◎ An Unwelcome Guest ◎

Dinner was hand-pulled noodles with soybean paste — a small bowl of thick, dry sauce, four kinds of fresh vegetable toppings. Chen Da Ma’s noodles were wonderfully springy and chewy. In honor of having a guest, she had also gone to the corner grocery store to buy pressed pig-head meat and fried small yellow croakers dipped in batter.

Before dinner, Gu Qiao met Chen Da Ma’s two children: the son, Chen Hui, and the daughter, Chen Qing. Gu Qiao had already heard from Chen Da Ma how well Chen Hui had done in his studies, and his school badge confirmed it — the university name printed on it was one that even the farmers back in their village had heard of. Chen Hui felt somewhat awkward meeting Gu Qiao. He had once caught wind of the proposed match, and of course there was no possibility of that whatsoever.

Looking at Gu Qiao for the first time, Chen Hui found himself thinking, inexplicably, of a girl driving a tractor in a picture book he’d seen as a child. But it was almost the 1990s now; that particular aesthetic was no longer fashionable. Gu Qiao was wearing a bright yellow Peter Pan-collar blouse, her thick black hair pressing low over her forehead. Her pale face was naturally flushed with color at the cheeks, and though she was slender — quite slight, in fact — she carried an air of such vigorous health that it felt almost excessively rustic. Her voice was clear and bright; when she spoke to you, she looked you directly in the eye with not even a trace of demureness.

A thoroughly country girl, Chen Hui decided.

Gu Qiao called out to him with warm familiarity and didn’t notice that his response was somewhat perfunctory. Eight-tenths of her mind was occupied with thoughts of her father and her own future; the remaining two-tenths were devoted to maintaining basic courtesy. She thought to herself: this family had been perfectly content before she arrived; she shouldn’t be the one to bring a cloud over them.

Chen Qing, who was studying at the vocational tourism school, showed at least some curiosity toward Gu Qiao. She asked where Gu Qiao had gotten her haircut — she’d never seen that style before. When Gu Qiao explained that a barber had hacked it off with a single cut, Chen Qing’s interest promptly evaporated. Chen Qing was the most fashionable girl in the hutong, and her entire look was copied directly from Hong Kong and Taiwan films and television dramas.

On an ordinary evening, two ounces of sorghum liquor with the small yellow croakers would have put Uncle Chen in perfect contentment. Tonight, the same liquor tasted like nothing special. Listening to how Lou Deyu had been cheated out of his money and still hadn’t come home, Uncle Chen drank and sighed.

Gu Qiao was the one who ended up offering him reassurance: “Don’t worry. There’ll always be a way. A road appears before the mountain.”

Uncle Chen asked her: “If your father can’t be found, what are you going to do?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Gu Qiao answered: “I’ll stay here and find a job.”

Gu Qiao’s mother, in order to support the family, was now pedaling her sewing machine day and night without rest. On top of that, she had taken responsibility for the debts Lou Deyu had left behind. After the family moved into the earthen rooms, Gu Qiao’s mother had enlisted some respected village elders and gathered all the creditors together to sign new loan agreements — principal kept, interest cancelled. She pressed her own thumbprint onto each one, promising that if Lou Deyu could not repay, she would. The creditors, though heartbroken over the forfeited interest, understood the reality clearly enough: Lou Deyu had borrowed the money behind his family’s back and then disappeared, leaving behind a household of elderly and young women with nothing of value left to take. If the wife was willing to take on the debt, that was better than nothing. They agreed.

Before Gu Qiao had set off, her mother had told her: if there was no news of her father to be found at Uncle Chen’s, then come home. She hadn’t sat for the entrance exam this year, so she could repeat the year and take it next year. Her mother had said she would pawn everything and borrow money if needed, as long as Gu Qiao could keep studying. Gu Qiao thought to herself: there’s nothing left to pawn — what isn’t gone has already been taken. And as for borrowing, who would dare lend money to their family now? She thought all of this, but didn’t breathe a word. Her mother had only just recovered from her illness; there was no point adding to her worries. She decided to wait until she had found a job before telling her — saying anything now would only make her mother fret.

Chen Hui was somewhat taken aback. Gu Qiao seemed calmer at that moment than even his own father. She spoke as if it were all happening to someone else. Forgetting for a moment that he ought to keep his distance, he couldn’t stop himself from asking: “Are you really not going back to school? Isn’t it a waste to drop out now?”

Gu Qiao smiled. “If my grades were as good as yours, dropping out would genuinely be a waste. My grades are decent enough, but that’s mostly down to hard work — I don’t have any special gift for studying. I think my talent for business probably far exceeds my talent for books. In a way, this is giving me an opportunity. I’ll find a job first, save up some startup money over a couple of years.”

“What kind of job are you looking for?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I’ll look through the want ads in the newspaper.”

Uncle Chen spoke up: “You stay here for now. Don’t rush about the job — I’ll think of something for you.” In Uncle Chen’s view, private businesses didn’t count as proper employment. But Gu Qiao was a country girl with only a high school education and no connections; getting into a proper work unit wouldn’t be easy. He himself was just a driver — he had no useful strings to pull. Still, Lou Deyu’s good cigarettes and liquor from last year were still sitting in the cupboard. Uncle Chen resolved to swallow his pride and go ask someone a favor, to find Gu Qiao a respectable position somewhere. With the whole family to feed, and Gu Qiao’s mother supporting elderly and young while also paying down the debts — if Gu Qiao couldn’t earn a wage, they couldn’t keep going.

Chen Da Ma urged Gu Qiao to eat more. Gu Qiao hadn’t much appetite, but out of courtesy toward Chen Da Ma’s hospitality, she finished the noodles in her bowl. As soon as she was done, Chen Da Ma wanted to fill it again. Gu Qiao insisted she was full.

Chen Qing said: “She’s watching her figure, Mum. Eat too much and you’ll need to diet.”

Chen Da Ma gave a dismissive wave. “People have only just had enough to eat these past few years, and already you’re dieting! There’s no call for that in the countryside. You’re already thin as a reed — where is there to slim down? Qiao’er, have another bowl, treat this just like home, no need to be polite.”

That evening, Gu Qiao firmly claimed the dish-washing for herself. Chen Da Ma said, embarrassed: “You can’t have guests washing dishes.” But watching Gu Qiao wash them quickly and thoroughly, she said approvingly: “Good girl. I bet you’ve always helped your mother out at home.”

The truth was, before the creditors showed up, Gu Qiao’s grandmother and mother had never really made her do much housework at all. They had never gone to school themselves, and so they always regarded studying as an extremely exhausting undertaking. Gu Qiao was at the county high school, allowed home only once every three weeks. Every time she returned, her grandmother and mother felt she had been suffering terribly at school, and would always prepare good food to nourish her back to health — let alone ask her to do chores. It wasn’t until her mother fell ill after the creditors came that Gu Qiao began doing housework regularly. She was clumsy at first, but it seemed her body carried some innate diligence, and she took to it quickly. At the Chen household, she hadn’t volunteered to wash the dishes out of habit — it was because staying as a guest in someone’s home while doing absolutely nothing would have made her a freeloader. She didn’t think the Chen family was particularly happy to have her here. But in this city, where else could she go?

Lou Deyu used to say at home: it doesn’t matter where you are, city or countryside — money is what counts. If you have no money, what good does it do to live at the foot of the imperial city? All you’d do is watch others eat well and use fine things, and go green with envy.

But not everyone was like Lou Deyu, obsessing over getting rich until their eyes went bloodshot. Uncle Chen, for instance, was perfectly contented. The toilet was shared and located outside in the yard; bathing in winter meant a trip to the public bathhouse; in some ways it was less convenient than the home Gu Qiao’s family had once lived in. But Uncle Chen was satisfied, and felt he was living the best life a person could wish for.

That night, Gu Qiao was assigned to share a room with Chen Qing. A room it was called — in truth it was only half a room. For Chen Qing alone, it was just right; add another person, and it became cramped.

Chen Qing asked Gu Qiao: “Do you have any other relatives in the city?” If Gu Qiao had been a fashionable girl, the two of them might have talked about clothes, makeup, films, and novels together, and Chen Qing might have quite liked having her stay. But it was obvious, Chen Qing felt, that she and Gu Qiao would have nothing in common. Chen Qing was a compassionate person — she wept easily over stories in films and television dramas — and she genuinely sympathized with Gu Qiao’s situation. But the moment she thought about sharing half her space with Gu Qiao for any extended period, she felt a wave of irritation. A few days was fine; longer than that she couldn’t stand.

Gu Qiao hesitated a moment, then said: “I have a maternal cousin.”

Chen Qing immediately brightened: “Your cousin might have news about your father. He might even have visited her. Why don’t you go and check?”

Gu Qiao said nothing. Lou Deyu would absolutely not have gone to her cousin’s home.

Her cousin was the daughter of her grandmother’s younger brother. She had lost both parents as a child and had been taken in by Gu Qiao’s maternal grandparents. According to her grandmother, though the cousin and Gu Qiao’s mother were only cousins by blood, they had lived together like real sisters. The only time Gu Qiao could remember meeting her cousin was at their grandfather’s funeral; after that, the cousin had never returned to the hometown.

By now, Gu Qiao couldn’t even recall what her cousin looked like. Everything she knew about her had come secondhand from her parents. In her mother’s telling, the cousin was studious and ambitious. In Lou Deyu’s telling, the story was entirely different.

In Lou Deyu’s version, the cousin was cold and calculating. He and Gu Qiao’s mother had once traveled for ten or more hours by train, bringing half their household goods as wedding gifts, only to be seated in a corner at the wedding banquet. The cousin hadn’t even called him “brother-in-law” when she saw him. And the husband — some man who had been married twice before — was even more arrogant; he had given Lou Deyu nothing more than a faint nod. Behind his wife’s back, Lou Deyu always referred to this cousin’s husband, whose surname was Luo, as “the thrice-married old man.” He mentioned it so often that, even though Gu Qiao couldn’t remember her cousin’s face, she knew clearly that the husband had been married three times, was very old, and had already had one child from each of his two previous marriages, both by different mothers.

Gu Qiao’s mother would explain on the cousin’s behalf that it wasn’t easy for a country girl to establish herself in a big city. If the family back home couldn’t offer help, the least they could do was not come seeking favors. If you weren’t a little cold, a crowd of people would rush in to drain you dry. Lou Deyu would respond with a cold laugh: who could drain anything from her? She’s the one draining you. Who knows how she ended up getting close to that Zhou family — acts as though the Zhous are her real relatives. Now that she’s made something of herself, she knows to keep her distance from the likes of us. She’s not the little girl who used to trail behind you calling “Sister, Sister” when she had nothing to eat. Gu Qiao’s mother would say: why drag up the past? Isn’t living well now better than anything? If you feel looked down on, just don’t associate with her. That’s that.

Though Gu Qiao’s mother never said a bad word about the cousin, in Gu Qiao’s memory, her mother’s contact with this particular relative was even less than with distant neighbors in the village — they were hardly close at all. If they were truly close, her mother would certainly have told her to visit the cousin on this trip to the city.

Seeing that Gu Qiao wasn’t taking the bait, Chen Qing added: “Where does your cousin live? Is her place spacious? I’d actually like some company — it’s just that two of us in this room would be too tight.”

Lou Deyu had always said Gu Qiao didn’t take after him, and Gu Qiao thought so too. But that evening, as Gu Qiao washed her yellow blouse by the light of the moon, she was more like Lou Deyu than at any other moment in her life. In that moment, she desperately wanted to be a person with money.

She scrubbed the yellow blouse hard. It was her best piece of clothing. Tomorrow she planned to wear it to visit her cousin.

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