◎ Standing ◎

Gu Qiao was genuinely surprised to see Luo Peiyin there. She had mentioned to him that she was going to the English corner on Saturday when she told him about the Sunday supply run. At the time, Luo Peiyin hadn’t said a word about coming to the English corner himself.

She had called out in Chinese, but her next words to Luo Peiyin were in English. After all, this was the English corner — one had to follow local customs. She greeted him with strict adherence to the formal phrases from her high school English textbook.

She did not receive the textbook’s standard reply.

Luo Peiyin, hearing the greeting, glanced at Gu Qiao’s mouth with an expression that seemed to say “what’s gotten into you?” and then offered a very Chinese response, asking Gu Qiao in Mandarin, “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

Gu Qiao thought it over and slipped back into her most familiar language. “I have.”

The man had been on the verge of following Gu Qiao to ask for her contact information, but he was hesitating when Luo Peiyin’s gaze swept over him — a slow, deliberate look from head to foot — and the man instantly felt insulted. If the young man across from him had been shorter and had to look up to show his displeasure, the sting wouldn’t have been nearly so sharp. But this young man was taller than him, so to look at him required only a downward glance — a single sweep from top to bottom, as if surveying something worthless.

The man understood clearly that if he went to ask for the contact information now, the outcome would not be dignified. The young man was young and hot-blooded, without the restraint age brings — if things got ugly, he would be the one who came out worse. There were plenty of women in the world; no reason to invite unnecessary trouble over one foolish, unworldly girl.

Suppressing his irritation, the man acted as though he hadn’t seen Gu Qiao and walked past them quickly.

He had barely passed the two young people when he heard a sentence in English: a remark about putting away his cheap tricks, because only the most contemptible of people exploited information gaps to deceive young women.

The man’s footsteps faltered — but he quickly resumed his pace, as though the words had nothing to do with him.

Gu Qiao was still turning over what Luo Peiyin had just said in English when she heard him say to her in Mandarin, “In the future, when you’re talking to people, steer clear of slick operators like that.”

“I was talking to him about completely normal topics.” Though Gu Qiao did feel his final invitation to the dance hall had been somewhat oily, doing business in the future meant dealing with all sorts of people — as long as she kept her head, she’d be fine.

“That kind of smooth talker might make suggestive remarks in English you can’t even catch. Better to stick to people your own age.” Even if nothing actually happened, having that sort of old lecher get his kicks through words alone was disgusting enough. Luo Peiyin had heard that Xiao Jia often came to the English corner — he didn’t know why he hadn’t seen him tonight.

Gu Qiao knew Luo Peiyin had her best interests at heart and didn’t argue. He had come to the English corner without speaking any English — very likely he had come specifically to find her.

Zhou Zhining had been discussing the death of the painter Dalí and his love story, but gradually fell quiet. Chen Hui followed Zhou Zhining’s gaze and found Gu Qiao — and then beside her, Luo Peiyin. Shortly after, the two of them left the English corner together.

Chen Hui felt that his conversation with Zhou Zhining today had been fuller than usual. Even after leaving the English corner and switching from English back to Chinese, she had not brought up her “little Brother Luo.”

“There’s snow coming for most of the north tomorrow — put off the supply run. Go next week instead.”

“Snow tomorrow.” For reasons she couldn’t explain, what occupied Gu Qiao’s mind more than the news of tomorrow’s snow was the fact that Luo Peiyin had come specifically to tell her it was coming.

But she was afraid she was going to have to disappoint him. Gu Qiao had already decided in her heart, but when it came to saying the words out loud she hesitated for quite a while. “I still have to go tomorrow. I’ve already promised people I’d have the gloves for them by Monday.”

To put Luo Peiyin more at ease, Gu Qiao smiled and said, “Snow won’t affect the trains. And even if the vendors aren’t at the market, I know where else to find them. Cousin, don’t worry about me — I’ve made the trip once already, so this time I know my way around. I’ll come straight back after getting the goods. I’ve already bought my return ticket.”

Sunday morning, Gu Qiao had barely stepped out of her small room when she found Luo Peiyin already in the sitting room. She hadn’t even seen his face yet before she heard him say, “I’ll go to the station with you.”

Gu Qiao quickly refused. “Cousin, please don’t bother — I’ll just take the bus there myself. You really don’t need to see me off.” She had meant to tell him the evening before that she didn’t need to be walked to the station, that she was perfectly capable of taking the bus home on her own. But she’d been afraid that if he hadn’t already planned on it and she said something, he’d feel obligated to go and see her off. What she hadn’t expected was that he had already planned to see her off to the station.

“I’m not seeing you off. I’m going there myself.”

“Oh.” She felt a little embarrassed. Her refusal had probably seemed presumptuous. No wonder Luo Peiyin paid such attention to the weather forecast — he was heading out himself today.

Learning from last time, Gu Qiao decided to eat a proper breakfast and save herself from buying food along the way. She had originally planned to make herself tomato and egg noodles, but since Luo Peiyin didn’t eat tomatoes, she left the tomatoes out. She boiled noodles, steamed some taro, invited Luo Peiyin to eat with her, and set a roasted mandarin orange in front of him. “Cousin, try this — I bought oranges yesterday. Very sweet. If you like them, you can bring a few on the road. They’re filling and they quench thirst. I bought quite a lot.”

The oranges were ones Gu Qiao had bought on the way home the evening before. At the corner, she’d spotted a large truck piled with them, tried half of one, found it very sweet, and bought two large bags — one for her aunt’s family, one to keep for herself. When Lady Luo saw the oranges Gu Qiao had brought, she told her not to spend the money, saying they already had plenty at home. Gu Qiao smiled and said she wanted to treat her younger cousins — wasn’t it perfectly normal for an older cousin to buy snacks for the younger ones? She didn’t mention the older male cousin, subtly implying that younger female cousins weren’t quite obligated to buy snacks for older male ones.

The two rode the bus to the train station together, Luo Peiyin standing beside Gu Qiao. Her outfit was much the same as last time — a skirt layered over the loose trousers with many pockets, money tucked into a waist pouch and the trouser pockets, each pocket pinned shut with safety pins. But she was even more bundled up than before: last time she’d worn a coat over the trousers and skirt, this time a thick padded jacket, and her shoes were clunky and broad. Last time she had dressed up a little, wanting to look experienced, not yet knowing the ropes. But now she’d been around enough to know, and her purpose in dressing had condensed to two points: warmth, and anti-theft. By comparison, Luo Peiyin was neatly spare — a reversible down jacket over a T-shirt. With her professional eye, Gu Qiao wanted to ask him where he bought every item he wore, but she never did, not even once.

“Cousin, did you get a seat ticket or standing ticket?”

“Seat ticket.”

“Good.” Since she had a standing ticket and would be on her feet for a good while, Gu Qiao didn’t press the point with him.

“Which train are you on?”

After what seemed like quite a few seconds, she heard the answer: “Same one as you.” Gu Qiao missed the reluctance in his voice. Those four words turned her heart over. She looked out the window; the sky was heavy and dark, the look of a great snowfall gathering.

Gu Qiao sat firmly at the edge of the seat in her fat cotton shoes. She had bought them herself — warm and non-slip. That morning she’d deliberated between her small leather boots and the cotton shoes before finally choosing the latter. These shoes could handle not just a long stand on the train, but ice on the ground outside. Having pre-sold a good number of leather gloves through her office contacts, she’d been more generous with herself about clothing these past few days. If she wanted to sell goods, she had to try them herself first — how else would she know what was good? Stocking the wrong items was far costlier than buying a pair of shoes. She’d also made a new discovery about herself: she could serve as a walking advertisement.

She glanced at Luo Peiyin’s boots and rolled-up trouser cuffs, then at his standing posture. Then she looked more carefully at the footprints on his boots. More than one set.

Luo Peiyin was gazing out the window with his earphones in, listening to something. Standing there, he was very pleasant to look at — but on such a packed train, even good looks were wasted on the indifferent crowd. Gu Qiao felt Luo Peiyin had no experience standing on trains and didn’t know how to pace himself. Standing like that, he’d be exhausted before they even got off.

“Cousin, let’s switch — you sit for a bit.” He had earphones in, so she pulled gently on his overcoat sleeve in case he couldn’t hear.

“You sit. If I wanted to sit I’d say so.”

But another half hour passed and Luo Peiyin showed no sign of wanting to sit. Gu Qiao followed his gaze out the window. The sky had been overcast the entire journey; it looked as though a grey coat had been painted over the outside world, the bare trees of a northern winter stripped of everything worth looking at.

Gu Qiao’s ticket had been bought before Luo Peiyin’s, so she’d only managed a standing ticket. She had no idea how he’d gotten a seat ticket the night before. The moment he boarded, he had given her his seat, and he had been standing ever since.

Luo Peiyin had offered Gu Qiao his CD player, but Gu Qiao said she preferred the sound of human voices — she might pick up something useful from other people’s conversations.

The woman sitting next to Gu Qiao was middle-aged and dressed very flamboyantly — a fluffy outer coat that looked wonderfully warm, a vivid silk scarf, and a pair of golden dangling earrings. She studied the young couple beside her.

Gu Qiao took an orange from her bag and bumped it gently against Luo Peiyin’s hand.

He looked down to find Gu Qiao’s smiling face looking up at him. She pointed to her own ear. Luo Peiyin took off his earphones to hear what she had to say.

Gu Qiao peeled the orange, popped a segment into her own mouth, then held out the other half to Luo Peiyin. “Cousin, my back is aching from sitting — it’s quite uncomfortable. Let me stand for a bit. You come sit.”

—