◎ Meet at Five ◎

After Gu Qiao went into the bedroom, she didn’t lock the door. This was her first time here in two years, and just as two years ago, there wasn’t a single photograph of Luo Peiyin in the room.

She had never had a single photograph of him. Over these two years, when she missed him, she would sometimes regret not asking for a copy of the photo she had taken of him at the Summer Palace. This time, before he left, she was absolutely going to take as many photos of him as she could. Otherwise, there was nothing to look at when missing someone — that was far too bleak.

Gu Qiao heard the front door open. Before that sound, she had been calculating how much time she would have with Luo Peiyin. Besides being unable to leave her stall before the New Year, there were other things waiting for her. She still needed to go to the Chen family’s — Chen Qing worked as a receptionist at a hotel, and she had mentioned that most of the guests there were foreigners, some of whom rented rooms on a longer-term basis and would hang a sign on their door advertising their products, naturally drawing foreign buyers to come and make connections. She wanted to ask how many foreigners had been checking in lately, especially Eastern Europeans.

Luo Peiyin was a man of his word — if he said he’d be back in an hour, he’d be back in exactly an hour, not a minute early.

Gu Qiao heard the door and immediately jumped off the bed, walked barefoot to the door — she had even forgotten to put on her slippers. The slippers she had been wearing were his, and in this home there were only his slippers — his feet were much bigger than hers. Gu Qiao opened a crack from inside the door, poked her head out, and hid the rest of herself — wearing his ill-fitting bathrobe — behind the door. Gu Qiao’s face had just been flushed with hot water and was still rosy.

She spoke to Luo Peiyin: “Do you remember when we went to the Summer Palace to see the osmanthus blossoms, and I took a photo of you? Could you show me that photo?” She remembered it very clearly — that autumn, Luo Peiyin had taken many photos of her, and she was smiling in almost every single one. She felt she had taken up too much of his time, so of course she had wanted to take some of him too, but he had declined. She had only managed to snap one candid shot of him, with Kunming Lake as the backdrop. Gu Qiao had originally intended to go to the photo studio to have it developed, but Luo Peiyin said he could develop it himself.

In fact, Luo Peiyin had never developed the photo in a darkroom — it was far too troublesome, and he hadn’t been in the mood for it at the time. He had simply taken it to a photo studio to be developed. He hadn’t developed his own photo either — all the finished prints he had given to Gu Qiao, though he had kept the negatives.

“I didn’t develop that photo.”

“Oh.” He had developed individual prints for every single colleague in the group photo, yet his own he hadn’t. Gu Qiao couldn’t guess why — perhaps he was unsatisfied with her photography skills? Never mind, she would take more this time, and then there would be plenty to choose from.

“Tomorrow evening, shall we go to the Summer Palace? I’d like to take a photo of you. I don’t have a single photo of you.”

“Sure.”

“Your kitchen has nothing in it at all,” — and there was nowhere to buy anything at this hour — “let’s make do with something simple tomorrow morning. Then we’ll go to the market and buy some groceries, and in the evening come to my place — I’ll make you something delicious.”

“Alright.”

“Your taste hasn’t changed, has it?”

“It hasn’t.”

“You still remember?”

“I have a very good memory.”

Luo Peiyin waited for Gu Qiao to pull her little head back inside, shut the door properly, and go to sleep.

But her mouth showed no sign of stopping. She had far too much to say to Luo Peiyin — she couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

Gu Qiao kept talking, her lips as red as her face: “I’m leaving on the afternoon train on the twenty-eighth of the twelfth lunar month. Can we have dinner together every evening for the next few days?” Besides the evenings, she could even take a day off specially to spend time with him. Their time together was simply too little.

“Sure.” Luo Peiyin cut the conversation short. “Goodnight — get some rest.”

Gu Qiao swallowed the rest of what she had wanted to say. “Goodnight.” Her head retreated back behind the door. She leaned against it, and five minutes later the sound of running water drifted through the gap — Luo Peiyin was taking a shower, she guessed.

After her bath, she had carefully tidied up all traces of herself, picking up every stray strand of hair and throwing them in the rubbish bin.

At two in the morning, Gu Qiao was still not asleep. She sat up in bed, propped her elbows on her knees, and held her face in both hands. Even though her face had been rinsed by water many times, the sensation of his kisses remained.

Gu Qiao’s fingers touched her own lips. She closed her eyes and recalled the feeling when those fingers had come into contact with his lips.

Up to this point, what Gu Qiao knew about physiology had not told her that it was entirely natural, now that she had fully matured, to feel this kind of desire awakened within her. But because right now this desire was so specifically directed at one particular person, her limited knowledge in this area made her believe that all the stirring physical sensations surging through her body had been brought into being by Luo Peiyin alone. Without him, she would not feel any of this.

This made him all the more special to her.

She had always slept soundly, yet tonight, quite unusually, she couldn’t sleep.

Gu Qiao cradled her face in her hands and let her thoughts scatter in all directions. Their relationship was different from before — she decided she needed to give him a new form of address in private. But what should she call him?

At three in the morning, Gu Qiao sat hugging her knees on the bed. She had made up her mind: she would no longer call Luo Peiyin “cousin” in private, but would call him “Little Luo” instead. Who told him to act so superior, like a senior family member, when he was only two years older than her? She would deliberately put a “little” in front of his name.

Thinking this, a smile crept onto the corner of Gu Qiao’s mouth. Drowsiness found her, and she fell asleep with that smile still on her lips.

When she woke and pulled open a crack in the curtains, it was already very bright outside. It was the latest she had slept in two years.

A person rushing along a road doesn’t fear wind or snow — sometimes the fiercer the storm, the more urgently they press forward, afraid of falling behind. What one fears is encountering a warm shelter along the way and lingering there, unwilling to move on. She told herself: that absolutely must not happen.

When Gu Qiao came out of the bedroom, she saw Luo Peiyin in the living room, flipping through a newspaper. She didn’t know how to explain herself — she needed to rush home, pick up her goods, and get to the market. She had made arrangements with a customer yesterday about a collection time, and there was no way she could make breakfast now. She was still working out how to explain this when she saw the fried eggs and milk already on the table.

Luo Peiyin told her he had bought her a new towel — she wouldn’t need to use his anymore.

In the bedroom, Gu Qiao found a new yellow towel. She brushed her teeth and washed her face in a hurry, then pressed the whole towel against her face. She now had one more reason to work hard.

Gu Qiao drank her milk in a great rush. Luo Peiyin glanced at his watch. “If you finish in ten minutes, you’ll still make it. I’ll drive you.”

Three minutes later, Gu Qiao had finished the entire breakfast. She had barely swallowed before she was already lavishing him with praise: “You’re such a good cook — I’ve never had fried eggs this delicious.” It was an exaggerated compliment offered to make up for her failings.

Her words had barely landed when a white handkerchief was pressed to the corner of her mouth. “You have milk foam on your lips.”

And that wasn’t all — Luo Peiyin also pointed out that she had buttoned her coat wrong. She looked down at the misaligned buttons and, realizing he was watching her, immediately turned her back, undid them, and refastened them one by one.

While re-buttoning, Gu Qiao said, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll drive myself home. Don’t forget — we’re meeting at the Summer Palace at five o’clock.” It got dark early, and any later there would be nothing worth photographing.

Luo Peiyin looped his scarf around Gu Qiao’s neck, paying no mind to her protests. “I’ll take you — I promise you won’t miss anything.”

Even sitting in the passenger seat, Gu Qiao’s face was still red. This time, the redness had nothing to do with shyness. This was the very first day of their changed relationship, and the image she had presented to him was: breaking promises, drinking milk and leaving milk foam on her lips, and buttoning her coat wrong. If she hadn’t promised to make breakfast in the first place, it would be one thing — but she had told him clearly, word by word, through that crack in the door. And she had ended up sleeping in.

Who would trust the promises of someone so unreliable?

Gu Qiao told herself: these mistakes could not be made again. Her reputation with Luo Peiyin was already questionable — with her customers, it absolutely could not be.

Luo Peiyin drove quickly, delivering her to her stall in time for the promised handover. Before she got out, Luo Peiyin kissed her cheek — so lightly that Gu Qiao wondered if she had imagined it.

She called out to Luo Peiyin, “We’re meeting at the Summer Palace at five!”

Gu Qiao delivered her goods as agreed. She felt a little resentful that she hadn’t managed to wake up on time — if she had gotten up earlier, she could have gone home to change into a new coat and put on the little bird brooch Luo Peiyin had given her.

Before five o’clock even arrived, snow began to drift down from the sky.

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