Chapter 3

I was in no mood to guess.

But I could not withstand those eyes watching me, as damp as a cat caught in the rain, as gentle as a deer beside a stream.

Who could?

So I guessed. He was carrying a food box, which meant something to eat. In Suzhou’s rainy summer, when the dampness weighed on your heart, what did you crave most?

The answer was:

Chilled sweet rice wine.

I got it in one.

Lou Che applauded encouragingly and lifted the lid. Two bowls of chilled rice wine trembled inside, jasmine floating on the surface. He handed me a spoon. We each took a bowl and sat beneath the eaves, listening to the rain patter on the banana leaves and into the pond.

After two mouthfuls, he got busy. From a compartment in the food box, he took a rolled list of ornaments, blinds, and other furnishings for the bridal room Yang Bufan and I would share.

“Have a look. Is there anything else you’d like? I’ll buy it ahead of time.”

He held out the list. I shook my head.

His fingertips paused. He glanced at me, thought for a moment, and said, “How about a pair of beaded lanterns for the front of the bridal sedan? Miss Meng had a pair when she married, I remember. Didn’t you want some just like them?”

That was years ago.

“How do you still remember?” I turned to look at him.

Lou Che smiled. “What’s so difficult about that? I haven’t spent as much time with you as Bufan has, but we like so many of the same things.”

Picking cherries and azaleas in spring. Boating at Fengmen to admire the lotus flowers in summer. Climbing Tiger Hill in autumn to see the maple woods blaze red.

In winter, we seldom went out. We stayed in the courtyard, roasted chestnuts over the stove, and took a long afternoon nap to the sound of falling snow.

Four ordinary seasons when we were young. Once we grew up, such days would be hard to come by.

I smiled faintly and shook my head. “I won’t be able to live like that anymore.”

Lou Che looked surprised. “Why not?”

I was surprised too. “Because I’m getting married. I’ll be a grown woman, a wife and a mother. How could I go on playing like a child?”

Lou Che sat up straight. “Who told you that?”

So many people.

Yang Bufan, Mother, practically all my relatives said the same thing.

Especially Yang Bufan. He hated it when I behaved childishly. He said his wife had to act like the mistress of a household, keeping track of everything inside and out, great matters and small, and all the intricacies of dealing with people.

When I had pestered him about marrying me, he had raised his eyebrows and looked me over.

“You?”

When I stubbornly clung to his sleeve, his lips curled in a lazy, dismissive smile. “Fine. Marry me if you think you can stand it. But let’s get this clear: you’ll have to stop acting like a child. If you start rolling about and throwing tantrums, don’t expect me to coax you out of them.”

At the time, I thought I could do it.

Now I was no longer sure.

Could I really become a grown woman as perfect as Miss Meng?

But Lou Che said, “Not everyone has to turn into a grown-up the moment they marry.”

Enviously, I asked:

“Can anyone be that lucky?”

Lou Che nodded in earnest. His gaze fell on the marriage contract I had scribbled on in a fit of temper and thrown to the floor. Thoughtfully, he said in a low voice, “If you find someone who loves you, you don’t have to.”