◎ A Gift For Me??? ◎

Gu Qiao walked inside alongside Luo Peiyin. She turned to glance sideways at him — he seemed a shade darker than the last time she’d seen him. And to think this person could actually be allergic to tomatoes! Tomatoes were so delicious!

Luo Peiyin walked quickly. Gu Qiao kept pace with brisk steps, calling in that bright, clear voice of hers: “Older cousin, Grandma Lian had a little fall not long ago and has gone home to recover. But don’t worry — it’s nothing serious.”

Luo Peiyin gave a sound of acknowledgment, indicating he knew.

Gu Qiao fell into step with him again and continued: “Older cousin, while Grandma Lian has been away, I’ve been doing the cooking these past few days. I heard you like fish — today I went out specially and bought some. Would you prefer steamed fish or fish ball soup?”

Luo Peiyin recalled what Grandma Lian had said about Gu Qiao. The old woman’s remarks were probably born from worry that this relative of Ms. Gu’s would end up taking over the position. He had told Grandma Lian not to worry, but his meaning was not that the position would be kept open for her or her niece — that was for Ms. Gu to decide, and he would not interfere. Besides, at Grandma Lian’s age, retiring at home to enjoy her later years was hardly a bad thing. What he had meant by “don’t worry” was that, given his mother’s principles, she would ensure that this old woman who had devoted so many years to caring for both of them received enough money to live out her old age comfortably, even if she were no longer working.

He hadn’t spelled it out, because the moment he did, Grandma Lian would only insist she wanted to come back to the Luo household and that it had nothing to do with money. That kind of protestation he had no desire to hear. And what if it *was* about money? On that point he actually agreed with his mother — someone who had performed their duties faithfully deserved to receive what they were due.

Luo Peiyin turned to Gu Qiao and said: “Thank you. You decide.” He had always been polite to the household staff.

Gu Qiao immediately said: “Alright then, I’ll make fish ball soup tonight.” Fish ball soup was more involved, and since it would be her first time making it, this would be good practice. She didn’t re-introduce herself to Luo Peiyin — she assumed he already knew who she was from the day he’d brought her here.

Luo Peiyin had reached the foot of the stairs when he heard someone call out again: “Older cousin!”

He found it mildly irritating, but when he turned to look at Gu Qiao, he showed nothing: “Is there something else?”

He had no particular objection to being called “older cousin.” It was perfectly natural for a young housekeeper to pick up whatever the family’s younger children called someone — what else was she supposed to say? Surely not address him like the servants in his mother’s household, with endless “young master” this and “young master” that, as though it were the last century. Besides, the two of them did have something of a familial connection.

“Older cousin, I’ll only take thirty seconds more of your time. I’d like to confirm your dietary restrictions with you.” Without waiting for Luo Peiyin to respond, Gu Qiao rattled off a list she had compiled from everything the fourth Luo child had told her. When she was done, she looked up at Luo Peiyin. “Is that right?”

When Luo Peiyin heard the full list, he felt something very nearly like admiration: “That’s correct. Thank you.”

Gu Qiao received his “thank you” with perfect ease, smiling back at once: “Don’t mention it!” And with that, she spun around and headed for the kitchen, her steps light and quick.

Gu Qiao’s bright cascade of “older cousins” had alerted everyone — within moments, the entire household knew that Luo Peiyin had come home.

Gu Qiao stood alone in the kitchen, absorbed in her fish ball soup.

Whenever she was immersed in cooking, Gu Qiao had the pleasant illusion that opening her own restaurant and making good money was just around the corner.

The few warm memories Gu Qiao and Lou Deyu shared were of the times when Lou Deyu would describe, in great and captivating detail, how he had made his fortune. Whenever he told those stories of his rise to wealth, Gu Qiao listened with rapt attention, and in gratitude for her enthusiastic audience, Lou Deyu would pull a large bill from his wallet and hand it to her with lavish generosity, telling her to go buy herself whatever she liked, and to come back for more if it wasn’t enough.

Among those wealth stories of Lou Deyu’s was the tale of someone or other who had gone to Chinatown in America to run a Chinese restaurant, earning tens of thousands of US dollars a year. Tens of thousands — in US dollars.

If she could make that kind of money, would she and her mother ever have to worry about money again? The thought was almost intoxicating, capable of dispelling all her anxieties and worries.

Gu Qiao had previously registered at a job placement center, which had offered her some referrals, but her aunt had vetoed every single one. Yet the kind of position her aunt considered suitable had not come looking for her. Her aunt told her not to rush — she would handle the job situation. On one hand, Gu Qiao believed her aunt was genuinely looking out for her and had far more experience and knowledge of the world; on the other hand, her aunt always invoked her mother as the deciding factor, saying that if her mother knew she had come here to work as a housekeeper, a waitress, or a warehouse attendant, she simply wouldn’t be able to accept it. Gu Qiao decided to wait a little longer — if summer ended and she still hadn’t found the ideal job her aunt described, she would take whatever came along. Starting a business required capital, and she needed to save some money first.

Gu Qiao did not regard cooking as a burden. She thought of it as preparation for her future career. Every skill you accumulated was another path available to you. She had everything she needed here: the proper equipment, a grocery budget that could supply any ingredient, and a ready-made audience to give her feedback. It didn’t get any better than this. Aside from the fourth Luo child, who had enthusiastically provided her with a complete inventory of everything he loved to eat, she had also asked him what his parents, sisters, and brother enjoyed. She approached it with the mentality of both owner and head chef, planning every meal she put on the table with the goal of ensuring everyone could eat something they loved. She pushed herself to produce dishes the whole household would enjoy, continually expanding the range of what appeared on the dining table. Gu Qiao didn’t do this to flatter or ingratiate herself with anyone — it was a rehearsal for her future ambitions, though to an outside observer there might be no discernible difference between the two.

And if it happened to produce the effect of pleasing everyone in the household, Gu Qiao thought there was nothing wrong with that either. If anyone in this family happened to discover her as the thoroughbred she was — limitless potential — and chose to invest in her, that would be nothing short of wonderful. She badly needed a patron right now.

Today there was one more diner at the table. Luo Peiyin’s tastes conflicted with nearly everyone else in the household. She would have to find a balance — no favoring one over another. Taking into account Luo Peiyin’s love of fish and preference for mild flavors, Gu Qiao had been at the market early in the morning to buy a live fish.

By now Gu Qiao was very familiar with the market. She’d noticed that produce there was cheaper than in the shops, even though her aunt had never asked her to economize. Her aunt gave her money from time to time for groceries; she kept a daily account and proactively reported the expenses to her aunt. Her aunt found it tiresome after a couple of days and told her to manage it herself. But Gu Qiao kept the ledger anyway — partly to keep the accounts transparent and avoid any misunderstandings, and partly because a future business owner needed the ability to manage costs, and she might as well start training herself now.

She had also gotten to know the other young housekeepers in the neighborhood. One day her aunt saw her chatting with them and was displeased: “Why are you mixing with that lot? Remember — you are not a housekeeper. How you see yourself is how others will see you.”

Gu Qiao had absolutely no conception of herself as a housekeeper. Those young housekeepers were far better off financially than she was — they received a monthly wage, while she was still in a state of temporary unemployment. Watching those housekeepers deck themselves out in bright colors with their paychecks, Gu Qiao felt a small pang of envy. Though of course her aunt had nothing but disdain for their vivid clothes, hair clips, and ribbons — she thought it all dreadfully provincial.

Gu Qiao didn’t think of herself as a housekeeper, but she didn’t think of her aunt’s home as her own home either. Back at her own house, when she cooked, her younger sisters would always help with small tasks — and they were always happy to do it. But here, although in address she called the third and fourth Luo children “younger cousin,” she couldn’t with any confidence ask them to help, nor did they show the slightest inclination to. But this didn’t trouble Gu Qiao much — since she was staying here temporarily, it was only right to do a bit more. More doing meant more learning too, she told herself.

At this particular moment, Gu Qiao’s full attention was on the fish ball soup. She had offered Luo Peiyin the choice between steamed fish and fish ball soup. But steamed fish had been served just the previous evening, and the rest of the household would probably want a change today. Even before she asked Luo Peiyin, she had already been leaning toward fish ball soup — so when he told her to decide, she said it without a moment’s hesitation.

Gu Qiao had never applied herself this diligently to her schoolbooks as she now did to recipe research. She carefully reviewed the key steps in her mind. Scraping the fish flesh into a paste wasn’t the hardest part — the real challenge was controlling the speed at which the fish balls were dropped into the boiling water.

Normally dinner was four dishes and a soup, but that evening, with Luo Peiyin’s return, Gu Qiao had deliberately added two more dishes. To preserve the fresh flavor of the fish, she had already prepared the fish paste but decided to wait until the last moment before dropping the fish balls into the pot. The meal wasn’t ready yet when the fourth Luo child finished his piano practice and came to the kitchen to inspect — he absolutely loved chicken, and Gu Qiao had promised to make chicken wings for him today.

Drawn in by the smell of the chicken wings, he couldn’t help asking: “Older cousin, when’s dinner?”

With so many dishes on the go today, Gu Qiao was thinking about how cooling food would affect the taste. She decided to serve now and have everyone start eating.

She told him: “Go take the four finished dishes out to the dining table, then fill the rice bowls, and call everyone for dinner. The rest of the dishes will be done shortly.” She felt a little awkward asking him to wash vegetables or pick through greens, but asking him to carry dishes and fill rice bowls — that seemed perfectly normal to her.

The fourth Luo child pursed his lips. When Grandma Lian was here, carrying dishes and filling rice bowls was never something expected of him. His third sister had told him that their cousin was probably here to replace Grandma Lian — it was common enough for people to bring in a country relative to work as a housekeeper. He had been delighted at the news, thinking: *that old Grandma Lian was finally gone.* And since Gu Qiao was a relative on his mother’s side, she ought naturally to lean toward him. But so far he hadn’t felt any particular favoritism from Cousin Qiao — even with second brother’s return, she’d actually added two extra dishes. Still, at least he’d still be getting chicken wings even with second brother home. Cousin Qiao was already far better than Grandma Lian. Second brother was on Grandma Lian’s side — so letting second brother have a pleasant first impression might work in his favor later. The fourth Luo child suspected that given how much their father favored second brother, if second brother insisted on Grandma Lian coming back, their mother would have to give in.

The fourth Luo child was eager to eat and didn’t waste time arguing. He did exactly what Gu Qiao said.

At the dining table, with the goal of driving Grandma Lian out of his household for good, the fourth Luo child made a point of crediting Gu Qiao in front of his second brother: “Second brother, Cousin Qiao specifically added two extra dishes in honor of your return. The fish ball soup was made especially for you.”

Gu Qiao didn’t deny it, but added immediately: “We had chicken broth yesterday, so serving fish today is also a nice change of pace for everyone.”

Luo Peiyin thought: Grandma Lian was right — Gu Qiao was quick-witted. With a single dish, she had appeared to look after everyone. He had rather misjudged her before, thinking her a bit of a simpleton who might get taken advantage of.

Even Mrs. Luo found herself thinking that Gu Qiao was perhaps a bit too clever. After Grandma Lian’s fall, Gu Qiao had truly been a help to her. Even though she was dissatisfied with Grandma Lian, finding a suitable replacement wasn’t easy either — without someone suitable, she would eventually have to ask Grandma Lian to come back. Having Gu Qiao to bridge the gap gave her more room to choose carefully. But watching things from her current vantage point, Gu Qiao was working too hard — she hadn’t told Gu Qiao what Luo Peiyin liked or didn’t like, yet she had figured it all out in advance. The two were of similar age, opposite sex, and she feared Gu Qiao might be developing ideas she shouldn’t. She had worried before that Gu Qiao would be too lacking in ambition and end up following in her cousin’s footsteps — but too much ambition wasn’t a good thing either. In the end it would only break her own heart, and the whole situation would be awkward. Zhou Zan’s daughter had been coming and going from the household often enough, yet she’d never seen Luo Peiyin show any particular interest in her. His options were so many — Gu Qiao wasn’t even among them.

Mrs. Luo was thinking she ought to give Gu Qiao a quiet but pointed reminder eventually: having ambition was fine, but one needed to keep one’s feet on the ground. With Gu Qiao’s abilities, standing on tiptoe, she could just about reach a decent, ordinary university student from a moderately well-off city family. She was currently considering finding Gu Qiao a job in university administration — that would also make it easier for her to attend night school later and improve her qualifications.

Gu Qiao hadn’t the faintest inkling of her aunt’s thoughts. Her attention was still on the food: “This soup — today was my first time making it, and there’s still room for improvement. If anyone has suggestions, feel free to share them afterward.”

The fourth Luo child, desperate for Gu Qiao to stay, immediately chimed in: “I think the soup is fantastic. Second brother, what do you think?”

“The fish balls are very fresh.” Luo Peiyin was not being polite — if this was genuinely Gu Qiao’s first time making fish ball soup, it was indeed quite impressive. He had also noticed that it wasn’t only the soup that had accounted for his tastes. Knowing he didn’t eat scallions or garlic, Gu Qiao had omitted the garlic cloves from the purslane stir-fry — normally a standard inclusion — modifying the dish accordingly.

After dinner, Gu Qiao cleared away the bowls and dishes while the Luo family went straight to the sitting room. Although Gu Qiao had taken on all of the household duties and genuinely didn’t mind doing the washing up and wiping the table — it was just the capable ones doing more, she told herself — it still bothered her a little that the others accepted it all as simply and unquestioningly her job to do. She wasn’t asking them to handle the heavy work; she was happy to cover that. But couldn’t they at least offer to help with the small things? Even a pretense of offering would do. If these Luo children were her own sisters and brother, she’d have told them directly: “It’s your turn to wash the dishes today.” Back in her own home, in fact, this kind of thing would never have happened at all — no one there would sit and watch her do everything alone. Even Lou Deyu would never have done that.

But since she was a guest living in someone else’s home, Gu Qiao felt there was no point making an issue of it. Her aunt had already gone so far beyond her expectations. Who was there to blame, really? Only Lou Deyu — and this person still hadn’t come home to face his responsibilities! She cursed Lou Deyu soundly in her heart, then told herself: once she found a job, she’d have a chance to move out. Thinking that, her spirits lifted considerably, and she carried the dishes briskly to the kitchen.

While wiping down the table, Gu Qiao heard Luo Peiyin in the sitting room distributing gifts he had brought back from his travels. A wave of homesickness surged through her. Lou Deyu used to bring gifts for the family when he came home from his trips too — she had even quarreled with him over gifts once. She’d felt he was far too perfunctory about what he bought her. Even at fifteen or sixteen, he was still bringing her toys meant for small children, while for her younger sisters he had given actual thought to what they’d like. Whether Lou Deyu treated her well or not was another matter — at least in front of him, she could assert her right to be treated fairly. But this was someone else’s household, and the gifts were someone else’s affair.

*Work hard*, Gu Qiao told herself. A wonderful future was waiting for her. Even if she didn’t know quite which day that future would arrive — it was definitely waiting for her.

“Gu Qiao.”

She heard someone call her name and turned at once, a smile already in place. “Older cousin.”

Luo Peiyin extended a small box toward her. “For you.”

Gu Qiao stared, astonished, pointing at herself: “For me?” How could that be? Did Luo Peiyin somehow know in advance that she would be living in his house? And he had brought her a gift? She suppressed her surprise and smiled: “Thank you, older cousin.”

The fourth Luo child, spotting that Cousin Qiao had a gift too, rushed over to ask what it was.

Gu Qiao wasn’t sure whether to open it here. She instinctively glanced at Luo Peiyin, who said: “Go ahead, take a look.” He had noticed Gu Qiao wiping the table alone, and it seemed to him that out of basic courtesy, she shouldn’t be the only one left out of the gifts. Whenever he returned from a long trip, he always brought back a small present for everyone in the house — that “everyone” included both his half-siblings and Grandma Lian. It had nothing to do with affection; it was purely a matter of propriety.

The gift for Gu Qiao was something he had bought at a small shop during a vacation in Thailand with his mother. He had noticed the little bird brooch at first glance and thought it was quite charming — though he knew immediately his mother would have no use for it, and ended up choosing something different for her. When he went to pay, since the brooch wasn’t expensive, he had bought it along with everything else.

When selecting other gifts, he had a very clear purpose in mind for each one; all told, choosing everything had taken less than five minutes. He had no intention of surprising any of the recipients — meeting the standard of propriety without any awkward missteps was enough. The brooch was the only thing he’d bought without a recipient in mind, simply because he found it interesting and it was cheap.

When he saw Gu Qiao alone at the table, wiping it down with the forceful dedication of someone trying to move a mountain, he suddenly thought of the brooch he had bought. Giving it to her seemed appropriate enough — this person was like a little bird herself, chattering away without pause.

—

Urged on by the fourth Luo child, Gu Qiao opened the box. It was a brooch: three birds, each slightly larger than the last, perched in ascending order on a golden branch; all three had white upper bodies and blue lower bodies, their beaks and the branch beneath their feet echoing each other in gold.

The clothes Gu Qiao was wearing under her apron were white on top and blue on the bottom — her aunt preferred pale colors and had suggested them to her. Who would have thought they’d match so perfectly.

Luo Peiyin was rather surprised. This chatterbox of a girl was quiet for once, her head bowed. After quite a long moment, he finally heard her say thank you. That “thank you” was still as clear and bright as ever.

—