◎ Let’s See Tomorrow ◎

Luo Peiyin suddenly thought of his stepmother — if he waited until after the performance was over for Gu Qiao to go home, it would be far too late.

“How many pairs of jeans do you have left?”

“Two.”

“How much are they each?”

“Thirty-five yuan.”

“Sell those two to me.” When Luo Peiyin went to give Gu Qiao the money, he remembered his money was in the jacket pocket — the jacket Gu Qiao was wearing. “I don’t have any cash on me right now. I’ll pay you back later.”

“If you like them, I’ll just give them to you. Though this size doesn’t suit you — they’d be too short. I’ll bring you a proper size another day.” These loose-cut trousers could be worn by anyone regardless of gender, but since Gu Qiao had originally only intended to sell to young women, she had only bought the sizes young women typically wanted — she hadn’t stocked any in a length that would suit someone of Luo Peiyin’s height.

“I’m giving them to someone else.”

“Oh.” Though Gu Qiao had no idea who Luo Peiyin could be buying trousers of this wrong size for, she was perfectly generous about it: “These two pairs are the same as what I’m wearing now. Does this size work? If not, I can bring you a different size tomorrow.”

Luo Peiyin only followed Gu Qiao’s words and glanced casually at her trousers: “You still have inventory?”

“Of course I do!”

“How much do you have left?”

“Whatever size you want, I can get it for you.” She didn’t have much left at the moment — only this size or slightly larger — but she was planning to restock anyway. In addition to jeans, she could also bring in more mohair sweaters.

“Give me these two pairs first.”

Gu Qiao quickly took out the two neatly packed pairs of trousers. Just as Luo Peiyin was about to take them, their fingertips almost touched, and Gu Qiao pulled back: “Let me wrap them up for you.”

“No need for all that.” Luo Peiyin nearly snatched the trousers from Gu Qiao’s hands and repeated what he’d said before: “I’ll pay you tomorrow.”

“Really, there’s no need to pay me — they’re just two pairs of trousers. My treat!” Gu Qiao tilted her face up to look at Luo Peiyin, full of easy generosity.

Gu Qiao’s short flyaway hairs had been tousled by the wind outside and were now springing out in all directions, like a ruffled rabbit. Without quite meaning to, Luo Peiyin’s hand came up and ruffled her hair — which didn’t smooth anything down at all, but instead made it even more disheveled. So he then smoothed it back down for her. Against the scale of Gu Qiao’s small head, his hand looked very large. His jacket looked very large on her too. She was curled up inside it, looking a little fragile.

At that moment, Gu Qiao had her head bent over her hot chocolate. Luo Peiyin noticed Gu Qiao’s reddening ears and the fine, downy hairs at the nape of her neck — then, as if offering an explanation for what he had just done: “Your hair was messy just now.”

Gu Qiao reached up to feel the hair at her temples but said nothing by way of thanking him for tidying it. She curled up inside Luo Peiyin’s jacket and went on drinking her hot chocolate, eating her popcorn the way a squirrel nibbles at a pinecone.

“Eat up, then take a taxi straight home.”

A taxi was far too expensive — Gu Qiao would never take a taxi when she could take a bus home. But she didn’t argue with Luo Peiyin, only made a soft sound of acknowledgment.

A girl came over and greeted Luo Peiyin. Gu Qiao followed the sound and looked over, seeing a tall girl with hair and eyes a different color from hers. She nearly thought she’d misheard — how could Chinese like that come from a foreign girl?

Gu Qiao noticed the girl was holding a camera and also wore a leather jacket in roughly the same color as the one she was wrapped in. They started out speaking Chinese, which Gu Qiao could follow entirely — this girl’s French name was Yi Lian, but she had given herself a Chinese name: Bai Ling.

—

Luo Peiyin ordered Bai Ling a whiskey, no ice. Gu Qiao heard Luo Peiyin introduce her, saying she was his cousin.

Judging by their tone, Gu Qiao felt Luo Peiyin and Bai Ling could almost be described as old acquaintances. The two of them were speaking Chinese perfectly well, when somehow they switched to English. His pace was too fast — at Gu Qiao’s current level, she hadn’t caught it all.

But Luo Peiyin quickly switched back to Chinese, saying to Gu Qiao: “Give me your paper and pen.”

Gu Qiao hadn’t even wondered how Luo Peiyin knew she always carried paper and pen — hearing his request, she immediately pulled out her card and ballpoint pen.

Luo Peiyin leaned over and wrote down a string of digits: “When you’re done, take a taxi from the door — and when you get home, page this number so I can confirm you arrived safely.”

Bai Ling smiled from the side: “A cousin who restricts your drinking and your curfew is not exactly one who wins popularity…”

But Luo Peiyin seemed entirely unbothered by being the kind of cousin who didn’t win popularity.

Gu Qiao stared at the number on the slip of paper in a daze. Bai Ling looked at Luo Peiyin’s retreating figure, then at Gu Qiao’s hot chocolate, and asked Gu Qiao in Chinese: “May I sit here?”

Gu Qiao smiled and said: “Of course.”

Bai Ling’s Chinese was excellent, so Gu Qiao quickly learned that she was French, studying at a university in Paris, with Chinese as her second foreign language — she was very interested in contemporary China and was currently filming a documentary about young artists. Bai Ling lit a cigarette with practiced ease and blew a stream of smoke. She told Gu Qiao she was very beautiful, like a girl from a Rubens painting — though a real person was always more vivid than anyone in a painting.

Gu Qiao didn’t know who Rubens was, but she accepted the compliment without question and smiled, saying thank you.

“When did you and… my cousin get to know each other?”

“A year ago.” Bai Ling drank the whiskey Luo Peiyin had bought her today. “I asked if he could buy me a drink. And then he actually only bought me a single whiskey, as if I truly had no money to buy my own.” At this, Bai Ling shook her head and smiled. “You Chinese have a saying: playing dumb when you know perfectly well. Your cousin is a master of it — especially when it comes to women.”

“He’s not like that.” Gu Qiao felt that phrase didn’t accurately describe Luo Peiyin — though it was rather remarkable that a foreigner could speak Chinese well enough to know expressions like that.

Bai Ling laughed the moment Gu Qiao denied it. She said to Gu Qiao: “In your eyes, he’s probably just a meddlesome, slightly annoying older cousin. That kind of cousin doesn’t inspire any imagination. Are you afraid of your cousin?” When Bai Ling had been Gu Qiao’s age, she had hated most of all being restricted by others. Bai Ling had noticed that Gu Qiao was completely different before and after her cousin left — before he left, she was tucked inside an oversized jacket, speaking very little, her limited words all amounting to agreement with what her cousin said; but the moment he left, the expression on her face came alive, and she became remarkably vivid.

Before long, Bai Ling formed a new impression. More than afraid, it was more accurate to say this Chinese girl worshipped her cousin. He held the entire band’s rhythm in his hands, yet when the lead vocalist spiraled out of control and drifted off his preset rhythm, he actively adjusted, making the deviation appear as though it had been planned all along.

Gu Qiao’s eyes remained fixed on Luo Peiyin. He was the most still person on the stage — the lead vocalist and guitarist were constantly moving, needless to say; even the drummer’s body surged in sweeping waves of movement when the music intensified; everyone else’s expressions were large and open. But he rarely changed his expression at all.

Yet Gu Qiao’s thoughts were entirely unlike Bai Ling’s. She couldn’t make out any particular contribution Luo Peiyin was making to the performance. While watching him, half her thoughts were: without his jacket, he must not be too cold, right? Beyond that, she only noticed the lead vocalist’s jeans — those torn, skin-tight jeans were nothing like the loose style she was selling. She thought this pale, almost bloodless young man with long hair should wear something much looser — just like the ones she was selling.

—