◎ Xiao Luo ◎

“I’m leaving today.”

Upon hearing this, Gu Qiao immediately glanced at Luo Peiyin. They had agreed to take the train back together tomorrow. How had he changed his mind? But Luo Peiyin’s expression told her he was not acting out of spite.

The way Luo Peiyin said it carried not the slightest suggestion of displeasure to anyone listening — as if this decision had been made before he had even arrived.

And in fact, that was exactly the case. Before getting off the train, Luo Peiyin had already arranged the guesthouse where he would be staying that night. He had never intended to spend the night at Gu Qiao’s family home — for one thing, rural areas tended to be even more conservative, and being in a relationship was one thing while staying overnight was quite another; for another, he was simply not accustomed to lodging in other people’s homes.

And of course, his reasons had now multiplied. He could see that Gu Qiao’s father visibly relaxed at his answer. Luo Peiyin did not consider himself a particularly perceptive person, but having never been made to feel so unwelcome from childhood onward, he could hardly fail to notice that most of the people in this household had drawn some measure of reassurance from his four-character reply. Gu Qiao was the sole exception. That she was the exception was enough.

Lou Deyu was somewhat taken aback by Luo Peiyin’s answer. He had assumed that after sitting on a train for over ten hours, this person would stay at least one night. Luo Peiyin turned out to be rather more perceptive than he had imagined. Though Lou Deyu was surprised, he had not a trace of intention to press him to stay: “I’ll borrow a vehicle this afternoon and take you there.”

“Thank you, please don’t bother. There’s a passenger bus nearby — I’ll take that.”

Lou Deyu knew perfectly well that “nearby” was no ordinary nearby — it was at least five li away: “Gu Qiao’s pager is broken anyway; I was going to go into the county seat to have it repaired. It’s right on the way — no need to stand on ceremony.” Since Luo Peiyin was leaving today, Lou Deyu’s temper had eased somewhat.

Luo Peiyin turned to Gu Qiao: “Give me your pager — let me see if I can fix it.” This was the first thing Luo Peiyin had said directly to Gu Qiao during the entire meal. He was indirectly telling her that what was between them remained unchanged. He said nothing about the new alphanumeric pager he had bought her. With a new one, the old one repaired could fetch her some money.

That afternoon, Luo Peiyin did not have a single hour alone with Gu Qiao. While he was repairing the old pager, Gu Qiao’s youngest sister could not help asking: “Is fixing pagers the kind of work you do in America?”

“That particular business venture hasn’t been launched yet.” Beyond his scholarship, Luo Peiyin’s income came from the appreciation of technology company stocks he had purchased. Given his small initial capital and his habit of selling quickly, it only ever gave him a modest cushion beyond living expenses. When he was at university, it had coincided with a period of fierce competition between the United States and Japan, and one of the most hotly contested domains was semiconductors. Browsing Zhongguancun at that time, you could take apart any computer on the market and find nothing but foreign components — chips went without saying. His academic background was in semiconductor physics, with programming only as a tool, but gradually programming consumed more and more of his time. After arriving in America, he found that the early technology companies were still holding their own, but a new wave of companies that did not depend on hardware was rising. He had sensed a new climate forming. In the winter two years prior, the World Wide Web had appeared; in 1991, the Linux operating system had been released globally for the first time. Beyond researching open-source code himself, he had also mailed a few floppy disks to people he had known back in China.

The youngest sister noticed that this person who wanted to become her brother-in-law had his concentration entirely fixed on the pager in his hands, looking completely unlike the person at the dinner table. She thought that he had suddenly taken on an air of unapproachability.

The moment the grand-uncle arrived home, he broadcast to his family everything he had witnessed at Gu Qiao’s house. Presently his grandson arrived carrying vegetables and fruit from the family, extending an invitation for Luo Peiyin to come for dinner and rest there afterward.

The youngest sister answered on his behalf: “He’s leaving today — there’s no time to go to your house for dinner.”

“He’s come all this way — how can he be leaving so soon?”

Seeing that Luo Peiyin was repairing the pager, the young man — who was about the same age as Gu Qiao — remarked admiringly: “That’s really impressive — you actually know how to fix a pager.”

Luo Peiyin replied politely: “It’s not that difficult. Take one apart yourself and you’ll figure it out.”

“Oh…” Never mind whether he could really just take one apart and figure it out — how much did a pager cost, and could he really just casually dismantle one for the fun of it?

It could not be said that the Gu family were inhospitable to Luo Peiyin — the fruits, snacks, and nuts piled on the table were conspicuously generous for a household as modest as theirs, and were clearly prepared in his honor.

This was especially evident when Luo Peiyin departed: Lou Deyu had assembled several bags of local produce from the farm, some of which had been exchanged for cash from the neighbors. This family had never taken advantage of anyone — having accepted Luo Peiyin’s gifts, they naturally could not let him go away empty-handed.

Gu Jingshu said graciously: “These aren’t anything special — just local produce from the countryside, though they’re at their freshest this time of year. Please take them back and give them a taste.”

Lou Deyu, recovering his warmth, added: “I’ll borrow a vehicle in a bit and load all of this up for you.”

Luo Peiyin looked at the bags being piled up one after another: “Thank you — if I were staying in China right now, I would carry all of this to the station even on foot. But I’m about to go back abroad, and all these good things would only go to waste on me. Please keep them all.”

Lou Deyu was puzzled — how had this person’s manner of speaking become so agreeable all of a sudden? Yet when Luo Peiyin declined the offer of a ride and chose to walk to the passenger station in the neighboring village, he merely said: “Take care on the road.” He did not add, as one typically would out of politeness: “Do come again!”

Gu Qiao would not let Luo Peiyin walk alone. She said to her mother: “I’ll see him off.”

Gu Qiao and Luo Peiyin walked along the country road, keeping a certain distance between them. It was the fifth day of the New Year, no one was busy, and there were quite a few people out on the road who kept glancing their way from time to time.

Gu Qiao was not sure how to explain things to Luo Peiyin, and her heart was in a slight tangle. Ever since Xiao Jia had told her that Zhou Zhining was Zhou Zan’s adopted daughter, that suspicion had kept finding its way back to her. Xiao Jia had spoken of it as one of Zhou Zan’s virtues — that for the sake of his current love, Zhou Zan had given up the chance to have a child of his own blood, yet treated his adopted daughter as if she were his own.

Gu Qiao had long avoided letting her thoughts stray in that direction. In truth, for someone as publicly known as Zhou Zan, the year he returned to the city could easily be verified — but she had never looked it up. Yet with Luo Peiyin’s arrival, she could no longer avoid thinking about it. If it had been nothing more than a brief romance from over twenty years ago, how could it still haunt her home like a lingering ghost?

Luo Peiyin did not press Gu Qiao for an explanation either. The two of them walked along the road in a long-missed stillness. On either side were wheat fields. The air was unusually clear today — no dust, very blue. Were it not for a sudden gust of wind, the sky gave you the illusion that you could keep walking like this forever and it would be just fine.

Luo Peiyin stopped in his tracks at the right moment: “The wind is picking up — head back quickly.” Had there not been people watching them from the roadside, he would have tucked the hair the wind had blown across Gu Qiao’s face behind her ear and wrapped his scarf around her neck.

“It’s so far — shall I find a bicycle and ride you there? I’ll ride you and then cycle back.”

This time Gu Qiao did not boast about being able to carry two hundred jin of flour. Luo Peiyin declined: “Walking lets you see things more clearly. I want to take a proper look at the hometown where you grew up — that alone makes this trip worthwhile.”

Gu Qiao stood there, words failing her.

“We’re seeing each other again tomorrow anyway. Go back — if you stay any longer, your parents will think I’ve carried you off.”

Luo Peiyin quickened his pace. When he looked back, Gu Qiao finally turned and walked quickly back the way she had come.

Gu Qiao settled things with the family and told them she was returning to Beijing the next day. She also told Lou Deyu about her plan to go to Erenhot. Lou Deyu agreed on the spot — he was not comfortable with Gu Qiao going to Erenhot alone.

That night, Gu Qiao slept alongside her mother. Gu Jingshu had many things she wanted to say to her daughter, yet when the moment came, she did not know where to begin. She did not want her daughter to repeat her own past — though she herself had no regrets.

“Mom, I won’t let anyone hurt me. The things you’re worried about happening to me — none of them will happen.” Gu Qiao understood what her mother was afraid of. She did not say the words “premarital pregnancy” aloud — speaking those words felt like denying her own existence. Though she would absolutely never repeat that path, she would not give anyone the power to abandon her. She did not mention Zhou Zan with a single word, yet in her heart she said it over and over: she would, she absolutely would, live better than the man who had hurt and failed her mother. She would free her entire family from the shadow of that person.

But a mother’s only wish was for her daughter’s happiness. Gu Jingshu ruffled Gu Qiao’s hair as she had done when her daughter was small: “As long as you and your sisters are happy, that is the greatest blessing your father and I could ask for. Whether it is love or hatred — at any time, and whatever happens, never lose yourself for the sake of another.” She offered no further words of counsel, knowing her daughter was wiser than she herself had been back then.

Lou Deyu got up early the next morning, rode his motorcycle, and took Gu Qiao to the station. On the vehicle were also two bags of goods. Lou Deyu ventured tentatively: “How about leaving these two bags behind? Tomorrow I’ll bring them myself and sell them. You’re a young woman on your own…”

“I’m no worse than you at this by now. Besides, I’m going anyway.” Though the small sums earned from selling boiled eggs and local specialties were nothing compared to what she made selling clothes, it didn’t matter whether she earned much or little — she was taking the train regardless, and making a little was always better than nothing. Gu Qiao had not the slightest disdain for small earnings.

Gu Qiao had hauled far heavier loads than these two bags onto trains for her border-trade business, and she had more than enough experience with carrying heavy things aboard. Without too much effort, she hoisted both bags onto the train.

Luo Peiyin, watching Gu Qiao carry those two bags, suddenly thought of the first time he had ever seen her. Her hair was much longer now though, gathered into a thick bundle for convenience.

Luo Peiyin reached out to take Gu Qiao’s luggage and help her stow it. Gu Qiao quickly said: “No need — I’ll be selling these in a bit.”

“Tell me the truth — are you in some kind of trouble again?”

“No, don’t worry. Earning money is just something I do on the side. Every bit counts — I never look down on small earnings. If a person turns up their nose at money and refuses to earn because it’s too little, how will money ever come to them?” Having said this, Gu Qiao felt as though she had accidentally insulted Luo Peiyin, and quickly moved past the topic: “Which berth are you in?”

Luo Peiyin pointed to the upper berth beside her. He had bought two sleeper tickets — one lower berth and one upper. The lower berth he had given to Gu Qiao.

“You won’t sleep comfortably in that upper berth. I’ll be selling goods anyway — you take the lower berth. Did you rest all right last night?” There were two layers of meaning in Gu Qiao’s words.

“Well enough.” The guesthouse last night had given Luo Peiyin a room on the shaded side of the building, and there had been no hot water either. He was used to cold showers — that was no matter. But the quilt and sheets had been damp with mildew. Fortunately he had brought a book, and although he could not sleep through the night, the hours were at least not without interest. His legs had broken out in a rash from contact with the quilt, but it was covered by his trousers, so no one could see.

“I’d like to talk with you for a while.”

Gu Qiao sat at one end of the lower berth and made room for Luo Peiyin, gesturing for him to come sit. The two of them sat on Gu Qiao’s berth, with Luo Peiyin keeping a certain distance from her — nothing like the couple not far away who sat shoulder to shoulder. Gu Qiao had always assumed that Luo Peiyin was not the sort of person who liked showing affection in public, which made it all the more unexpected when he had suddenly taken her hand in front of someone as old-fashioned as the grand-uncle — she had been completely unprepared.

Gu Qiao chose her words with care: “Actually, my family all admire you very much — it’s just that this was rather sudden, and they weren’t quite ready for it. In their eyes I’m still quite young, and they hadn’t anticipated being faced with something like this. It’ll be fine once some time has passed.”

If Luo Peiyin hadn’t previously heard from Lou Deyu that Gu Qiao had been betrothed to Chen Hui, he might have believed this explanation about being young. He did not go after the truth or falseness of her words. If a person decides to tell an untruth, there is only one reason — the truth is harder to say.

When she finished, Gu Qiao looked at Luo Peiyin. She could not tell whether he believed her or not. In that instant, she felt a strong urge to pour everything out to him at once. But she swallowed it back. The past was already past — bringing it up again would only be like summoning a ghost.

All the things Gu Qiao had in her heart condensed in the end into two syllables. She called out to him softly: “Xiao Luo.” Since he was unwilling to be her older cousin, she would give him a different name — this address had been buried in her heart for a long time, and today she could finally let it out.

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