◎ When I Am With You ◎

Xiao Jia’s grandmother was pleasantly surprised to see Luo Peiyin: “Xiao Luo, you’re back from Shanghai? Just the other day I was telling Xiao Jia’s uncle that we probably wouldn’t see you until after the New Year.” Last time Luo Peiyin had come to visit Xiao Jia, he had said he would likely still be in Shanghai by year’s end.

Xiao Jia’s grandmother was very fond of Luo Peiyin — for the same reason she was fond of Gu Qiao: because both of them had helped make sure her grandson wasn’t pushed around by people outside. Even when a grandchild was the one doing the pushing around, a grandmother would still feel it was her grandchild who was being wronged. Besides, Xiao Jia had truly been an honest, gentle child before his illness. She had even noticed that after Xiao Jia fell ill and recovered, he had developed a bit more shrewdness — not a wasted illness after all.

Gu Qiao realized that when Luo Peiyin had gone into the shopping center earlier, it wasn’t to buy a gift for Xiao Jia — he had already arranged for Zhao Yue to bring that. He had gone to the specialty foods section in the basement to buy “Shanghai delicacies” for Xiao Jia’s grandmother.

Xiao Jia’s grandmother, though she now spoke standard Mandarin, had grown up in Shanghai. Looking at the specialty items Luo Peiyin had brought, she said with a smile: “Look at this — coming all that way and still remembering to bring something for me. I’ve never seen such a thoughtful child.”

Luo Peiyin said nothing about having bought the “specialties” at the shopping center down the road.

The delight on Xiao Jia’s grandmother’s face was genuine. Making someone happy was a simple thing for her cousin — if he chose to. Gu Qiao didn’t feel he was lying, exactly — and it wasn’t as though the journey from the shopping center to here was trivial, and those packaged specialty items were the same no matter where they were purchased.

But she did take away one piece of information: her cousin’s return from Shanghai had not been planned. His coming to Xiao Jia’s home today had also not been planned. If he had decided to come, he would not have asked Zhao Yue to bring Xiao Jia’s gift for him. So — why had he come back so suddenly today?

Xiao Jia spent about half his time talking with Luo Peiyin. The gift Luo Peiyin had Zhao Yue deliver was actually a set of floppy disks containing software that Xiao Jia had been wanting, and the expression on Xiao Jia’s face when he received them surpassed anything the other gifts had produced.

Gu Qiao recalled that in the car earlier, she had briefly mentioned wanting to eventually go into the pager business with Xiao Jia — and Luo Peiyin had said it would be using great talent for a small task.

The “great talent” clearly referred to Xiao Jia, not to her. Luo Peiyin’s tone had been so blunt, so absolute, that it left no room even for debate.

For the first time, Gu Qiao detected arrogance in her cousin. She hadn’t felt it even when the gap between them was far wider — but this time, it struck her with unmistakable clarity. In truth, she didn’t feel that there was much of a gap between herself and Luo Peiyin now. She already had her own established business; he was still a student.

Hearing those words, she bristled. Text-display pagers had a very promising future ahead of them for the next several years — how was that “using talent for small tasks”? How was that business “small”? And even if the business were small — did that make her small too? She would show Luo Peiyin. She was absolutely not some “small talent.”

But that evening, she said nothing to Xiao Jia about the pager business.

During the cake cutting and birthday song, Luo Peiyin, surrounded by the chorus of voices, found his ears had already clearly separated Gu Qiao’s voice from everyone else’s.

At the dinner table, Xiao Jia’s grandmother kept offering Luo Peiyin dishes, urging him to try Auntie Liu’s tomato beef stew — it was made exceptionally well.

“He’s allergic to tomatoes — he can’t eat that.” Sometimes when Gu Qiao ate her beloved tomatoes, she would think of Luo Peiyin — think of how he was allergic to this and allergic to that, how difficult his life must be. She had once read in a newspaper about someone abroad dying from accidentally eating peanuts they were allergic to, and she had thought of her cousin. It was precisely the kind of person who would always ask, one dish at a time, whether she was allergic to anything before ordering at a restaurant. Because she remembered that he always used to ask whether she was allergic to anything, Gu Qiao found she couldn’t stay bothered by his “great talent for a small task” comment — perhaps after more than a year in America, his Chinese had deteriorated and he hadn’t chosen his words well. She forgave him in her heart.

Xiao Jia’s grandmother recalled that Luo Peiyin seemed to avoid tomatoes, and knowing that some allergies could be quite severe, she didn’t press further — only told him to eat whatever he liked.

Then she said to Gu Qiao: “You love tomatoes — eat plenty.”

“Thank you, Grandmother.” Whenever Gu Qiao came to Xiao Jia’s home, her favorite dish was always Auntie Liu’s tomato beef stew. But she abided by the principle of a polite guest and ate only what felt like her fair share. Seeing today that very few people were touching the dish, she ate a great deal of the tomatoes with enthusiastic appreciation.

After the birthday celebration ended, Zhao Yue asked Luo Peiyin whether he needed a ride home. He had borrowed his brother’s Mercedes for the evening.

But Luo Peiyin chose to take the yellow Dafa van instead.

Gu Qiao had not invited him. She thought Luo Peiyin would be better off taking Zhao Yue’s car.

Without any invitation, Luo Peiyin once again jumped automatically into the driver’s seat of the yellow Dafa van.

Gu Qiao very much wanted to remind her cousin that this was her car, and she should be the one driving it. Even if his skills were better than hers, she didn’t feel it was any improvement to sit in the passenger seat with her eyes closed in leisure. If he wanted to borrow her car to drive, he could drive as long as he liked. But when there were just the two of them in the car, why couldn’t he try, just once, to listen to her?

She thought Luo Peiyin would once again insist on sending her home first: “Cousin, go to your place first. I can drive myself home.”

She expected him to refuse — he didn’t like people saying no to him, and yet he frequently said no to her. If he said no this time, she was prepared to have a genuine conversation with him about it.

But this time, Luo Peiyin said “alright” without hesitation.

Luo Peiyin took a CD portable player from his coat pocket and handed it to Gu Qiao. Unlike the careful wrapping she had prepared for her gifts, Luo Peiyin had simply bought it and tossed the packaging box. He had seen the gift box Gu Qiao brought for Xiao Jia and thought she was probably someone who valued ceremony — she had even wrapped the lotus lantern she once gave him. He spent a few seconds wondering whether his approach was too sparse. But he didn’t change it.

“This is for you.”

“Didn’t you already give me a gift a few days ago?” Though in truth she didn’t particularly love the gold bracelet.

“That one didn’t count. I believe you think so too.” A disc was already loaded inside; Luo Peiyin pressed the power button. He had seen Gu Qiao’s worn-out cassette player at her home. Their relationship deserved an upgrade — and so did her cassette player.

The song that came through was one Gu Qiao knew intimately. It was the one she played every day in those two small rooms.

The CD contained four versions of “Tomorrow Will Be Better.” Luo Peiyin didn’t particularly care for the song — its unreasoned optimism struck him as almost childlike — but he knew Gu Qiao would love it.

This time, Luo Peiyin drove the car very smoothly — almost too slowly. Gu Qiao’s heartbeat, however, was far less steady than the speed of the car.

She didn’t think to say thank you until the song had played all the way through. He still remembered that she used to love listening to it.

“I’d rather hear you say you like it than hear thank you.”

“Thank you. I really like it.”

The yellow Dafa van came to a stop beneath the building where Luo Peiyin had once lived alone — he wasn’t going back to his father’s home.

Luo Peiyin looked at Gu Qiao steadily. He no longer reined in his gaze. When a person abandons the pretense of reasoned thinking and acts on instinct alone, this is the kind of look that emerges. More precisely, he wasn’t just looking at Gu Qiao — he had caught her with his eyes and would not let go.

Gu Qiao set aside the “thank you,” looked directly into Luo Peiyin’s eyes, and said: “I really like it.” She wasn’t good at evading people’s gazes; she met his directly.

“I think right now it’s not only this song you like. Tomorrow I’ll take you to pick out CDs together. I want to know you better — in every way.”

In that enclosed space, the two of them set aside words and simply looked at each other. Some things said aloud would sound foolish, but a pair of eyes, no matter what meaning they conveyed, would never make the other person feel silly — at least not the person receiving that gaze. In that sustained exchange of looks, Gu Qiao read the meaning in Luo Peiyin’s eyes. She did not look away; she kept her gaze on his. And in the looking, she realized that in their ordinary time together, he had kept this sharpness in his eyes concealed. Now he had laid it bare for her without disguise — he wanted her to understand what he meant.

Gu Qiao understood. Including all the questions that had been circling in her mind before. Including why he was here today, and not in Shanghai.

Her eyes made their decision before her mind could. She held his gaze, and the meaning was clear: *yes, I understand.*

Gu Qiao didn’t say *yes.* She didn’t feel that needed an answer. She went directly to telling Luo Peiyin what he needed to know about her.

“I’m not in the same position as before. Don’t treat me the way you used to — as though I were a child who can’t take care of herself.”

“I understand. Is there more?” He was willing to treat her as an adult.

“For most of my life before I met you, I was very happy. Not in the least bit to be pitied. Happiness isn’t only what you see in cartoons — I was happy before too.” Meeting Luo Peiyin had been only one facet of her life — the hardest stretch of it. But it was not the whole of her. She did not want Luo Peiyin to take that as her entirety.

She told Luo Peiyin about how happy she used to be. One of her greatest pleasures back home was the swing — she loved standing on it as it flew, then launching herself off into the distance. Her grandmother would stand nearby saying this child doesn’t know what fear is; every time the swing flew out it nearly gave her a heart attack. That joy was no less than riding a Ferris wheel at an amusement park from childhood — though being beside him was another matter entirely. When summer bloomed, she would decorate the swing with wildflowers, weaving floral crowns for herself and her younger sister to wear.

“I know.” She had always had the ability to find her own happiness.

Gu Qiao still hadn’t taken back her gaze. Her eyes blazed with inexhaustible curiosity. With her eyes she asked him: *Is there more I don’t yet know?* She wanted to know all of it now — including what a pair of eyes could not express. She was overwhelmed with an urgent desire to understand him. Everything — she wanted to know everything. He had ignited in her a curiosity unlike anything she had ever felt before.

“When are you happiest?”

Her gaze slid from his eyes to his nose — she very much liked his nose, though she didn’t linger — and finally came to rest on his lips. She wanted to understand him too, in more ways than one.

Luo Peiyin’s eyes moved close to hers: “When I am with you.”

It sounded, perhaps, like a ready-made line of sentiment. But held in the gaze of those eyes, Gu Qiao had no doubt that the words were true.