◎ Older Cousin ◎

It had originally been Old Qian who drove to the airport to collect Luo Peiyin — but by the time they left the terminal, it was Luo Peiyin who was behind the wheel.

When Luo Peiyin first offered to drive, Old Qian’s initial reaction was not that it was improper, but simply: can he actually drive? Yet once the steering wheel was in Luo Peiyin’s hands and the car moved smoothly and swiftly into the city, Old Qian found himself wondering where the young man had learned to drive like that. Old Qian had spent quite a few years as a military driver before becoming a chauffeur, and took no small pride in his own driving skills. But even by his discerning eye, Luo Peiyin handled the car without fault.

Old Qian supposed it must have been learned at his mother’s place in Singapore. He had vaguely heard that the boss’s former wife was in Singapore and had considerable wealth — there were probably no shortage of cars in that household.

Luo Peiyin’s maternal grandfather’s ancestors had left China for Southeast Asia in the previous century, driven by poverty, starting out with a small shop and gradually building something from nothing. By the time it reached his grandfather’s generation, the family had long since forgotten what it meant to want for money. At that time Singapore was still a British colony; despite their many years there, his grandfather’s family still considered themselves Chinese at heart. As a young man, his grandfather was not personally short of money, yet he burned with fury at the poverty and injustice others had to endure. In his teens, at his most hot-blooded, he gathered the valuables from his family home, pawned them for cash, and returned to China to join the resistance against Japan without leaving behind so much as a single letter. This was in the early 1930s, before China had mobilized for full-scale war. His grandfather left home in his teens; by the time Japan surrendered, he was past thirty. Somewhere in those years, he met a woman who shared his convictions — a young female student — and later had Luo Peiyin’s mother with her. No one knew whether, in the process of marrying and starting a family, his grandfather had ever spared a thought for his parents back home. Perhaps after the victory, seeing other families reunite stirred a longing in him — at last, he finally made a trip back.

His grandfather was the youngest son of the family, and from the moment this little boy was born, his mother had cherished him like a pearl in her palm. From the day her youngest disappeared without a word, she had been ill without recovery — but she held on to that last breath until her son came home. When his grandfather returned, he found that everything had changed beyond recognition. During the Japanese occupation of Singapore, his grandfather’s father had made donations to the resistance and had not survived the large-scale massacres carried out by Japanese forces; the family property had been seized by the Japanese army as well. The eldest son had been so traumatized that he never recovered; it was the second son who had kept the family alive by growing sweet potatoes and cassava.

Whether it was his grandfather’s filial nature or his merchant instincts that awakened first remains an open question to this day. After arranging his mother’s funeral, his grandfather made one more trip back to China — this time to bring his wife and daughter with him to Singapore, to restore the family’s former prosperity. But his grandmother loved her homeland even more than her husband did; in the end, she and Luo Peiyin’s mother stayed in China while his grandfather returned to Singapore alone. From that point on, the two of them were separated by the sea, and never saw each other again for the rest of their lives — until his grandmother passed away.

Grandmother used to say Luo Peiyin resembled his grandfather, but Luo Peiyin himself couldn’t see it at all. The first time he accompanied his mother back to Singapore to visit relatives, his grandfather had already taken on the look of an elderly patriarch. The old man had remarried again, and had many children — the household was what one might call flourishing. Eight-year-old Luo Peiyin stood among all these people and felt that everything was wrong everywhere he looked. The education he had received made it impossible for him to accept the fact that while he sat eating his meals, there were servants standing behind him. Everyone else took it completely for granted — anything else would have seemed abnormal to them. His mother, too, adapted very quickly.

Later, Luo Peiyin’s mother managed to emerge from among his grandfather’s many children as the sole heir to the family fortune — something that still filled Luo Peiyin’s uncles with resentment and bewilderment to this day. Luo Peiyin’s mother paid not the slightest attention to her brothers’ resentment behind her back; to her face, after all, they treated her with both reverence and fear. Her only dissatisfaction was with her own son — who showed none of the respect and awe toward all she had striven to build that she felt he ought to.

Ms. Liao believed the problem lay in having only one son. Luo Peiyin was her sole heir; he probably took it as his rightful due that everything of hers would one day be his — and who valued something that came so easily? An ordinarily soft-hearted mother might simply accept this, since she had only the one child and would have no more. But Ms. Liao was not an ordinary mother. When her son came to visit, she let him enjoy every pleasure that money could provide, and gave him gifts as her heart dictated — but she was sparing with actual cash. She told her son: money is like freedom — it does not come to your door on its own. You must work hard to earn it.

Luo Peiyin did not go straight home. Instead, he directed the car to Grandma Lian’s door. Old Qian had told him that Grandma Lian had slipped on the stairs and was now recuperating at her daughter’s house.

This small courtyard was one Grandma Lian had bought herself for her old age; her daughter and son-in-law’s family lived there ordinarily. To the outside world, Grandma Lian maintained that the courtyard had been purchased with her son-in-law’s business earnings.

Luo Peiyin knew the courtyard was Grandma Lian’s own, but kept it only as knowledge — he had never let on that he knew, nor ever mentioned it to anyone else.

Luo Peiyin asked Old Qian to wait for him at the door; he would be back out in ten minutes.

When word came that Luo Peiyin had arrived, Grandma Lian’s daughter received the fruit basket from him and politely showed him into the room where Grandma Lian was resting, then hurried off to pour tea and wash fruit. The lychees that hadn’t been set out were now brought out specially for the guest.

Grandma Lian had a spacious bedroom to herself; the bed faced a brand-new color television set, with a pair of single sofas and a tea table beside it. When she saw Luo Peiyin, she quickly sat up from the bed, smiling: “You’re back! It’s all my fault — I still regret it now. How could I have been so careless and caused so much trouble for everyone? How is your mother doing in Singapore? I hope she’s well.”

Ms. Liao had still been a young girl when Grandma Lian first went to work in her household. When Ms. Liao married and gave birth to Luo Peiyin, it wasn’t long before Grandma Lian was invited to come as well. Later, when Luo Peiyin returned to China on his own, with his father too busy to look after him, Grandma Lian came to the Luo household once again to manage the home. And once she came, she never left.

—

“My mother is doing very well. She asked me to pass on her regards.” With that, Luo Peiyin produced a velvet box containing a gold necklace. “This is a small gift she asked me to bring you.”

“Your mother is always so thoughtful.” Grandma Lian waved it away in polite refusal, but Luo Peiyin did not press her. He set the box on the small tea table beside the sofa, knowing they would put it away once he had gone.

Luo Peiyin recalled a time long ago when he had gathered many seashells on a beach and arranged them in the shape of a sheep, sealing them inside a picture frame — Grandma Lian was born in the Year of the Sheep, and he had planned to bring the frame back to China as a gift for her. His mother had laughed at him: *All that effort, and you’d have been better off giving her a gold coin. What makes you think she’ll like that sort of thing? A woman who has to raise two children on her own needs money most of all. That thing is completely useless to her.*

Ms. Liao was furious — her son apparently considered this old housekeeper more intimate than herself. If it weren’t for the wages she paid, would the woman really look after him? She pointed out her son’s foolishness without mercy: *Don’t tell me you actually think she takes such good care of you out of love? It’s because I’m paying her wages. You could try having me stop paying her and see if she still bothers with you.* Grandma Lian received one set of wages from Luo Bo’an and another from Ms. Liao. Luo Peiyin had not known this until Ms. Liao brought it up herself. Of course, Ms. Liao was a person who rewarded and punished accordingly — she bore no resentment against Grandma Lian on account of her son’s behavior. On the contrary, to reward Grandma Lian for her devoted service, she bought a very heavy gold bangle and had her son bring it back as a gift.

Grandma Lian’s reaction afterward proved what Ms. Liao had said. When she saw Luo Peiyin’s seashell picture frame, Grandma Lian gave only a polite smile and offered perfunctory praise — forced, at best — but when she saw the gold jewelry his mother had sent, her eyes lit up with an unbridled delight she couldn’t contain.

After the pleasantries, Grandma Lian added: “I’m nearly well enough to get about. I’ll be back in a few days.”

“There’s no hurry. Focus on getting better. Now that you’re home, stay a few more days.”

Grandma Lian went on: “If you still haven’t found a replacement, I’ll have my niece come over to help for a while. She’s got a good eye for what needs doing, and she’s careful. I’ll remind her of what to watch for. Better than a stranger brought in off the street. If she works out, she can keep on doing it; if not, I’ll call her back — no harm done either way.”

“You needn’t worry about that. Ms. Gu will take care of it.”

With *her* taking care of it, Grandma Lian thought, there was nothing to feel easy about. She suspected this new wife had long been looking for an opportunity to push her out and bring in someone new, and this was precisely that opportunity. Over the years she had saved enough to live comfortably in her old age, but she was reluctant to let go of this position. Getting double wages from two sources, and having been treated well by both Ms. Liao and the Luo household — after so many years, she had developed a genuine attachment. She had planned to work another two more years and then have her niece take over for her. For one thing, her niece was truly capable, and she felt comfortable recommending her to the Luo family; for another, she didn’t want to see anyone else take advantage of this arrangement. But then she had slipped and fallen, throwing all her plans into disarray. She had originally suggested bringing her niece in temporarily, but Mrs. Luo had turned her down. Now Grandma Lian had begun to suspect that this new wife’s sudden decision to bring in her own distant relative was specifically intended to replace her.

Grandma Lian brought up Gu Qiao with Luo Peiyin: “The very day you stepped out to leave for the airport, Teacher Gu’s niece arrived. She’s probably still at the house now. I’d never heard Teacher Gu mention this particular relative before — probably not very close, and yet somehow she’s ended up living there. I don’t know how it came about.” Even if her niece couldn’t take over the position, Grandma Lian didn’t want Gu’s relative to have it either. In thinking this way, Grandma Lian’s concern was entirely for Luo Peiyin’s sake. She had raised him from childhood and felt closer to him than to any other child. Mr. Luo was always busy and rarely home; between the children with the Gu surname and this niece of Gu’s, the Luo household was going to become the Gu household.

Luo Peiyin thought of Gu Qiao. She was still living at his house?

“That girl is clever — but being too clever can…”

Luo Peiyin glanced at his watch. “Please rest well and recover. Old Qian is still waiting for me outside. I’ll go ahead. He has other things to do after dropping me off.” He had no desire to speak ill of someone behind their back — he hadn’t the patience even to listen, let alone partake. Besides, he and Gu Qiao were hardly likely to have any meaningful dealings.

When Grandma Lian’s daughter came in carrying the tea and fruit, Luo Peiyin had already stood to say goodbye.

Grandma Lian tried to get up from the bed to see him to the door, but Luo Peiyin stopped her: “Please stay and rest.”

Old Qian hadn’t expected Luo Peiyin to come back out in under ten minutes — his cigarette was still only half finished. He dropped it to the ground and stamped it out underfoot.

This time, Luo Peiyin did not fight Old Qian for the steering wheel. He sat in the back seat and closed his eyes to rest.

Grandma Lian had been right — Luo Peiyin did indeed see Gu Qiao when he got home. She was still wearing her apron when she came to open the door for him. The two of them looked at each other, and Gu Qiao immediately broke into a smile, her eyes bright and shining, calling out a crisp and cheerful: “Older cousin!”

The warmth of it was as though he had been her older cousin for ten years already.

Luo Peiyin was momentarily at a loss — he gave a small nod as his reply. When Gu Qiao turned to lead him inside, he happened to notice that she had tied her apron strings in a deliberate bow at the back.

—