◎ Welcome to 1990 ◎

The first day of 1990 began amid fireworks. The area where they lived was a no-fireworks zone, but Luo the Fourth wanted to set some off anyway. Luo Peiyin drove his younger siblings to the designated fireworks area to let them off. Gu Qiao was counted among these younger siblings and went along with the group.

The fireworks had been bought by Luo Peiyin, but most of them were set off by Gu Qiao. Back home, she had always been the eldest sister, leading her younger sisters in setting off firecrackers and fireworks. Lou Deyu was also the type who loved showing off, and nothing in the village served that purpose better than New Year’s fireworks. Gu Qiao was well-practiced at setting off fireworks, and in an instant, a riot of colors took vivid shape in the sky. Every hue assaulted her eyes, but when the fireworks exploded overhead in a cascade of brilliant colors, she stole a glance at Luo Peiyin, who wore not a single splash of color on his person.

Luo the Fourth envied his cousin-sister greatly for being allowed to set off firework after firework, and made a fuss about wanting to do the same. However, since Mrs. Luo had given prior instructions, for safety’s sake Luo the Fourth could only watch — he was not permitted to set anything off himself. No one was willing to bear the consequences of letting him handle fireworks, so Luo the Fourth was granted only the right to watch.

Luo the Fourth was not very happy about this. The opportunity he had fought so hard to secure had ultimately only brought joy to his cousin-sister — not that he minded that much, since she was his cousin-sister after all. But her gratitude seemed directed entirely at Second Brother, with absolutely none of it sparing a glance for him. And when he saw that Luo the Third had also received a pair of gloves from their cousin-sister as a gift, he felt even more aggrieved — he had always assumed he held a special place in her heart.

Luo the Fourth asked Luo Peiyin: “Second Brother, what New Year’s gift did Cousin-Sister give you?”

Luo the Third gave a disdainful snort: “When will you ever lose this particular obsession of yours? If she gave everyone the same gift, you’d feel overlooked. If she gave different gifts, you’d start comparing, wondering if yours was the best. When will you ever figure out that the world does not revolve around you? It’s not like anyone finds you especially lovable — how did you manage to develop such an insufferable habit?”

She then turned to Luo Peiyin: “Second Brother, don’t tell him!”

Luo the Fourth was furious: “You’re so long-winded! What’s it even got to do with you! I’m more lovable than you anyway! No one could ever like such a sharp-tongued witch as you!”

He had originally wanted to say “old hag,” but felt that Third Sister was nowhere near old enough for that word.

“I don’t need everyone to like me. But unlike you, if someone doesn’t like me, I can tell — whereas if someone can’t stand you, you haven’t the faintest clue. People are sick to death of you, yet you probably think you’re wildly popular.”

Luo the Fourth was furious but could not think of a comeback. Gu Qiao broke the standoff by abruptly delivering a round of auspicious New Year’s wishes to everyone in the car, blessing each person heartily in turn.

Upon receiving his blessing, Luo the Fourth began offering his own wishes back to Cousin-Sister. Encouraged by Gu Qiao, Luo the Fourth turned to Third Sister and said, begrudgingly: “Third Sister, Happy New Year!”

Luo the Third offered her younger brother a blessing in return: “May you be loved by all in the new year!”

Luo the Fourth did not catch the teasing in his Third Sister’s words and returned the same blessing in kind: “May you also be loved by all!”

—

At nine o’clock in the morning, Gu Qiao and Xiao Jia met as arranged at the entrance of the art gallery.

Xiao Jia had only just learned from Zhao Yue that Gu Qiao was Luo Peiyin’s cousin-sister, currently staying at the Luo household, and was still somewhat surprised. Thinking it over afterward, he could only feel that the connections between people were truly remarkable.

The moment Xiao Jia saw Gu Qiao, he mentioned that he and Luo Peiyin were friends — the world was both large and small, and who would have thought that Gu Qiao turned out to be his friend’s cousin-sister.

Gu Qiao didn’t ask Xiao Jia how he had accidentally exposed her identity to Luo Peiyin the day before. Xiao Jia had probably let her name slip without even realizing it — otherwise Luo Peiyin would never have known she had taken a train in the early hours of the morning to go and purchase goods.

“About my street stall,” Gu Qiao added, “please don’t mention anything about me to anyone else anymore, all right?” Besides Luo Peiyin, Xiao Jia likely knew other members of the Luo family as well.

“I’m sorry — did I cause you some trouble?” Though Xiao Jia didn’t know why she was saying this, he guessed that his having mentioned her had created problems for her.

“Not exactly. It’s just that apart from my Cousin-Brother, no one else at home knows I’m running a stall. They all think I only have my one job in the General Affairs department.”

“You still have a job in the General Affairs department?”

Gu Qiao realized that Luo Peiyin truly kept his lips tightly sealed — he had never voluntarily shared any information about her with anyone. Drawing on what she knew, Gu Qiao carefully extracted the portions Xiao Jia could be told, because she harbored no expectations that Xiao Jia would be good at keeping secrets, and so she had drawn a strict line between what could and could not be said.

“You’re really capable!”

Gu Qiao greatly appreciated this way of thinking on Xiao Jia’s part — he saw her as capable, rather than pitiable.

Because she had borrowed five hundred and fifty yuan from Xiao Jia, and to thank him for his help without a moment’s hesitation, she had brought him a pair of gloves this time as well.

“There’s no need to be so polite.”

“It’s a New Year’s gift for you.”

Xiao Jia was quite embarrassed — the day before, he had been busy helping one of his father’s friends decode some software, and had completely forgotten to buy a New Year’s gift. That work was of course unpaid. Had Zhao Yue found out, he would surely have called him a fool for letting people take advantage of him for free. Xiao Jia, however, regarded such work as a way of understanding the world through practice, and didn’t feel he had been shortchanged. Apart from Luo Peiyin, who had previously asked him to help with two small tasks and absolutely insisted on paying him, no one had ever proactively offered him money. Even when Luo Peiyin had pressed the money on him, Xiao Jia had at first refused — he felt it was only natural for friends to help each other, and besides, Luo Peiyin had helped him no small amount in return. Programming books on the market were not only outdated but full of errors and omissions, and Luo Peiyin had given him quite a few English-language programming materials, which had been enormously useful to him.

But Luo Peiyin had insisted on giving him the money nonetheless. He told Xiao Jia that if he hadn’t gained any economic benefit from the help, it could be considered mutual assistance between friends — but if he had profited from it, then it was a form of economic transaction, and the compensation should be shared at market rate. He told Xiao Jia that if someone profited from another’s labor, they ought to provide remuneration equivalent to the market price. Xiao Jia found himself in agreement. But figuring out whether people had actually used his work to make money was an enormously difficult undertaking for him. At first he had tried asking friends, but even after asking, he found he simply couldn’t discuss money as matter-of-factly as they could. In the end, he simply chose not to worry about it.

“But I forgot to bring a gift for you.”

“A blessing is also a wonderful gift. Give the person standing before you the best blessing you can think of.”

Even after several rounds of polite refusal from Xiao Jia, Gu Qiao still insisted on returning the five hundred and fifty yuan to him.

The two of them strolled through the art gallery. Xiao Jia had no curiosity whatsoever for the classical art of earlier periods, nor for today’s postmodern abstract paintings and graffiti. He disliked everything elaborate and complex, and had a particular fondness for the minimalist. The pieces on display at the gallery that appealed to him were few. Compared to the oil paintings hanging on the walls and the sculptures arranged throughout the space, he was far more interested in industrial design. He told Gu Qiao that he found the so-called European-style Baroque décor now fashionable in Chinese restaurants utterly tiresome — nothing but elaborate paintings and columns everywhere, that was their idea of a “foreign feel.”

Xiao Jia felt that Luo Peiyin understood him better on this point, since he too found the current restaurant décor trend deeply off-putting — this blind pursuit of a foreign aesthetic that, in the eyes of those people, amounted to nothing but an abundance of ornate paintings and columns scattered everywhere. Zhao Yue, on the other hand, quite enjoyed it. Zhao Yue’s brother had recently acquired a new home and wanted it decorated in the Baroque style, and had invited Luo Peiyin’s other friend — a penniless painter who was passionate about classical realism and worshipped Rubens — to undertake the murals and ceiling decoration. The penniless painter, upon being invited to paint ceilings for a nouveau riche client, felt profoundly insulted and angrily declined. Zhao Yue, rejected, also felt insulted — there were plenty of people eager to earn money; had it not been for Luo Peiyin’s sake, he would never have brought this commission to him, so who was he to put on such airs? Zhao Yue was generally easygoing, and most things dissolved into a joke around him, but this time he couldn’t hold back, and he mocked Luo Peiyin to his face, saying that buying that painter’s work was a complete investment failure — he might as well have gone straight to buy a reproduction of a Rubens. Luo Peiyin didn’t bother responding.

Hearing the name Rubens, Gu Qiao recalled what Bai Ling had once said to her. The only time she had ever heard the name Rubens was from Bai Ling’s lips — Bai Ling had said she looked like the girls in Rubens’ paintings, though Gu Qiao had never actually seen a Rubens painting to this day.

“I don’t think Luo-Brother particularly likes Rubens — he has absolutely no interest in the Baroque style. As for buying the painter’s work, it wasn’t about investment at all. He was purely sympathetic. The painting wasn’t something Luo-Brother bought on his own initiative.” Xiao Jia had witnessed the whole scene, and noticing that Gu Qiao seemed genuinely interested in hearing more, he continued: “The painter came to find Luo-Brother last winter carrying one of his paintings, saying he wanted to borrow two hundred yuan from him and was offering the painting as collateral. Luo-Brother probably genuinely felt sorry for him, so he ended up just buying the painting.”

The painter’s work wasn’t selling, and he refused to seek other ways of earning a living — he felt that decorating for wealthy clients or painting fans for craft shops was beneath him. He spent his days painting in the rented village house he called home. The villages around the Old Summer Palace were all farmer-built housing, with no public toilets and no shower facilities, and in winter one had to go to a public bathhouse to bathe. When the painter came to see Luo Peiyin, he probably couldn’t even afford the bathhouse, and his rent was very likely unpaid. While long hair might technically be part of the artistic young man’s image, Xiao Jia suspected that the painter’s long ponytail that day may well have been because he had no money to get a haircut.

Xiao Jia, also out of sympathy, had prepared to spend some of his modest pocket money to buy a small piece — a sketch or draft — from the painter, but was met with several contemptuous looks from the man.

Xiao Jia was different from Zhao Yue in that he did not place the blame on the penniless painter, but instead reflected on himself: “In some people’s eyes, sympathy means condescension. He was probably thinking — what right do I have to pity him? In this respect, Luo-Brother handles things better than I do. The painter accepted his help with a clear conscience, without any damage to his self-respect.”

Gu Qiao remained silent throughout, until she noticed Xiao Jia looking at her and felt she ought to say something.

“Cousin-Brother is really good to people.”

Xiao Jia agreed: “Luo-Brother has also supported two financially struggling classmates in our department.” Zhao Yue interpreted this as a form of early-stage investment. Xiao Jia disagreed, and Zhao Yue laughed, saying that if it were purely out of sympathy, then the impoverished young people in mountainous regions who couldn’t afford university would be far more deserving of that sympathy — how come he’d never seen Luo-Brother spreading that compassion their way? Zhao Yue had always maintained that only people from roughly similar backgrounds had the conditions for genuine friendship; otherwise, even a drinking-and-dining acquaintance was a stretch. Of course, the title of “friend” could be bestowed on many people, and Zhao Yue was the kind of person who had “friends” everywhere. Xiao Jia couldn’t find a rebuttal at the time, but he felt Zhao Yue’s view was far too calculating. In his heart, friendship transcended differing viewpoints, and he believed his friends felt the same. Even though Xiao Jia disagreed with many of Zhao Yue’s views, it never diminished their friendship.

When they came out of the art gallery, Xiao Jia insisted on walking Gu Qiao home. Gu Qiao didn’t decline this time — Xiao Jia was Luo Peiyin’s friend, and quite possibly a friend of other Luo family members as well. There was a chance he wanted to visit his friend.

“Hello, Auntie Gu.”

“Peiyin isn’t home right now — please wait in the sitting room. What would you like to drink?” Mrs. Luo assumed Xiao Jia had come to see Luo Peiyin. She had met Xiao Jia before at the house and had a general sense of his family background.

“I’m not here to see Luo-Brother. I was just walking Gu Qiao home — I’ll be on my way now. Please don’t trouble yourself.”

With Gu Qiao’s instructions fresh in his mind, Xiao Jia was more careful this time. Beyond the mention of their first meeting and their encounter at the English Corner — which were true — everything else he kept to himself.

Mrs. Luo had a favorable impression of Xiao Jia and politely invited him to stay for a meal. Xiao Jia declined the kind gesture — he still had important things to attend to.

Xiao Jia appeared at the Luo household again at five o’clock that afternoon. He had combined the five hundred and fifty yuan Gu Qiao had returned to him with forty yuan from his own pocket and exchanged it for a wristwatch.

Luo the Fourth opened the door for Xiao Jia. Xiao Jia was acquainted with the Luo family, and the moment Luo the Fourth saw him, he called out toward the sitting room: “Second Brother, Xiao Jia-Brother is here!”

At this hour, almost the entire Luo family was in the sitting room. It was New Year’s Day evening, and they were all gathering for a meal. Gu Qiao was in the kitchen helping Zhang-Sister with preparations, just about to start making a fish ball soup. No one had asked her to — but Gu Qiao felt that compared to forcing herself into the middle of someone else’s family gathering, she was far more at ease in the kitchen.

—