I met you for the first time...
Lu Han cursed under his breath with chattering teeth. Why did he have to be an idiot and leave his umbrella in his suitcase?
The rain was really pouring down, as if his clothes and hair weren't soaked through enough. Rainwater dripped from his bangs haphazardly into his eyes, his dress shirt so thin that it was completely saturated through.
He concentrated his gaze on the ground, focusing on shuffling each, rain-soaked leather shoe forward. Not only could he feel water pooling in his socks, but the rain was weighing his shoes down so much they felt like heavy rocks attached to his feet.
His eyes landed upon a pair of dry, white sneakers, untouched by the storm.
"Don't tell me you forgot your umbrella at home," came a playfully amused voice. Lu Han looked up, ignoring how his sopping wet hair flopped onto his forehead like a soaked towel as he did so. A youthful face with mussed, uncombed hair stared back at him with slender eyes curved into crescents. Lu Han couldn't help but feel embarrassed. How ridiculous he probably looked- All dressed up and yet ruined by the rain. He despised the irony.
"Oh, you're that author, aren't you?"
Round, doe-like eyes narrowed. That author? If this guy knew who he was, he could have at least called him by his name.
"Yeah, that's me," Lu Han answered stiffly, as rainwater dripped from his bangs and into his mouth so that he spluttered while he spoke. He swore he heard a muted snicker. This... This kid was laughing at him!
"I can walk you back to your place if you want," the annoyance offered, still grinning stupidly, "My house is close to your's so it's no problem for me."
The corner of Lu Han's lips worked into a suspicious frown. "You know where I live?"
"Is that weird? Everyone in this town talks about you nonstop, so I end up hearing random things about you sooner or later. Yeah, it's kinda annoying."
"...Is that so?" Lu Han paused, irritation prickling at his skin. There was a reason he despised teenagers so much and maybe it was because he had been a teenager himself not too long ago that he knew exactly what it was like to be a sarcastic, egotistic nuisance who enjoyed making snide comments whenever he could. He was sure this kid was no different, with his know-it-all smirk.
"Yeah, fine," Lu Han agreed curtly, "I'll share your umbrella."
The attic wasn't Lu Han's first choice to set up his writing quarters. The place had been in terrible condition when Lu Han first laid on eyes on it. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs fluttered in every corner. It had taken him a full two hours just to scrub away all of the dirt and debris that clung to the wooden floorboards. But even despite of his efforts, the room was small and uncomfortable. Aside from the piles of boxes heaped underneath the lowest part of the attic's shallow, sloped roof, there was nothing else.
After three days of cleaning and organizing, Lu Han had managed to move all of his supplies into the cramped space in preparation for his writing. He had lain a blanket on the floor and settled a short, wooden table on top of it piled with his pencils, notebooks, and laptop computer. A cooler with bottled water and tangerines sat in one corner in case he needed snacks and a flashlight and heating fan sat in the other in case things became too dark or too cold.
And yet, Lu Han still found himself trapped in an all-too-familiar dilemna as he stared at the blank laptop screen in front of him. He had scrapped the idea he had thought up a few days before and found himself starting from scratch... Again.
The tired novelist rubbed his eyes. Even after he'd gone through such lengths to prepare himself, he still ran dry of ideas.
This mental block was so exasperating.
In frustration, Lu Han threw his head backward, accidentally striking a flimsy box with enough force to push it backwards and cause the whole stack to tumble to the ground with a thunderous crash. The whole column of boxes fell on its side, spilling its contents onto the ground in disorganized fashion. Lu Han turned around to see the damage behind him, rubbing the back of head, which stung from the impact.
It was apparent the boxes had held all kinds of objects accumulated throughout his old man's life: ancient photographs yellowed with age, rusted ornaments, binders full of notebook paper, and numerous sealed containers. Lu Han stared in awe at the amount of memorobilia that had been collected and stored in such a tiny space. As innate curiousity overcame him, Lu Han stepped over the pile of crumpled of boxes and knelt down amongst the mess, examining the photographs with childlike inquisition. His blank computer screen had been completely forgotten.
Lu Han opened his eyes, awakened from the warmth of the rising sun fanning onto his face. His neck ached terribly and he ran a hand through his bleached-golden hair, yawning as he came to his senses. He had remembered spending the rest of the night looking through his grandfather's boxes, admiring and inspecting each ornament carefully before placing them back where they came from. He had only gone through about half of the boxes before he'd fallen asleep in the attic, lying amongst the artifacts. Groggily, he reached for the object closest to him, a wide, flat box wrapped in cloth that seemed as if it hadn't been touched in years.
Leaning against the sloped wall, Lu Han uncapped the box to see it was full of pieces of paper folded into neat squares. A small placard made of gold sat on top of the papers with Property of the Lu Family inscribed neatly in the metal. He felt the cold plate in his fingers, then turned it over to see smaller text etched into its back.
Unreleased scriptures- Zhang Yixing
"Huh..." Lu Han sat up onto his knees, picking up one of the papers delicately. It was so thin it looked as if it would fall apart at his touch. Of course he was aware of who Zhang Yixing was, a celebrated scholar and artist of the Tang Dynasty whose descendents could be traced to that of Lu Han's family. Still, a whole box of unpublished scriptures kept secret under his family's name took him off guard. He wondered how much his grandfather had to pay to get such valuable artifacts into his possession.
He unfolded the paper and saw that at the very top a number was scribbled in with red sharpie marker.
28/136
Lu Han unfolded the next piece of paper, watching as the dust drifted lazily to the floor.
39/126
By the time he had finished unfolding and organizing every scripture in its proper numerical order, Lu Han had not left the attic in over 24 hours. As the sun began to set for the second time since he had been outside, sudden hunger struck the novelist like a sharp kick in the stomach.
Had it really been over 24 hours since he had last eaten?
Lu Han shrugged on his jacket, taking extra care to bring his umbrella as he walked to the cafe next door.
The first gulp of fresh air was heavenly. Lu Han felt the warm caress of the ocean breeze ruffle his hair and listened to the soothing ambience of rustling wind. With his laptop in hand, he entered the cafe and got to work, typing furiously on a blank document.
He stared incredulously at the pile of cakes, tarts, and biscuits that were piled in front of him and glanced up at the smiling Korean woman who seemed oblivious to his confusion.
"I, uh... I didn't order anything," he spluttered, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of food the woman had managed to pile onto his table that threatened to spill over the edge. Yoohye smiled until her eyes crinkled into crescents.
"It looked like you needed a break from working so hard, so I brought you these for free."
"Oh... Thanks," Lu Han nodded uncomfortably, feeling burdened by the free food and the curious stares he was getting from the other customers.
"It's no problem! Honestly, you're so thin, you really should eat more," Yoohye continued to gush excitedly, increasing Lu Han's level of discomfort, "My nephew was the one who got me to read your novel, he really loved it, obsessed over it a little bit. I swear, he'd bring that book with him everywhere. He's away doing deliveries, but the next time you've stopped by I'll call him down to meet you. I'm sure you two will get along well!"
Lu Han laughed awkwardly; he was never one to enjoy so much attention. Besides, he wasn't sure how to tell this woman that he rarely got along well with anyone. Her nephew would probably be no exception. Fortunately, Yoohye eventually left the table to continue serving customers, to Lu Han's relief. He worked on his outline for another fiftteen minutes, then left the cafe to head home.
The snacks on his table were left untouched.
I found some unpublished texts by Zhang Yixing in my grandfather's attic yesterday, a total of 126. I'm tempted to read through all of them, but they're so old so they might not last long. I bet I could sell them for thousands of dollars to a museum somewhere.
But I think I'll examine them first.
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