◎ A Question of Character ◎

Lou Deyu was only in the hospital under duress. In his opinion, his condition only required him to come in regularly for bandage changes — after all, the stitches would be coming out in a few days anyway. But Gu Qiao had brought her mother into it, and Deyu had no choice but to agree to stay another two days.

In his current condition, he didn’t need anyone to keep watch by his bedside. When he heard that Luo Peiyin was heading home that evening, Deyu immediately urged Gu Qiao to go home and get some rest. He might be ill, but he had at least taken the opportunity to rest during his hospital stay. Gu Qiao had been running on a tight wire ever since her trip to Erenhot, and then had to take care of him on top of it — she genuinely needed to rest.

It was only after Gu Qiao and Luo Peiyin left the ward that Lou Deyu realized he’d been tricked. How could Gu Qiao ever let her mother worry?

On the way back, Gu Qiao’s pager went off twice. Both times were from the same number, and the message was identical: “Urgently need three thousand leather jackets — call back immediately.” Since the number was from Inner Mongolia, Gu Qiao was even more certain that a large order had just come her way.

Gu Qiao gripped the pager tightly, eyes fixed on the message. Her palm was sweating, slick against the device.

She glanced at Luo Peiyin beside her. She desperately wanted to share this good news with him — but since nothing was confirmed yet, she let the news consume her alone on the inside. Her gaze turned toward the window, scanning the storefronts along the street for a payphone. The moment she spotted one with no queue, she immediately called for the driver to stop.

“Wait — I need to make a phone call.”

The call was from a Mongolian man. On his last trip, his younger cousin had bought leather jackets from Gu Qiao in Erenhot. It was no secret that jackets at the source were far cheaper than at the border. Even before his cousin did business with Gu Qiao, he’d already been thinking about coming to the source to buy directly — he just hadn’t been before, wasn’t familiar with the prices at the source, and had always had some reservations. In imperfect Mandarin, he asked Gu Qiao whether she could get hold of three thousand leather jackets in the same style as the ones she’d previously sold his cousin. He was getting on a train from Erenhot right now and heading over. Gu Qiao had no inventory on hand whatsoever, but she said yes. The man on the other end asked how to reach her. Gu Qiao gave him the name of a hotel and her pager number.

After hanging up, Gu Qiao instinctively rubbed her hands together. Even though it was technically spring, the night wind seemed inherited from winter, lingering on without any intention of leaving. She looked up and saw stars — dense and countless. She followed the direction Luo Peiyin had once pointed out to her and looked over, a faint smile forming on her lips. Before the smile had faded, she turned and found Luo Peiyin standing right behind her.

Luo Peiyin asked no questions, simply opened the car door for her. Gu Qiao climbed in and told the driver to change course — toward the hotel she had mentioned.

She wasn’t going home. She needed a fixed business address right now, and a phone she could use to regularly reach the tailoring workshops. She couldn’t even wait until tomorrow to book a room.

“I just got a large leather jacket order. A Mongolian buyer is coming to meet me tomorrow, and I thought a hotel would be the best place for it. The lobby has a café — it’s convenient for business talks.” Gu Qiao took a deep breath, then steeled herself to say: “Tomorrow there’s the contract to sign and sourcing to sort out — it’s all quite urgent. So when you go home, hold off on bringing up our relationship for now. Let’s save that for your next visit.”

“Next visit?”

“It’s too rushed this time. Next time I’ll have a chance to prepare properly.” It wasn’t entirely about the business, either. Gu Qiao didn’t feel that her uncle-by-marriage particularly wanted to see her. If his family didn’t want to see her, why should she sacrifice a business opportunity to force a meeting? Of course, from Luo Peiyin’s perspective, she was clearly going back on her word. First her father had pressed Luo Peiyin about whether his parents knew and approved. Then, to meet her father’s expectations, he had arranged for her to meet his family — and now she was going back on it because of a phone call. One phone call had overturned all his prior arrangements. She’d seemed perfectly agreeable before, and now she needed to prepare and wait for next time. As though he were less important than a single phone call.

“Not even time for one meal?”

Luo Peiyin’s voice was perfectly calm, but Gu Qiao detected a trace of displeasure in it. She glanced sideways at him — he wasn’t looking at her.

Gu Qiao’s fingers sought out his. She laid her hand on the back of his, patted it lightly, let her fingers rest on his knuckles — hard and solid — and slowly traced over them. She shifted herself a little closer and lowered her voice: “Don’t be upset.” She had no intention of driving a wedge between him and his parents, which was why she didn’t say that she didn’t particularly want to see them right now — because she already sensed they didn’t particularly want to see her.

Her voice was low, audible only to the person beside her.

Her hand was gripped — painfully. She bit down and made no sound.

It wasn’t until the car stopped in front of the hotel that Gu Qiao’s hand was released from Luo Peiyin’s grip. Her whole hand had gone completely numb, every bit of strength drained from it.

“You wait here — I’ll go book the room.”

“Don’t bother — I can do it myself.”

“I’m going in with you.”

Gu Qiao held her hand inside her coat pocket. The feeling from a moment ago had not yet faded. The two of them stepped into the elevator. Sharing the elevator with them was a middle-aged man who spoke at full volume: “Property prices in Haikou have doubled compared to six months ago — the most expensive real estate in the country right now is in Haikou, what’s there to be worried about—” and then his voice suddenly dropped.

People are like that: when a voice is too loud, it just sounds like noise — no one wants to listen. But the moment it drops, curiosity is piqued.

Luo Peiyin noticed that curiosity in Gu Qiao’s eyes. To be able to divert attention toward financial information at a time like this was a genuinely rare and remarkable quality.

Although Gu Qiao was interested in all things related to money. But the reason she was staring at this stranger was also, partly, to avoid looking at what she actually wanted to look at.

By the time they stepped out of the elevator, the man inside was still talking. Gu Qiao made a point of glancing back at him, as if hoping to catch whatever he said next.

The moment the room door opened, Luo Peiyin locked it from the inside immediately.

When Luo Peiyin let his lashes drop their guard, all trace of his gentleness vanished without a trace. His fingers pressed down on Gu Qiao’s shoulders, his gaze boring into her.

At first Gu Qiao simply let him look at her. His stare made her tense all over — though he was only pressing firmly on her shoulders, it felt as though his gaze were running over her entire body with forceful hands. She tilted her head back to meet his gaze, and spoke word by deliberate word: “Next time you come back, you won’t need to explain why you like someone like me. I’ll just need to stand there, and people will know.”

Even if Luo Peiyin’s parents didn’t support this, she didn’t feel it mattered. When she was still an ungerminated seed, she couldn’t demand that everyone already see that she would grow into a sturdy tree — that was something she could only expect of a lover or family. For everyone else, she had to actually become the tree before they would believe it.

“There’s no need to explain even now.”

“But—”

After the word “but” left her mouth, her lips were caught between his. She had accepted more than one kiss, so this time she could sense by instinct what kind of kiss it was. She was quickly drawn into desire through biting and kneading and pressing and stimulation — and because it was not the first time, she knew clearly what that desire was pointing toward.

When her desire arrived, he suddenly grew unhurried, as if deliberately teasing. Luo Peiyin sat her on his knee and held her from behind, his chin brushing against her shoulder as he kissed the juncture of her ear, chin, and neck — the place that had already been established as her most sensitive spot. Her chest rose and fell visibly. He held her, feeling each rise and fall. Every time her breathing grew the slightest bit steadier, the pressure of his hand increased — he wouldn’t stop until he heard her breathing turn urgent again.

Luo Peiyin tilted Gu Qiao’s chin upward and kissed her mouth. She couldn’t help biting him back. When he stood up from the sofa with his arms around her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and was almost entirely suspended from him.

Later, Gu Qiao fell back onto the bed. She looked down and saw him nuzzling the swell of her chest, and he glanced up at her: “Didn’t you want to look down at me?” Gu Qiao thought of the small bird brooch Luo Peiyin had given her, and the feeling of that beak pecking at her finger. She gazed at him as though drinking glass after glass of wine, her face growing flushed from the drinking. He moved downward, slowly. Gu Qiao didn’t know whether the physical sensation was more overwhelming or the visual.

She was so overwhelmed she almost said stop. But the low cry that followed swallowed that word back. Even as Luo Peiyin pressed his fingers to her lips for her to bite down on.

Apart from his overcoat hanging on the rack, Luo Peiyin hadn’t undone a single button of his clothing. When he slowly raised his head, he seemed like a bystander watching Gu Qiao rise and fall in the waves, unable to stop herself. The waves battered her, with no telling where they would carry her. When at last she was swept to the destination she had been vaguely reaching toward, the color under each of her fingernails deepened, and she gripped the bedsheet beneath her — as if that were the only thing keeping her from being swept away entirely. She was too young, and in this particular regard, extraordinarily susceptible to temptation.

By the time Gu Qiao’s knees stopped trembling, she released his fingers from between her teeth. She lay with her mouth slightly open, letting her breathing settle. Luo Peiyin’s hand bore the full imprint of her bite marks. His fingers pressed to Gu Qiao’s lips — pressed firmly enough that her breathing grew urgent again. He slowly eased into the gap of her lips, his fingers resting against her teeth. Gu Qiao only turned her head slightly, eyes closed, lightly biting down — nothing like the earlier ferocity of bite after bite. By now she had reclaimed control of her own body.

When the tide had finally and completely subsided, Gu Qiao opened her eyes. She took his hand — covered in her teeth marks — and stroked it with some embarrassment. Luo Peiyin withdrew his hand from hers, pulled over the blanket and tucked it around her. He leaned close to her ear: “We don’t owe anyone an explanation for our relationship. But since I’ve already said I would tell them, I will.”

“Forget about meeting up this time if you don’t want to. Remember to lock the door.”

Luo Peiyin didn’t look at Gu Qiao again. His clothes remained perfectly neat as he entered the bathroom. On his way out, he took his overcoat from the rack, draped it over his arm rather than putting it on, and left.

Luo Peiyin returned home at the agreed time.

Luo Bo’an had almost forgotten that he had ever worried about his son. Since the boy had come of age, this was the first time he’d worried about him since he came back to China.

When he saw his son standing there in one piece, his concern largely dissolved. The boy didn’t look like someone with a problem he needed help solving. But if there were no problem, he also would never have come back so easily.

“Is there something you need to take care of this time? Have you run into any difficulties?”

“The city hasn’t opened international direct dialing yet. Regular landlines can’t make international calls. The country hasn’t connected to the World Wide Web yet either — apart from certain academic institutions, there’s no way to send emails internationally.”

Luo Bo’an waited for his son to continue. He wasn’t very familiar with the World Wide Web, but it was true that the lack of international direct dialing was a real problem.

What he didn’t expect to hear was his son saying: “Cross-border communication is too inconvenient. I couldn’t even get a birthday greeting there on time. So I needed to come back to China to celebrate my girlfriend’s birthday.”

“Your girlfriend is in China?” The key phrase was not “has a girlfriend” but “in China.” He’d never doubted that his son would have a girlfriend at this age. Being at the right age, not being a particularly unlikable person, and being lonely in a foreign country — it was only natural to fall in love.

“Do I know this girl?”

“Not only do you know her — you might even say you’re fairly familiar with her. Do you remember Gu Qiao?”

Luo Bo’an took a few seconds to confirm it was indeed the girl who called him “uncle-by-marriage”: “Gu Qiao? You — how could you?”

Different family backgrounds, different levels of education, different visions for the future — two such incompatible people ending up together could only be explained by his son acting on pure physical attraction. He didn’t think it was Gu Qiao who had seduced his son; it was more realistic to lower his opinion of his son’s moral character than his intelligence.

A rabbit doesn’t eat the grass near its own burrow. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t find another girlfriend — how could he pursue someone so close to home, a family relation at that? They weren’t blood-related, but what would outsiders think? Never mind outsiders — even he himself, hearing about it, found it deeply improper.

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