◎ Don’t Worry, I’m Here ◎

Luo Sijing had not expected her younger brother to call, and certainly not to ask her to help him lie. What Luo Peiyin told her was all true. He explained that Gu Qiao was doing some small business on the side while working, that she had gone to another city today to stock up on goods, and that he had come along out of curiosity to see the market. They had missed the return train, and the next one didn’t depart until the middle of the night. Gu Qiao was keeping the trip a secret from her aunt, and her aunt would be worried if she didn’t come home so late.

He had already worked out the lie so she wouldn’t have to. He suggested she tell the family that the two of them had run into each other at a bookshop, that she had invited Gu Qiao to dinner, and that as the snow grew heavier, she’d brought Gu Qiao home with her for the night.

Luo Sijing swallowed whatever other worries she had and told her brother only to stay safe — there had been a great deal of theft and robbery on trains and buses these past few years, and she urged Luo Peiyin to be careful.

“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

Luo Sijing knew, of course, that her brother’s reassurance wasn’t only about safety. She also trusted her brother — he wouldn’t go getting romantically involved with their stepmother’s relatives. If anything were to happen, their mother, Madam Liao, would go straight to their father and make a scene, and their Aunt Gu, wanting to keep her hands clean, would cut all ties with her niece. He was leaving to study abroad next year and had so many options — why entangle a girl who was working herself to the bone just to get by in a mess of endless complications? And yet — coming along to buy stock in a snowstorm, out of curiosity? That really wasn’t like him at all.

Luo Sijing had her doubts, but she promptly called Lady Luo all the same.

On the phone, she told Lady Luo: “I’ve been so bored at home these days, all by myself. It’s perfect that the younger cousin can come keep me company.”

Lady Luo knew that Luo Sijing’s husband had been away recently and that she was home with only the housekeeper for company. Still, if she wanted company, why seek out Gu Qiao — the two of them didn’t seem particularly close. It struck her as a little odd, but she had not the slightest doubt that her stepdaughter was telling the truth.

Xinji was a small station with only one return train per day, and its departure time didn’t line up with Gu Qiao’s schedule. So both legs of her journey passed through a larger station not far away. Whether it was going from the station to the wholesale market, or from the wholesale market back to the station, she had to take a stretch of long-distance bus.

The snowstorm had come at the worst possible time. The supplier she needed for gloves wasn’t at the market itself — by the time they tracked down the workshop, snow was already falling from the sky.

When Gu Qiao negotiated her purchase, she showed a practiced ease that seemed at odds with her age. Even the gloves on her hands were not her usual pigskin pair but a different pair bought elsewhere — she didn’t want anyone to think she was committed to only this one supplier. After a round of back-and-forth, both sides settled on a price. Luo Peiyin watched Gu Qiao take off her gloves, flip up her skirt to reveal the loose trousers underneath, and deftly unfasten each of the safety pins on the pockets, draw out the money, count it quickly once through, and hand it over.

The money she’d brought was now exchanged for a large bundle of gloves, which Luo Peiyin carried one-handed. Gu Qiao tried to take it herself, or at least share the weight, but he told her to just watch where she was walking. Gu Qiao laughed and argued back: “Cousin, the way you’re carrying that, it doesn’t look like it’s just gloves inside — more like some priceless antique. Anyone up to no good would get ideas. It’d look very different if I carried it.” He didn’t respond, but whether it was because Gu Qiao’s words had made him more alert, or because he’d been watchful all along, he kept Gu Qiao within his line of sight the entire time. She walked ahead as he asked, and though her usual pace was quick, thinking of Luo Peiyin behind her carrying that big bundle, she couldn’t help slowing down. But Luo Peiyin, from behind, told her to move as quickly as she could — he sounded quite pressed. The urgency caught Gu Qiao too, and she quickened her steps. The two of them maintained the same gap between them the whole way.

The snow was falling in a thick swirl. On the roadside, a chestnut vendor had not yet packed up. Thinking of how many detours Luo Peiyin had made for her and how hungry he must be by now, Gu Qiao told him to wait a moment and ran to buy chestnuts. She ran off like a gust of wind and came back like a gust of wind, cradling a paper bag of warm chestnuts.

“Cousin, eat some while they’re hot.”

“Let’s get to the bus stop.”

“Don’t rush — we’ll make it in time.”

But Luo Peiyin didn’t eat the chestnuts. He urged her to keep walking.

If the first bus on the return route hadn’t broken down and forced them to change vehicles, they would have had more than enough time to make their train.

Gu Qiao sat in the waiting room waiting for the train that ran in the middle of the night. While waiting, she fell into an unusual silence.

“Does your hand still hurt?”

“It stopped hurting ages ago.”

“Let me see.”

“It’s really fine — just a little scraped skin.”

Coming off the long-distance bus, Gu Qiao had been rushing toward the station and, hurrying making her clumsy, had slipped on the ground where the snow had been compacted by many passing feet into a slick surface. She went down completely, and the bag of chestnuts scattered across the floor along with her. But the train’s departure time was all she could think of — she braced her palms against the ground and scrambled back up immediately. Once on her feet, she went straight for the fallen chestnuts; if someone slipped on them, that would be bad.

If Luo Peiyin hadn’t stopped to look at her hand, if she’d run just a little faster, she might have squeezed herself onto the train at the very last second.

By the time they reached the ticket barriers, the train had just pulled away. Gu Qiao’s face crumpled. Her first thought was: when were they going to get home? Thinking this, she didn’t dare look at Luo Peiyin. He had been so determined to get back in time — and they’d missed it because of her.

Her mind kept turning. The most important thing was to get on the next train. As a gesture of apology, no matter how unreasonable the scalpers were, she had to get Luo Peiyin a seat ticket so he could rest… But then it came to her: all her money had gone into the gloves. After buying the chestnuts, she had only five yuan left. Five yuan was enough for two boxed meals on the train, enough for the bus home, but absolutely not enough for a scalper’s ticket.

Then she heard Luo Peiyin say to her: “Don’t worry. I’ve never seen snow at a train station before. We can go take a look in a bit.”

There were scalpers, but in weather like this, the earliest available train was still the one leaving in the middle of the night, and only with standing tickets. Luo Peiyin paid for the tickets.

“Cousin, I’ll pay you back when we get home.”

Luo Peiyin didn’t continue on that subject. He told Gu Qiao to wait where she was while he went to make a phone call.

Seeing the rare look of distress on Gu Qiao’s usually smiling face, Luo Peiyin said to her: “Don’t worry. Your aunt won’t find out.”

Knowing what that phone call was about made Gu Qiao feel even worse. She had long sensed that Luo Peiyin wasn’t the type to like troubling other people — even his own family. And someone who never wanted to impose on others, however polite they seemed, carried inside them a quiet dislike of being imposed upon in return. Like her aunt, he was willing to show goodwill toward her. But goodwill had its limits.

And she — not only had she put him in the position of waiting with her at the station until the middle of the night, but she had caused him to call someone specifically to lie on her behalf. In all likelihood, she had used up most of the goodwill Luo Peiyin had for her in the course of this single day.

Gu Qiao sat in the waiting room chair. She couldn’t spare a thought for the small scrape on her hand.

Luo Peiyin didn’t do as she said. He took Gu Qiao’s hand, drew out a white handkerchief, and wiped it clean — from the back of her hand to between her fingers, every trace of grime removed. Watching the white handkerchief slowly take on a grey smudge, Gu Qiao’s face went red with embarrassment, as though she were a dirty little child who hadn’t washed her hands. When Luo Peiyin moved to wipe the other hand, Gu Qiao said quickly, “Cousin, I’ll do it myself.”

She practically snatched the handkerchief from him and scrubbed at her other hand with a vigor that suggested she had a grudge against it.

Gu Qiao didn’t give the white handkerchief back to Luo Peiyin. “Cousin, I’ll return it after I wash it.”

“No need. I’ll wash it myself.”

But Gu Qiao didn’t listen. She tucked the dirty handkerchief into her own pocket.

By now the few chestnuts left in the paper bag had gone cold. Luo Peiyin picked one up, peeled it, and put it in his own mouth.

“These are quite good,” he said to Gu Qiao. “You stay here — I’ll go see if there’s anything to eat outside the station.”

“I’ll go!” He had already paid for the tickets — she couldn’t let him buy food as well. Fortunately, she still had a few yuan left.

“Let’s go together then.” Luo Peiyin gave Gu Qiao the umbrella. He pulled up the hood of his down jacket himself. But Gu Qiao refused to shelter only herself — she held the umbrella up high and tilted it toward Luo Peiyin’s side.

“Holding it like that does nothing.”

But Gu Qiao stubbornly held it that way. Snow fell and settled on her shoulders.

Even in such weather, vendors near the station had come out to do business. There were roasted sweet potatoes, steamed buns with vegetable filling, fried sunflower seeds, boiled peanuts in their shells…

Gu Qiao watched the snow fall thick and soft onto the ground, blanketing the world in white. The breath she exhaled was white too. She huffed warm air toward the vendor and ordered steamed vegetable buns, a roasted sweet potato, fried sunflower seeds, and boiled peanuts.

The snow came down heavier and heavier. Gu Qiao faced the window and watched it fall, feeding herself one steaming hot vegetable bun after another. The buns were very hot, so she took small bites. She glanced at Luo Peiyin — he was drinking hot water from a cup.

Though the snow raged outside, the two of them inside were perfectly warm. Gu Qiao invited Luo Peiyin to crack sunflower seeds with her.

“You crack them yourself.”

Gu Qiao guessed that perhaps his pride was at work — cracking sunflower seeds in public might feel beneath his image. She folded half a sheet of paper into a little box, cracked the seeds one by one, and placed the kernels inside. When the paper box was nearly full, she held it out to Luo Peiyin. “Cousin, here.”

“You’re very fast at shelling those.”

“I used to shell them for my grandmother all the time.” Her grandmother’s teeth weren’t good enough to crack sunflower seeds herself, so Gu Qiao would crack them and put the kernels out for her to eat.

Luo Peiyin smiled and ruffled Gu Qiao’s head gently. “I don’t actually like sunflower seeds. You eat them.” She really did treat him like an elder!

Gu Qiao, red-faced, began putting the kernels she had shelled one by one into her own mouth. She ate them slowly; if she’d been cracking them herself, she’d have been much faster.

Though it was the middle of the night, the train was no less crowded than usual — perhaps because they were standing, it even seemed more packed than the journey there. The two of them stood in the space between carriages. Luo Peiyin’s arm came around Gu Qiao’s shoulder, carving out a small pocket of space for her. Every so often their legs bumped together, sending small ripples through Gu Qiao’s heart. Her trouser pockets were empty now — all the money gone — and in that emptiness, her mind had room to wander.

Gu Qiao did her best to push away the small, strange feeling stirring inside her. Being pressed against people on a train was perfectly ordinary — being pressed against Luo Peiyin was no different from being pressed against anyone else.

“Cousin, is the snow getting heavier outside?” The window was blocked by people; she could see nothing but bodies.

“Perhaps. If you’re sleepy, close your eyes for a bit. Don’t worry — I’m here.”