Qiu Yun didn't dare disbelieve him. The moment they stepped out of the library, she asked, "Two hundred US dollars?"
Liang He nodded, wearing the air of a man who had achieved greatness but kept it well-hidden.
"Ah... then that really is..." Qiu Yun did the math in her head. That was a massive sum of money! She wasn't sure what the exchange rate was in this era, but a rough calculation put it at over a thousand yuan.
In 1988, what did a thousand yuan represent?
Had you heard of a "ten-thousand-yuan household"? In this era, being a "ten-thousand-yuan household" was... a truly formidable title. It meant you were a tycoon, a member of the nouveau riche.
A thousand yuan was essentially one-tenth of a "ten-thousand-yuan household."
To put it in perspective for Qiu Yun: in this era, a Forever or Phoenix brand bicycle cost about a hundred yuan; a Shanghai-brand black-and-white television was around three hundred; a sugar popsicle was five cents, a mung bean popsicle was fifteen cents, a Blue Sky soda was fifty cents, and a nice meal for three at a restaurant would run about twenty yuan.
A thousand yuan... was that enough to buy a plot of land and build a house in the countryside?
In short, it was a windfall! A literal fortune from the heavens!
"Hey, hey, hey, be careful. Don't fall again." Someone grabbed Qiu Yun by the arm, otherwise she surely would have taken another classic face-plant.
"Oh, oh, thank you," Qiu Yun said, wiping the imaginary drool from the corner of her mouth, her eyes sparkling. "Professor Liang, you've... you've struck it rich! Ah, then you have to treat me to something delicious! Hahahaha..."
Qiu Yun’s nonsensical, giddy delight was infectious. Liang He couldn't help but smile. "What do you want to eat? Just say the word."
"Revolving 1515! No. 7 Bund! Or Donghu No. 1!" Without thinking, Qiu Yun blurted out the names of the three most atmospheric, delicious, and expensive restaurants in City A—all places she had wanted to visit before but could never afford.
When she finished, Liang He looked utterly bewildered. Then, it clicked for Qiu Yun—those three restaurants wouldn't open until after 2015. Where was she supposed to find them now?
She felt a sudden wave of deflation. In this era, even McDonald’s was considered a high-end foreign luxury. A "grand feast" probably only existed in state guesthouses.
But Liang He took her seriously. "The restaurants you mentioned... forget visiting them, I haven't even heard of them. Have you been to them all?"
Qiu Yun tried to cover her tracks. "No, I... I just heard my grandfather... mention them randomly before. I don't know if they actually exist..."
"Speaking of your grandfather..." Liang He shifted the topic, his voice full of concern. "Still no news?"
Qiu Yun thought her brain must have been caught in a door; she was digging a hole for herself with every sentence. She hurried to fill it. "No, it's fine. Professor Liang, I'm actually a bit hungry. Why don't we just grab something casual outside the school gates?"
"Something casual? Won't you call me stingy then?" Liang He joked.
"Ha!" Qiu Yun laughed. She suddenly remembered thirty years later, when Liang He was truly their university professor. He had been quite generous with his students then. Every time he returned from abroad, he would bring back little novelties—not very expensive, but very interesting. She remembered one time he came back from the UK and brought a thick pencil for every student in the class. It had eight colors in one; you could produce different hues by tilting it at different angles. Qiu Yun had loved it; it was perfect for sketching. She had lost it later somehow, which she regretted for a long time.
Looking at the Liang He before her, so earnest it was almost cute, she began to giggle.
"What are you laughing at?"
Qiu Yun didn't know what she was laughing at either. She waved a hand. "Nothing, nothing..."
Liang He felt a bit self-conscious from her laughter. "How about... we go to 'Utopia'?"
***
"Utopia" was the underground bar Liang He had taken her to last time, located on Phoenix Street. Liang He wheeled his bicycle out from the office stairwell—an old-fashioned "28-inch" bike. It had no rear seat, only the horizontal crossbar in front. Staring at that crossbar, scenes from movies involuntarily surfaced in Qiu Yun's mind—the girl sitting on the front bar, the boy pedaling while embracing her from behind, a gentle breeze blowing, the girl's hair teasingly brushing against the boy's face... the one in front shy and restless, the one behind riding with a wandering heart...
On this intoxicating spring night, Qiu Yun’s expression turned subtly dreamy.
"Hey, Qiu Xiaoyun, what are you thinking about?" A hand waved in front of her eyes. "You ride this one. See if the seat height is okay."
"Ah..." Qiu Yun snapped back to reality.
Liang He placed a different bicycle in front of her.
"What are you dazing off for? Try it."
Black metal frame. Cold. Hard. Heartless.
Qiu Yun climbed on and kicked off the kickstand.
***
Today was Thursday, which meant it was folk music night. When Liang He led Qiu Yun inside, a soothing melody was being performed on stage. They had just found a booth and sat down when someone approached uninvited. Qiu Yun remembered him as the student from University B they had met last time, though she had forgotten his name.
"Hey, Brother Liang!" the man greeted warmly. "Haven't seen you in a while."
Liang He nodded to him. "You're here today too?"
"I work here whenever I'm free." He turned to Qiu Yun, acting as if they were old friends. "You came today too?"
Qiu Yun gave a polite, fake smile and hummed in affirmation.
Liang He said, "This is Li Tao, remember? We met him last time. He's in the Chemistry Department at University B."
Qiu Yun put on a look of sudden realization. "Hello, hello."
Li Tao pulled out a stool. "I definitely remember you, Qiu Xiaoyun, right? A name as memorable as the person... like a white cloud floating in the autumn sky... how poetic..."
Liang He kicked his stool. "Waiter, go get us two glasses of water."
Li Tao burst out laughing. "Are we having Jianlibao again today?"
Liang He looked at Qiu Yun, letting her decide.
Qiu Yun asked, "What else do you have besides Jianlibao?"
"Coke, Tang, Sprite..." Li Tao listed them off like a pro. "We have plain boiled water too, if you want. Besides drinks, we recently launched food. We call it 'night snacks'—it's very popular over in Hong Kong."
"What kind of food?"
"Today's menu is spaghetti. Have you heard of it?"
"Spaghetti?" Qiu Yun’s interest was piqued. She couldn't imagine what spaghetti in an underground bar in 1988 would look like.
"Want to try it?" Liang He asked her.
Qiu Yun nodded.
"Two orders."
"Coming right up," Li Tao said with a grin. "My two patrons, what else would you like to drink? The standard pairing for spaghetti is red wine."
He even knew that? Qiu Yun was amused. She looked at Liang He. Before he could react, Li Tao, fearing they didn't understand, rushed to pitch it: "Red wine isn't really 'liquor'; it's more like a sweet drink. Have you had fermented rice water? It's just like that, except the foreigners' version is red and ours is white."
Liang He thought to himself, *Who are you kidding?* How could red wine be the same as fermented rice water? It wasn't like he'd never had it. He initially wanted to refuse and stick to Jianlibao, but seeing Qiu Yun’s expectant eyes fixed on him, he couldn't bring himself to say no. The words left his mouth before his brain could stop them: "Let's try the red wine."
He regretted it the moment he said it. Qiu Yun was only a sophomore; how could he take her out for drinks? He was about to change his mind, but Li Tao had already scribbled the order on his notepad and dashed off.
Liang He cleared his throat and said to Qiu Yun, "Just have a taste later. Don't drink too much."
Qiu Yun feigned innocent curiosity. "Why?"
"Or should I order you a different drink?" Liang He asked.
Just then, the song ended, and the audience erupted in warm applause. Qiu Yun pretended not to hear Liang He’s last sentence and turned to watch the excitement.
Feeling a bit awkward, Liang He looked down and straightened the slightly crooked straw on the table.
The songs here were mostly original, featuring acoustic guitar chords and the occasional accompaniment of a harmonica or drums, carrying a strange, faint melancholy. Qiu Yun suddenly felt curious and turned to ask Liang He, "Have you ever written a song?"
Liang He hadn't expected the question. He paused before saying, "I have."
"When can I hear one?"
"They're not very good," Liang He said with a shy smile, looking down to fiddle with the straw again. "Just practice pieces."
"Modest."
Liang He smiled but didn't argue.
Then he asked, "Do you play the guitar?"
"No, I told you last time. I don't know the first thing about music."
"It's very simple. Do-re-mi-fa-so, you know those?"
Qiu Yun covered her mouth and laughed. "I know them, but it's too hard. Next time you write a tune, I'll help you write the lyrics."
"You can write lyrics?" Liang He looked up at her.
"It's just a word game," Qiu Yun said nonchalantly. "I've never done it, but I can give it a try. As long as the last word of every line rhymes, and the theme... well, as long as it doesn't violate the Core Socialist Values, it should be fine."
"The what values?" Liang He didn't understand.
Qiu Yun wanted to laugh again.
At that moment, Li Tao arrived with the food.
"Enjoy your meal, you two..." He made a gentlemanly flourish with his hand.
Qiu Yun looked down, and her eyes nearly popped out of her head.
This wasn't spaghetti at all. It was clearly the *zajiang* noodles sold at the stall by the West Gate—two ounces of noodles topped with some minced meat and a few sprigs of green onion for garnish. It had absolutely nothing to do with "Italy."
Between laughter and tears, she asked Li Tao, "This is spaghetti?"
Li Tao nodded solemnly. "Yes. Please, enjoy."
She looked across at Liang He. "Have you ever had spaghetti?"
Liang He shook his head. "No." But as he looked at the noodles, his brow furrowed slightly, and he couldn't help but remark, "It looks... not much different from Chinese noodles."
Qiu Yun wanted to say that real spaghetti was rounder, had no broth, used a meat sauce, and didn't have this many leafy greens. But the words reached her lips and she decided to let it go. It wasn't often Liang He treated her to "Western" food; she didn't want to spoil the mood.
By the looks of it, those two glasses of red wine probably weren't authentic either. She picked up the tall glass and took a sip, but to her surprise, the wine was genuine. It was a bit sharp at first, but that was quickly replaced by a pleasant, fruity sweetness.
Qiu Yun took a rather large gulp. On an empty stomach, she let out a very unladylike burp.
"What's the rush?" Li Tao chuckled at the sight and handed her a napkin with an understanding look. "Red wine is meant to be savored slowly, not chugged like a bottle of beer."
Qiu Yun was speechless. The logic of this establishment was truly bizarre—the noodles were "Chinese style," yet the wine was the real deal.
Liang He took her glass and poured most of it into his own, leaving her only a tiny bit. "Just a taste. Don't drink too much."
Perhaps the alcohol was hitting her quickly, but in the dim light, Qiu Yun thought Liang He looked very gentle. Still, she argued, "What's wrong with having some?"
Liang He changed the subject. "Eat your spaghetti quickly, before it gets soggy."
Qiu Yun picked up her fork and took a bite. It was authentic Chinese *zajiang* noodles.
"When are you going to Florence?"
Liang He thought for a moment. "Late May."
"Tell me what real spaghetti tastes like when you get back," Qiu Yun said mysteriously.
Hearing "Florence," Li Tao plopped down on a seat, his eyes wide with curiosity. "What's this? Brother Liang, you're going to Florence?"
"Yes."
"How did you land such a sweet deal? Is it for an event?"
"Brother Liang's painting won an international gold medal," Qiu Yun chimed in. "He's going to receive the award—oh wait, no, it's a forum. Are you giving a speech?"
"That's amazing!" Li Tao jumped up and slapped the table, drawing stares from nearby tables. He sheepishly rubbed the spot he'd hit and continued in a hushed, excited voice, "My Brother Liang is the best! Florence... sounds so familiar. Which country is that again?"
"Italy," Liang He said, perfectly calm.
"Italy... ah, that's a capitalist country..." Li Tao grabbed Liang He’s arm, his expression a mix of caution and warning. "I've heard capitalism corrupts people easily. Brother Liang, you have to stay strong."
Liang He shook off Li Tao’s hand. "When did you start minoring in acting? I'm just going to take a look, to broaden my horizons."
"Is there money involved?" Li Tao asked, hitting the nail on the head.
Liang He nodded calmly.
"How much?"
Liang He didn't speak. Li Tao turned his gaze to Qiu Yun. Qiu Yun looked at Liang He; he wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin and gave a nonchalant smile.
Qiu Yun held up two fingers.
"Twenty?"
"No."
"Two hundred?"
Qiu Yun nodded slowly.
"Ah! That much!" Li Tao lost control of his volume again, and the neighboring table looked over once more. He quickly ducked his head and whispered, "That much money?! How many trays do I have to carry to earn that much..."
Qiu Yun and Liang He shared a knowing smile: if he knew it was in US dollars, his reaction would probably be even more exaggerated.
"No wonder you're being so generous with Western food today..." Li Tao muttered, then added, "Does Sister Xia Lan know about this?"
Qiu Yun’s movements slowed as she ate her noodles.
Liang He lowered his head to pick at his noodles. "She probably will." Then, for some reason, he added, "I haven't been in touch with her for a long time."
Li Tao was still immersed in his excitement. "Well, she'll definitely be very happy for you." Having said that, he nudged Liang He’s shoulder and asked with a sly, inquisitive look, "Can you bring family? If you can, are you going to tell her?"
Liang He: "No."
After saying that, for some reason, he glanced up at Qiu Yun across from him.
Qiu Yun said nothing, keeping her head down as she sipped the red wine.
Li Tao, still oblivious, continued his fantasy. "Brother Liang, then what kind of even better food would you treat Sister Xia Lan to?"
Caught off guard, Liang He failed to swallow a noodle, and it went straight down his windpipe.
He coughed twice, hurriedly covering his mouth with a napkin. Across from him, Qiu Yun tilted her head back and drained the last drop of red wine into her mouth.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 万元户 | Ten-thousand-yuan household | A term used in 1980s China to describe the newly wealthy. |
| 永久 | Forever | A famous Chinese bicycle brand. |
| 凤凰 | Phoenix | A famous Chinese bicycle brand. |
| 上海牌 | Shanghai brand | A well-known brand of electronics/watches in old China. |
| 蓝天汽水 | Blue Sky Soda | A local soda brand. |
| 二八自行车 | 28-inch bicycle | A standard heavy-duty bicycle common in 20th-century China. |
| 乌托邦 | Utopia | The name of the underground bar. |
| 健力宝 | Jianlibao | A popular orange-flavored sports drink in China. |
| 果真 | Tang / Guozhen | An instant orange drink powder (brand name Tang). |
| 杂酱面 | Zajiang noodles | Noodles with minced meat sauce. |
| 醪糟 | Fermented rice water / Laozao | A sweet, fermented glutinous rice dish/drink. |
| 夏兰 | Xia Lan | A female character mentioned by Li Tao. |
| 社会主义核心价值观 | Core Socialist Values | An anachronism used by the protagonist (modern political term). |
