?”

Gu Qiao repeated once more to Lou Deyu what she had just said — that he had to wait for her in the morning without fail.

She waved goodbye to those who had come out to see her off, and jumped onto the back seat of Luo Peiyin’s bicycle. She noticed the seat had been adjusted back up to its highest position — considerably higher than when she had ridden it.

Summer was clinging to its last thin sliver of an ending. The evening breeze blew a few strands of Gu Qiao’s short hair across her lips, tickling her lightly. She caught the faint scent of soapberry — definitely not coming from herself. Her cousin must have pedaled over in quite a hurry; otherwise his back wouldn’t be damp now that it wasn’t this hot anymore. His hair was a little damp too, but Gu Qiao sensed it wasn’t sweat — more like hair that had been washed but hadn’t fully dried.

Threading through one narrow alley after another, green tree branches reached over low walls on either side. Gu Qiao could hear birdsong in the branches. She let the tips of her feet graze the ground lightly and didn’t look at her cousin’s back.

Gu Qiao brushed the strands of hair away from her lips and addressed Luo Peiyin’s back: “Cousin, really — thank you so much. I could have come home on my own. It was so late, and you went to all the trouble of cycling all the way out here.”

The truth was, he hadn’t planned on cycling. But Zhao Yue urgently needed the car, and Lao Qian’s Toyota wasn’t available for him to use either. As for a taxi, the wait would be too long. The time felt too stretched out, so he had cycled instead.

“Cousin, you could have come a little later too — I would have waited.”

“I don’t like keeping people waiting.”

“Oh.”

—