Bi Feiyu - Three Sisters

“Is that a translation from English?” she asked.

Guo Zuo smiled, but didn’t respond.

“It must be,” she said. “Otherwise I’d understand it.”

Again he smiled, but this time he nodded and said, “Yes, it is.” The girl’s not only pretty, he thought. But she possesses a sort of unlettered intelligence and a bit of unsophisticated cunning. Very interesting and quite amusing.

With the scorching sun shining in the yard, it had been an enjoyable afternoon, but the weather changed abruptly. Gusts of wind rose up, followed by a rainfall that quickly turned into a downpour. Large drops bounced off the ground and the kitchen roof, and the house was promptly shrouded in a dense mist that formed a watery curtain just beyond the living-room door.

Yuxiu reached out through the curtain; Guo Zuo walked up and stuck his hand out next to hers. The insane torrent stopped as quickly as it had begun; it had only rained for four or five minutes. The watery curtain was replaced by beads of water that fell one at a time, creating a tranquil, lingering, dreamlike aura. The brief rainsquall had cooled the air, a welcome respite from the heat. Yuxiu’s mind wandered, her arm still suspended in midair. Her thoughts were miles away; she seemed to be staring at her hand, but saw nothing, although her dark curly lashes blinked rhythmically in concert with the beads of water dripping from the roof and also created a tranquil, lingering, dreamlike aura. Then she came back down to earth.

She smiled at Guo Zuo through a veil of embarrassment that seemed to come out of nowhere, reddening her face, deeper and deeper, and forcing her to avert her eyes. She had, she felt, just taken a mysterious journey somewhere.

“I guess I should call you aunty,” Guo Zuo said. That simple statement reminded her that there was an established relationship between her and Guo Zuo—aunt and nephew. An aunt at her age? The question was: Did becoming his aunt bring them closer together or increase the distance between them? She mulled over the concept of “aunt”; to her it implied intimacy, and as it wound its way around her mind, she began to blush again. Afraid he would notice, but secretly hoping he might, she experienced feelings of elation mixed with threads of sadness that made her heart race.

Once the ice is broken, conversation comes more easily. And so it did for Yuxiu and Guo Zuo, who were able to talk comfortably about many things. Her favorite topics were urban life and movies, and he always had ready answers to her questions. She was bursting with curiosity. Guo Zuo could see that even though she was a country girl, she was ambitious and had an expansive mind—she was a bit on the wild side, having the sort of impudence typical of someone who has no desire to spend the rest of her life in farming villages. There was a deep yearning in her dark, exceedingly soft eyes, which were like the feathered wings of a night bird that, having no feet, does not know where to land. Yuxiu, who spoke only the local dialect, wanted him to teach her how to speak Putonghua, the national language.

“I can’t speak it either,” he said.

“I don’t believe you.” She cast him a sideways glance.

“Honest.”

“I said I don’t believe you.” She tried to look angry, but could not mask the look of reverence in her eyes as they swept over him. He, on the other hand, seemed flustered and appeared eager to leave. With her hands behind her back, Yuxiu blocked his way, shifting her body seductively.

“I really can’t,” Guo Zuo said, his voice taking on a serious tone. Yuxiu made no response. With a smile, he repeated insistently, “Honest, I really can’t.”

But Yuxiu would not give up. By now Putonghua was no longer the is - sue; what mattered was the conversation, which is what she’d wanted all along. But not Guo Zuo, who stood with a silly grin on his face, which she found irritating. She turned her back to him. “I don’t like you,” she said.

Though Guo Zuo could not be bothered by the fact that Yuxiu had stopped paying attention to him, it was not something he could simply put out of his mind. Those four words—“I don’t like you”—irritated him. It was the sort of irritation that confused him; it forced him to reflect on things and left him unsure of how he felt.

Whether he wanted to or not, he began noticing things about Yuxiu; during dinner that night he made a point of looking her way a time or two. That did not please Yuxiu. Actually, it distressed her. Knowing she had the temperament of a child, Guo Zuo reminded himself that he was a member of a unique family, and that it was important to avoid doing anything that made people unhappy.

The next day, after Yumi left for work, Guo Zuo placed his book in his lap and struck up a conversation with Yuxiu. “All right, I’ll teach you.”

Not only did Yuxiu not squeal with pleasure, but she let his offer pass without comment as she prepared some vegetables. Instead, she chatted about mundane personal things, such as whether or not he enjoyed living away from home, how he liked the food where he was, who did his laundry for him, and if he ever felt homesick. All grown-up matters that made her sound like a caring aunt, not at all like the day before. Guo Zuo wondered how she could be one person one day and someone else the next.

Since he had nothing special to do, he got up and stood beside her to help with the vegetables. She smacked the back of his hand, hard enough to make it sting. “Go wash your hands,” she said sternly. “This is my job, not yours.”

That stopped Guo Zuo, but only for as long as it took him to catch her meaning; he washed his hands. When she was finished, she washed up, walked over to him, and put out her hand.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

“Slap it.”

Guo Zuo bit his lip. “Why?”

“I slapped yours a minute ago, so now you slap me back.”

That made him smile broadly. “Forget it,” he said.

“No.”

“I said forget it.” He drew the words out.

Yuxiu stepped closer and said, “No.”

Her tone was sly and capricious, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with her. That excited him. Now he had only one option—do as she said. This was beginning to look like playing house, except that it was a flirtatious game. After he slapped her hand, Yuxiu took the cigarette out of his other hand, put it up to her lips, and breathed in a mouthful of smoke. Then she shut her eyes and mouth to send two identical streams of smoke slowly out of her nose. The smoke lingered in the air as she returned the cigarette, opened her eyes, and said, “Did I look like a secret agent?”

He found that strange. “Why would you want to be a secret agent?”

“Because they can be so alluring,” she said in a hushed voice that carried a touch of mystery. “Who wouldn’t want to be someone that gorgeous?” She was not joking, and danger now seemed to lurk somewhere between them.

Guo Zuo reacted nervously, but was more aroused than ever. He tried to sound serious, but did not do a very good job. Somewhat paternally, he said, “Keep talk like that in the house.”

Yuxiu laughed. “I don’t need you to tell me that,” she said. Then she said charmingly, “For your ears only.” Her conspiratorial tone implied a special bond, a closeness and mutual understanding between them.

Her eyes widened. “You won’t tell your father what I just said, will you?” she asked nervously.

His smile failed to allay her fears. She wanted a promise.

“Let’s take a vow,” she said, holding out her thumb to seal the deal. “A hundred years of silence.” She linked his pinkie with hers. One hundred years sounded too long, so she changed the vow: “Let’s say ‘fifty years of silence.’” This had the appearance of a pledge of faithfulness, which obviously pleased them both. Their thumbs separated, but the feeling persisted and led to melancholy, followed by a barrage of disconnected thoughts.