◎ Cousin, the Congee’s Going Cold ◎

“Cousin!”

Gu Qiao finally saw Luo Peiyin at ten past nine — but she did not see her Huangdafa van.

Gu Qiao’s flashlight beam swept across Luo Peiyin’s face, traveling from his brows and eyes down to his mouth, then shifted to the handlebars — he wasn’t wearing gloves. In cold like this, cycling without gloves meant he had left in such a hurry he’d forgotten them.

Luo Peiyin had come on a bicycle. He had originally intended to replace the windshield on Gu Qiao’s van and give it a general check-up while he was at it. Going by feel alone, he could tell the vehicle was not only quite old but had been working nearly every day since the day it came off the production line — probably not far off from the 1987 mandatory retirement threshold of 550,000 kilometers. And indeed, the moment Gu Qiao’s van reached the repair shop, a whole catalogue of problems was found. It wouldn’t have been a waste to scrap it outright. But Luo Peiyin guessed Gu Qiao would never be willing to let her van go, so he had them work through the repairs one by one instead.

Seeing the person arrive without the vehicle, Gu Qiao immediately guessed Luo Peiyin had gotten into an accident with her van — and not a minor one.

Before Luo Peiyin could say a word, Gu Qiao, afraid he would feel bad, quickly smiled and said: “As long as you’re alright! The van is just a material thing — don’t take it to heart!” The first part was her genuine feeling.

In the beam of the flashlight, Gu Qiao saw a trace of something in Luo Peiyin’s eyes — something like distress. For someone like him, who kept his emotions off his face, what showed on his face in small measure was probably tenfold within.

“It’s fine, Cousin! I only paid three thousand five hundred for this van — it’s given me plenty of trouble even in ordinary times. Even if it’s really gone, I’m not that heartbroken over it.” Three thousand five hundred yuan was no small sum for her, but she suspected Luo Peiyin had probably overestimated the van’s value. She was sad about it, but if it was truly gone she could accept it — at worst she would ride a tricycle for now. As long as she was alright, what couldn’t she earn back?

The Huangdafa van Gu Qiao had paid three thousand five hundred yuan for — nowadays a new minivan cost nearly thirty thousand. What kind of vehicle could three thousand five hundred yuan buy was not hard to imagine. What Gu Qiao had purchased was one of the first Huangdafa vans ever produced. When they first came off the line, domestically-made parts made up less than ten percent of the whole vehicle; by now they were largely domestically-produced. Her Huangdafa could be said to have witnessed history — rolling off the very first production line, then passing through the hands of more than two taxi drivers before finally reaching Gu Qiao.

Luo Peiyin heard the implication beneath Gu Qiao’s words. She thought he had crashed her van and, afraid he would feel terrible, was proactively telling him she didn’t care. Two people from different walks of life can rarely truly share each other’s feelings — he couldn’t comprehend how dearly Gu Qiao treasured money, how much it meant to her. But in that moment, he thought of the image of Gu Qiao counting money. If the van were truly gone, it would transform into concrete, tangible bills, piling up on her heart. And yet she said it lightly — told him not to take it to heart.

“What did you imagine happened? The van has a few minor issues — it’ll be fixed by tomorrow. It won’t cost much.”

The relief on Gu Qiao’s face was plain to see, and her eyes immediately brightened: “I knew it couldn’t be anything serious.”

Gu Qiao followed up: “If it’s nothing serious, why did you rush here like this?”

“Didn’t we agree to meet at nine? You’d been waiting.”

“I hadn’t been waiting long at all — watching the sky while waiting isn’t so bad.” If it were anyone else she might genuinely have found it interesting, but waiting for Luo Peiyin, she hadn’t found one moment of it interesting. She knew him — if there weren’t something urgent, he wouldn’t have let her wait.

“You rode all the way here just to tell me about the van? You could have paged me — there’s a phone nearby, you could have just called.”

If he had paged her, she would have been even more anxious. He didn’t understand Gu Qiao fully — but the parts of her he did understand made his heart ache for her.

Gu Qiao’s eyes fixed on Luo Peiyin’s hands: “The gloves I gave you today — did you rush out and forget to put them on?”

Luo Peiyin pulled two gloves from his pocket: “I brought them.”

He had brought them — he had simply forgotten to put them on.

Luo Peiyin pressed his palm to Gu Qiao’s forehead: “Not too cold, are you.”

He took a slip of paper from his coat pocket and held it for her to take: “Tomorrow go to this address to pick up the van. I’ve already paid the repair fee.”

As she took the paper, Gu Qiao’s fingers accidentally grazed the back of his hand. It was ice cold.

His palm and the back of his hand were two entirely different temperatures. He had been gripping the handlebars the whole time, pedaling at top speed to get here — he hadn’t even noticed the north wind cutting across the backs of his hands.

He very much wanted Gu Qiao to feel his warmth — including the part of his hands that had been scraped raw by the winter wind. But she must have had many moments of cold to endure this winter already, and he had no need to add to that count for her.

“Cousin, leave the bicycle in the courtyard and come inside for something hot to drink before you go.”

This was the first time she had ever invited Luo Peiyin into her home.

“Why is that cabinet blocking the doorway?”

“It’s to brace the door shut.”

Luo Peiyin took in the entirety of the room in less than ten seconds.

“Cousin, do you think I’ve done a decent job decorating?” Gu Qiao was rather pleased with it herself — she had recently replaced the furniture. When the weather warmed up and her family came to visit, they would walk into this room and not think she was living poorly. Every evening she curled up on the ninety-yuan brocade-upholstered single armchair counting her money, each banknote bathed in the soft light of the floor lamp beside her, glowing like old friends. The single bed was left behind by the previous tenant. When Chen Qing’s hotel was selling off old furniture there had been beds available too, but Gu Qiao hadn’t bought one. A one-point-eight-meter bed was not only expensive — it would take up too much of her small room.

“It’s quite nice.” But then Luo Peiyin added: “My sister’s apartment is still empty — the room I used to live in. You could stay there for now. It has heating. Everyone there is connected to the university, so it’s safer, and the neighbors are all faculty and staff.”

Perhaps worried Gu Qiao might feel like she was imposing, Luo Peiyin added: “The place would only be sitting empty otherwise — you moving in would actually be doing me a favor by keeping an eye on it.”

Gu Qiao could see that Luo Peiyin was dissatisfied with her current place — he thought she should be living somewhere better. She never doubted she would eventually live somewhere better, but everything happened in its own time.

“This is convenient — right out the door is the trade market and the embassy district. It’s not unsafe either; the brace on the door is just for that one-in-ten-thousand chance. The neighbors in this courtyard are all wonderful — sometimes when they’ve steamed baozi, they even share some with me.”

Luo Peiyin inspected everything from the chimney to the door locks and window latches, and even looked at the coal she had stored for burning.

Gu Qiao discovered that her cousin actually had a great deal of practical life experience — quite unlike the impression she had formed of him when they first met of someone whose hands had never touched common drudgery.

“Don’t worry, I’ve checked everything myself.” She had checked more than once. Being alone out here, she was very much afraid something might happen to her.

Once more, she received from Luo Peiyin a clear signal of his unease about her living situation: “I won’t be staying in this place forever. Before long I’ll move somewhere with heating and a proper hot shower — and when I do, I’ll… I’ll invite you over for a housewarming.”

The stove stood in the center of the room, the small pot bubbling and gurgling on top of it, the fragrance of congee slowly filling the air. The Laba Festival had just passed, but she still had some of the Laba mixed-grain rice. Gu Qiao had cooked a small pot of congee — if Luo Peiyin hadn’t come, she would have made it earlier. But thinking that he would probably have missed Laba congee while in America, she thought: if he came, it could serve as a late-night snack. So she had pushed her own dinner back as well.

“Cousin, would you like some Laba congee?” Without waiting for him to answer, she added: “Have some — it’ll warm you up.”

She had no dining table. She usually used the small tea table beside the armchair or her writing desk as a table instead. Her household goods were sparse. She took out a small bowl, ladled in a small amount of congee, and set it on the tea table.

“Cousin, sit on the sofa and drink it there.”

Gu Qiao gave up the sofa and tea table to Luo Peiyin and carried her own bowl to the writing desk.

“You haven’t had dinner yet?”

“Eating now isn’t late.” She picked up the hot water bottle she had been holding earlier. “Cousin, hold this — you’ll feel warmer.”

“Don’t you think I’d look rather ridiculous hugging a hot water bottle?”

Gu Qiao ran the image through her mind, and nearly let out a laugh. She swallowed it back and only said: “Don’t worry, Cousin — I won’t laugh at you. And besides me, no one else can see you.”

Luo Peiyin didn’t take the hot water bottle, and didn’t follow Gu Qiao’s arrangement of sitting on the sofa — instead he walked over to the writing desk.

On the writing desk sat the small collection of skincare products Gu Qiao used. She picked up a tin of hand cream and handed it to Luo Peiyin: “Cousin, put this on. I use it every winter — it’s inexpensive but works well. My hands haven’t cracked or chapped once.”

Luo Peiyin didn’t take the hand cream. His attention had landed on the Walkman sitting on the desk. The cassette tape beside it was still the one Luo Peiyin had given her.

Gu Qiao had learned the price of this gift later, and though she knew it was expensive, she hadn’t imagined it would be quite so much. But it was worth every yuan — she used it every single day. “Tomorrow Will Be Better” had long since become as familiar to her as breathing.

Luo Peiyin looked at the Walkman on the writing desk. It didn’t seem so long ago that she had sung for him.

“Do you listen to it often?”

Gu Qiao nodded. Not just often — every single day.

Luo Peiyin took Gu Qiao’s hand and looked at it. His fingers found the calluses on her palm. He was no stranger to calluses — his fingers had developed them in childhood from years of piano practice. But it hadn’t felt like suffering to him, and the reason he stopped playing later had nothing to do with hardship.

He took her hand and held it this way, looking at it — Gu Qiao hadn’t expected this. Her mind went a little blank, but she had no thought of pulling her hand away.

Her hand looked small against Luo Peiyin’s. She was suddenly reminded of an old saying she’d heard once: “Small hands grasp gold; large hands grasp sand.” Gu Qiao made a point of only believing things that worked in her favor — she had never believed this saying before. But just now, she couldn’t help thinking of it.

Large hands grasping sand didn’t matter — she could just take his hand in hers and turn it all to gold. But she didn’t reach out her own hand. Instead she quietly withdrew the one he was holding.

She turned away and stopped looking at him, then combed the loose hair at the back of her head forward. When she had settled her feelings enough, she turned back — and found him watching her.

Gu Qiao felt as though Luo Peiyin’s eyes had grown teeth, as though they might take a bite out of her. She heard her own heartbeat, and felt her ears and face grow warmer than before.

“Cousin, drink the congee quickly — it’ll go cold.”

Gu Qiao was caught off guard and pulled into Luo Peiyin’s arms. His warmth reached her, and her ears filled with the sound of her own heartbeat. She didn’t try to define what kind of feeling this was. On a night this cold, being held like this made her feel incredibly warm. Gradually her heartbeat returned to normal, and in the long embrace a kind of peace and stillness settled over her. She suddenly wanted to tell him all the things from these past two years that hadn’t gone so smoothly — things she couldn’t tell her mother for fear of worrying her, and couldn’t tell anyone else without it feeling like admitting weakness. So she had kept them inside, for a very long time.

But she thought perhaps Luo Peiyin also had many things he hadn’t said that he might want to say to her.

She didn’t speak of her own affairs. Instead she asked him: “Cousin, if there’s anything weighing on you, you can tell me. Just saying it out loud helps.”

And like her mother used to do when she held her, Gu Qiao reached around and patted Luo Peiyin gently on the back: “Everything will keep getting better.”

She felt him tremble slightly, but he didn’t speak of anything that troubled him.

The embrace went on for a long time — long enough that Gu Qiao began to wonder whether her congee had gone cold.

She had to remind him again: “Cousin, the congee’s going cold.”

Luo Peiyin finally let her go. He tucked the loose strands of hair back behind her ear, and said to her: “Don’t worry — the van will be ready by tomorrow afternoon. Just go directly there to pick it up.”

Luo Peiyin drank Gu Qiao’s congee, and then washed the bowls — both of them, his and hers.

Gu Qiao moved to walk him out, but Luo Peiyin stopped her: “If you walk me out any further, your hot water bottle will go cold. Go rest. We’ll see each other again before the New Year. My pager number is still the same as before.”

After Luo Peiyin left, the velvet curtains shut the night out beyond the windows. Gu Qiao sat on the sofa with her arms wrapped around herself, as though she were still being held.

After all, they would see each other again before the New Year.