◎ Agreement ◎

On the first morning after her birthday, Gu Qiao saw a message from Peng Zhou on her pager and immediately called him back. The pager read: “Urgent matter — call back at once.”

As soon as she picked up, she heard Peng Zhou say: “Wait until you’re back — I’ll take you to Maxim’s for a proper Western dinner to make up for your birthday. Your buddy here bought himself a brand-new Xiali. When you get back, I’ll take you for a spin.”

“That’s your urgent matter? Isn’t your Fiat running perfectly fine?” Gu Qiao’s heart sank immediately. A red Xiali cost a hundred thousand yuan. With this, Peng Zhou’s business capital would be about the same as hers. Why couldn’t this guy put off indulging himself a little longer? The money he’d spent on the red Xiali could probably be upgraded to a Santana in another six months.

“Don’t talk to me about that Fiat — it’s like a toy car. It’s barely passable for a woman to drive, but for me to squeeze my whole body in as a man is a stretch.”

Gu Qiao said nothing more. Peng Zhou wasn’t that much bigger than her anyway, and besides, the Xiali wasn’t necessarily much roomier. But it was his own money, and the car was already bought — there was no point in saying more.

Gu Qiao gritted her teeth and said: “This time I’m treating you — to celebrate our first successful collaboration. Keep that money of yours for doing business, and don’t go adding more expenses.” This trip to Erenhot was partly for the high profit margins, but also because she wanted to get a feel for the border trade situation. Business there had gone even better than she’d expected. What surprised her was that some of the young Mongolian traders she encountered were not much older than her, and had university degrees. In her previous understanding, the people who plunged into business were mostly those who hadn’t gone to university. These Mongolian traders asked her when she was coming again — they were very fond of her leather jacket designs. She told the ones she’d dealt with that if they shifted their sourcing point from Erenhot to Beijing, the prices would be considerably more favorable.

At this point, Peng Zhou remembered the other urgent matter he’d meant to tell Gu Qiao: “I’ve got it all figured out now. It was definitely that lowlife surnamed Zhai who set us up. He signed a contract with a foreign trade company to buy eight thousand leather jackets in the same style as ours all at once. But there was only so much inventory — he’d already sold some to us, so he couldn’t fulfill his contract on time. He didn’t want to pay more, so naturally he had to find fault with us. Those tailoring workshops still had some principles — since the jacket design had been provided by you, they told Boss Zhai they’d only take the work after you voluntarily voided the contract. Thank goodness you signed the contract when you did, or who knows what else that lowlife might have pulled. No idea how he managed to wriggle out of it in the end. I saw him today — that lowlife has traded his Xiali for a Santana. And he had the nerve to ask me if I wanted to buy his second-hand Xiali. As if I’d drive his cast-off car.”

“Don’t use that kind of language in front of me. Let’s focus on doing proper foreign trade from now on — and you stop dealing in foreign currency exchange. As for Old Zhai, don’t go picking a fight with him for now. We’ll talk about everything when I’m back. If we do this right, I promise you’ll be driving a Santana before long.” In her mind, Gu Qiao was puzzling over something — eight thousand jackets in the same style, assembled in a short period of time, would have been impossible to source. Where on earth had Boss Zhai gotten his inventory? She wasn’t telling Peng Zhou to leave Zhai alone because she was protecting Zhai — it was because, with Peng Zhou’s way of thinking, picking a fight right now would only mean coming out on the losing end.

After hanging up with Peng Zhou, Gu Qiao threw on her military coat and headed back to the hospital. The red earrings Luo Peiyin had given her had been put away. She thought of how the red water-drops had bobbed and bounced yesterday, and still felt a little self-conscious. She deliberately ignored the ache in her lower back as she walked, keeping her pace just as quick as ever.

Gu Qiao assumed nothing about her was different from yesterday morning. But Lou Deyu sensed that something between the two of them had shifted. Even though they looked the same as the day before — no affectionate gestures in front of him, not even holding hands, not even saying anything particularly warm to each other. If anything, Gu Qiao seemed to be making a point of keeping more distance from Luo Peiyin than usual. When Gu Qiao accidentally brushed Luo Peiyin’s hand, she pulled back immediately, acting so reserved and restrained that she didn’t seem like someone in a relationship at all.

After all, Deyu was a middle-aged man — scrutinizing the subtle inner changes of a young woman’s heart would be beneath his dignity. That kind of scrutiny could only be forgiven when done by a young man in love. Deyu gave up trying to read his daughter’s psychology and turned his attention to Luo Peiyin instead.

By the day they returned to Beijing, Deyu still hadn’t noticed anything unusual about Luo Peiyin — mainly because he hadn’t known what Luo Peiyin was like before. He also didn’t know how Luo Peiyin had managed to get them a premium soft-sleeper private compartment. Two berths in the same compartment — Luo Peiyin was in a different carriage.

Deyu didn’t really want to accept this favor. Even though he had no money now, he’d made his way across the country enough times to know that not only were private rail compartments expensive, but they also required a certain rank to obtain. He guessed Luo Peiyin had used his father’s connections. He thought of the thrice-married old man and the sister-in-law at the wedding all those years ago, and sighed inwardly. A man who had benefited so much from his father’s shadow — he probably couldn’t make his own decisions.

But if he weren’t in the compartment, he’d have to swap with Luo Peiyin. Actively leaving two young people alone together in a sealed train compartment?

With Gu Qiao right there, Lou Deyu smiled and asked Luo Peiyin: “Do your parents approve of your relationship with Gu Qiao?” Deyu had thought long and hard before asking. He knew it made him look a little undignified to ask outright, but it was better than having everything already happen, and then having this young man say his parents didn’t approve and breaking things off with Gu Qiao. If they were going to break up, better sooner than later.

He felt guilty toward Gu Qiao again. And with poor timing, he found himself thinking of the man surnamed Zhou. If Gu Qiao were Zhou Zan’s daughter right now — even though Zhou Zan appeared to hold no particular power or influence, his social standing and reputation at the moment would make them an even match. At the very least, the Luo boy couldn’t break up with Gu Qiao on the grounds of incompatible social standing.

Deyu suddenly recalled the past — he had been the second person to know that Gu Jingshu was pregnant, after Gu Jingshu herself. He had been the sole witness to that young woman’s innermost feelings, from falling in love to parting ways. When Zhou Zan left their village, Deyu had been more relieved than anyone, convinced that young man would never return. But when Gu Jingshu left home for two days and came back alone from the train station, Lou Deyu resolved to find Zhou Zan. He decided that no matter what it took, he would make Zhou Zan marry her. He brought two bottles of liquor to the commune and obtained Zhou Zan’s contact address. When he boarded the train to Beijing, he had only fifty fen in his pocket — not even enough for a return ticket. In a city he’d never been to, armed with nothing but his wits, he actually found Zhou Zan — and saw a different girl sitting on the back of Zhou Zan’s bicycle.

In that instant, Deyu’s blood surged with rage, but he didn’t even land two slaps on Zhou Zan’s behalf for Gu Jingshu. He looked down at his own tattered, worn-out clothes. If he had acted as her representative like this, Gu Jingshu would have lost all her dignity. He swore to himself right then that he would make sure Gu Jingshu had a good life.

Yet just as he’d managed to give his family a few good years, blinded by greed, he had not only failed to improve things further — he’d dragged them right back to where they started.

It was his fault for failing to earn the respect of those who only valued wealth and status. Gu Qiao could blame him for it in any way she liked in the future — he would accept it all. But right now, he couldn’t let Gu Qiao be the one who suffered.

Luo Peiyin didn’t answer. He looked at Deyu as though Deyu were speaking a language he didn’t understand: “When it comes to who I love and who I marry, aside from Gu Qiao herself, I don’t need anyone else’s approval.”

“So your parents don’t know you and Gu Qiao are together yet?”

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