◎ An Old Acquaintance ◎

Room 510 had leather jackets hanging everywhere, and pinned to the wall was a large photograph of a model wearing one. The model was an ordinary student from a drama academy. Hiring the model alone had cost Gu Qiao three hundred yuan — slightly above the going rate by a few dozen — though hiring a moderately well-known actor would have run at least a thousand.

Gu Qiao had originally had more than one option, but the moment she noticed that the model’s build was five or six parts similar to Luo Peiyin’s, she made her decision on the spot.

Gu Qiao put the photographs to full use — she had them posted on the door, throughout the room, and even the yellow Dafa parked in front of the hotel was plastered all over with leather jacket advertisements bearing the photographs.

Three days after Luo Peiyin left for America, Gu Qiao had sold every last leather jacket stockpiled in the room — a total profit of forty thousand yuan.

Mrs. Luo did end up calling Zhou Zan. The call lasted only ten seconds. She told Zhou Zan over the phone that Gu Qiao’s birthday was in March.

That was all she said. A day later, Zhou Zan called Mrs. Luo back and told her that as long as Gu Qiao agreed, she could immediately enroll in the accelerated undergraduate program run by Z University — starting from high school level and completing a full degree.

At the time, Gu Qiao was sitting in Room 510 thinking through how to get her advertisements out to a wider audience, when her pager went off. She called back immediately — it was her aunt by a different branch of the family.

Over the phone, Mrs. Luo asked Gu Qiao to come by the Luo household. The younger cousins wanted to see her, and there was something she needed to tell her.

“Auntie, I don’t have time this month. I’ll come by once I get through this busy stretch.”

“Are you still running your clothing business?”

“Something like that.” Gu Qiao didn’t think her aunt had much interest in her business and didn’t elaborate.

“Now that the family debt has been paid off, you should be putting more thought into your own future. You should know that a family like Peiyin’s could never accept a self-employed businesswoman as a daughter-in-law. Love affairs and marriage are two different things entirely. Even if his feelings don’t change, in a family like theirs, he may not have the final say.”

Gu Qiao’s attention drifted for a moment. She hadn’t wanted to meet in person, but Luo Peiyin had apparently told his family.

She shifted her tone to something lighter: “What’s wrong with being self-employed? The government is actively encouraging people to go into business right now. Surely Uncle wouldn’t oppose the current policy direction, would he?”

Mrs. Luo didn’t catch the dry humor in Gu Qiao’s tone and only found her naïve: “People used to call on everyone to learn from the peasants — and what happened to that? People need to think long-term. Especially for a young girl, opportunity may only come once. Don’t make the wrong step — one misstep leads to another, and by the time you regret it, it’s too late. You must have seen examples of this.” As she spoke, Mrs. Luo thought of herself — a girl with no backing who wanted to establish herself here had to tread every step with fearful caution, as though walking on thin ice. She continued: “There’s an opportunity now. You could go to Z University to study…”

Almost instinctively, Gu Qiao asked: “This wasn’t arranged through Zhou Zan, was it…”

There was sudden silence on the other end of the line, and in that silence, Gu Qiao had her confirmation.

She drew a slow breath. “Auntie, our whole family wants nothing to do with Zhou Zan. I thought I had made my position clear before. If I wasn’t clear enough, I’ll say it again now.”

“Do you really think I’m doing this for myself?” If in the past she had gone to Zhou Zan to sort out matters for Gu Qiao’s work, it had been because of a shared history — turning to anyone else would have inevitably dragged that history into the open. But now she was going to Zhou Zan to obtain long-overdue compensation for her cousin. She knew that Zhou Zan would willingly compensate his own biological daughter.

Mrs. Luo assumed Gu Qiao already knew the nature of her relationship with Zhou Zan: “He owes a debt to you and your mother — it’s only right that he make amends. If you truly resent him, if you truly want to reclaim something for your mother’s sake, you should be striving to live better than him and his daughter, not letting your pride ruin your own future. His daughter, by the way, has been keeping her eyes firmly on Peiyin — she’s even considering going to America on his account. People only see the middle of the story, never the ending. You marry Peiyin, you live better than him — then he’ll regret the day he failed to claim you as his daughter. Otherwise, he’ll spend the rest of his life grateful that he didn’t end up with your mother, certain that his success today depended on that choice…”

*She was Zhou Zan’s daughter.* There it was again — confirmed once more, this time through her aunt.

Gu Qiao stood holding the receiver, her gaze drifting to the window. True spring had arrived at last; the willows had put out their new leaves.

“Of course I will live better than him. You don’t need to worry about that. My family and I want nothing from him by way of compensation. If you speak with him again, please pass along a message: I am deeply, profoundly grateful to him — for having the good sense to disappear from my mother’s life in time. And I would ask him to disappear from mine as well.”

Without waiting for her aunt’s reply, Gu Qiao ended the call with a simple “Goodbye.”

Gu Qiao picked up the thermos flask and poured water into her cup. It was only when water began running over the edge of the table that she realized the cup had already overflowed.

The doorbell rang. Lou Deyu walked in the moment the door opened: “The advertisements we stuck in the elevator have been cleared away again.”

The ones posted on doors could only be seen on a single floor. In order to reach more eyes, Gu Qiao had been posting advertisements written in Chinese, Mongolian, and Russian in every available space inside the elevator.

“But it’s alright — I’ve thought of another way.”

“What way, Dad?”

“They can clear away the advertisements, but they can’t clear away a person. I’ll just stand in the elevator every day holding the advertisement board. If anyone shows interest, I’ll bring them straight up to 510 — saves us from having customers get intercepted along the way. How does that sound?” Before Luo Peiyin left, he had made a point of telling Lou Deyu not to let Gu Qiao take any unnecessary risks, and to call him if they were ever short on money or ran into any real trouble. Deyu had felt conflicted hearing that — her own father was right here; could he not handle anything without some boy with no blood relation stepping in? Though he very much wanted to go home, knowing Gu Qiao was in the thick of a busy stretch, he rang home and told them he would stay on a while longer to keep her company.

“That’s a good idea. But won’t you get tired, standing in the elevator all day?”

“What’s tiring about that? If I get tired, I’ll bring a stool and sit in the elevator. I’m telling you, there’s no easier job than this.”

From that day on, Deyu practically took up permanent residence in the elevator.

Deyu had his hair freshly cut, changed into the new leather shoes Gu Qiao had given him, and layered one of the leather jackets she was selling over the sweater she had bought him — a living, breathing advertisement. He stood in the elevator displaying the trilingual advertisement boards Gu Qiao had made in Chinese, Mongolian, and Russian. At the same time, he took over the job of operating the elevator: whenever someone came in, he’d ask what floor they wanted and press the button for them. While pressing the button, he quietly took note of the person’s details. His manner was so convincing he might have been a hotel-hired elevator operator.

He rode up and down all day alongside the guests, encountering several hundred foreign visitors daily, spreading the advertisement by sheer presence. When someone showed interest and struck up a conversation, Deyu would repeat the few phrases of Russian Gu Qiao had taught him: “Room 510 has large quantities of leather jackets — come quickly if you want some.”

Business started coming to them on its own. With only three people working, they barely had a moment’s rest. On their best day, Gu Qiao sold four thousand leather jackets. Sourcing the goods, writing up receipts, packaging, and collecting payment — when it was all over, Gu Qiao collapsed into a chair and watched the sunlight pour in through the window. Looking at the figures on the checks in that golden light, even the pervasive smell of leather oil filling the room seemed almost pleasant.

Gu Qiao had promised to treat Peng Zhou to a meal at Maxim’s, but business had been too hectic; it was only that evening that a small window of time finally opened. Of course, she couldn’t invite Peng Zhou and leave her own father behind.

Deyu’s entire knowledge of Maxim’s came from snippets of conversation he had overheard on trains. He had once wandered past the restaurant entrance during his time loitering around the railway station. Now, thinking only of saving money, he said: “You go on ahead — I’d rather have some simple home-cooked food.”

Gu Qiao knew Deyu was trying to save money: “Home cooking will be there any time. This time, I’m treating you. The next time Mom, my sister, and Grandma come to visit, I’ll treat them too. Dad, don’t worry — I won’t let you eat alone.”

The restaurant was on the second floor. The corridor was lined with photographs of various celebrities dining there. Though it was Deyu’s first visit, reminding himself that he mustn’t let his daughter down, he showed no particular interest in the photographs as they passed.

On the second floor, a waiter led them further inside. Twenty-two years had passed, but because Zhou Zan had never stopped appearing in newspapers, Deyu recognized him at a glance. Seated at his table were a middle-aged woman and a young girl — almost certainly his wife and child.

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