“I’m accompanying my mother on a shopping trip,” he explained. “Mom, this is Miss Qiu, an employee from the PR company we hired. She’s very capable.”
“Hello, Mrs. Gao,” I said, shaking her hand. Her smile was warm and kind, and her hands were delicate and pale.
“Hello,” she said politely.
“See you next time,” I said, bidding them farewell.
Gao Hai Ming carefully guided his mother into the department store. Their close relationship was evident.
Later, as I was leaving work, I saw the same light blue Mercedes parked outside the building. This time, Gao Hai Ming stepped out alone.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised.
“Do you have time? I’d like to take you to dinner,” he said.
“What about your mother?” I asked.
“She’s gone home,” he replied. “My car is being serviced, so I’m using this one. Sorry to inconvenience you.”
“It’s not an inconvenience at all,” I said with a laugh.
His driver took us to the Italian restaurant in Wan Chai.
“Shall we eat here?” Gao Hai Ming asked.
He ordered another angel hair pasta, but since I had tried it before and found it too bland, I chose wontons instead.
“Your mother looks very young,” I remarked.
“She’s sixty-one,” he said.
“Really? She doesn’t look it at all.”
“She’s thirty years younger than my father.”
“So your father is ninety-one? He had you when he was nearly sixty?”
“Sixty-three, to be exact. I’m twenty-eight now.”
“Then you look much older than your real age,” I teased him.
“My mother is my father’s third wife. She married him when she was twenty-eight.”
“Your father must have been very charming,” I said.
“He was incredibly handsome in his younger days. I’ve seen the photos from their wedding—he was dashing and elegant.”
“Your mother must have been attracted to his charm,” I suggested.
“She married him for money. She’s the eldest of ten siblings,” he admitted.
“Marrying someone you don’t love must be very painful,” I said.
“No. She eventually fell in love with him.”
“How did that happen?”
“She thought my father, being in his sixties, wouldn’t live beyond seventy. She expected to inherit his wealth and then find someone she truly loved. But my father lived to eighty-five, and by then, her own chances of finding love had diminished.”
“But you said she fell in love with him?”
“Yes. When my father was eighty-five, he suddenly had a stroke and was in a coma for two days. Until then, she had secretly hoped he’d die. But at that moment, she realized she didn’t want to lose him. She prayed to the heavens to spare his life. Spending twenty-five years by his side, she had unknowingly fallen in love with him.”
“And what happened to your father?”
“He recovered.”
“Well, that’s wonderful.”
“Not entirely. My father’s health began to deteriorate last year. My mother regrets not loving him sooner. Now that she wants him to live, he might leave her at any moment. She often says this is a lesson—that if you don’t love someone, don’t fall in love with them suddenly, because when you do, you’ll lose them. That’s heaven’s punishment,” he explained.
After dinner, Gao Hai Ming drove me home.
Suddenly, a thought struck me, and I stopped him.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, turning back.
“I’ve figured it out,” I said.
“Figured out what?”
“Why you love building model airplanes for others.”
“Why?” he asked, seeming genuinely puzzled.
“Because when your mother had you, she didn’t love your father. You weren’t born from love. So, by building models for those girls to give to their boyfriends, you insert yourself into their love stories to fill the void in your own life.”
Gao Hai Ming simply smiled.
On Christmas Eve morning, we had a party at the office.
Gao Hai Ming called.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Not bad,” I replied.
“I just wanted to check on you,” he said shyly. “Let’s talk next time. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” His tone was strange, as if he wanted to say something more but couldn’t.
Fifteen minutes later, the phone rang again—it was him.
“I forgot to tell you—I’m in Japan right now,” he said.
“Japan?” I was startled. I hadn’t expected him to call me long-distance.
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