[fic] Letters From The Edge Of The World
//Pairing//: Lay x Luhan
//Prompt//: Long-distance
//Rating//: PG
//Summary//: Yixing writes stream-of-consciousness letters to Luhan that tell a rather more different story than the one he intends to.
//Word Count//: 2,443
//Author’s Note//: Hover over the Chinese text for translations. Now with added postcards! Image credits to their respective owners.
Originally posted here as part of the justgetlayd Bingo Round 2 Challenge.
Tottenham Court Road, Tuesday, 19 February 2013
Dear Luhan
I’m writing this letter to you from my hotel room, about ten minutes past midnight. It looks out onto Tottenham Court Road and is just two doors down from a small shop selling fish and chips.
After dinner, I went for a walk down Oxford Street, and though the bright lights of the stores gave me a headache after a short while, I found a small cafe run by this really nice Korean lady. I stopped there for a while to hide out from the cold night air and have a cup of coffee. The coffee wasn’t bad either.
Anyway, I should tell you about my journey so far. I got in at Heathrow Airport this morning at about 5, just in time to see the sun rise. Technically, that is. I was riding the airport shuttle into London at the time, trying to find my way to my hotel. That is no mean feat when you’re carrying a heavy suitcase full of stuff, I tell you! However, staying in a hotel is fancy, but expensive, so I was contemplating looking up a couple of old friends who are currently studying here. I can spend my days wandering around and sleep on the couch at night. I think it might work - this city is so much more interesting when you’re exploring out-of-doors anyway.
That’s a problem for another day though. Wish me luck?
I guess now would be a good time to tell you that I miss you already. Terribly. You’ll probably laugh and say that it’ll get better with time, but I beg to differ, because how do you quell the feeling in your chest when the only place I want to be is by your side?
Making this trip was to help me find myself. Xiaolu. Help me find the answer, please.
Love
Yixing
p/s: Tomorrow should I go to Big Ben first, or the London Eye?
p/p/s: I bought the fish and chips for my dinner tonight, by the way. It was pretty awesome.
p/p/s: I’ve put my home address in Changsha as the return address. I don’t really trust the postal service these days.
Leicester Square to Westminster, Wednesday, 20 February 2013
Hi Xiaolu
I ventured a little further down the road from my hotel this morning, and before I knew it, I found myself in London’s Chinatown.
On the way there, I passed all these people trying to sell me tickets to go see shows on London’s Broadway. I admit that for a minute I actually seriously thought about buying a ticket, just to see what it was like. And because I was feeling homesick. Broadway is famous for its musicals after all, and I thought that losing myself to 3 hours’ worth of music and fantasy might help ease some of the longing in my heart. But then it was nearing lunchtime, and I got lured in by the smell coming from a nearby Chinese restaurant.
Bad move. The food was pretty awful (and spicy! Why didn’t the 阿姨 forewarn me?), but, because it was made by the hand of a Chinese cook (I think), it helped ease the homesickness a bit. I left the restaurant with a heavy feeling in my chest, and almost bought a sweet potato from the Chinese supermarket, because I missed… eating… sweet… potatoes. I can’t honestly even remember when I last ate a sweet potato, but there you go, I guess. Sometimes the human mind works in funny ways.
From there, I wandered down to Trafalgar Square to the National Portrait Gallery. That place is chock full of paintings of famous people. Well, I had no idea who anyone in that gallery was, but they were somehow famous all the same. I don’t remember much about it, except that it was very quiet and I looked long and hard at each portrait, studying the upward curves of lips and the blues and browns of eyes. I tried to sit and make a sketch of a particularly interesting looking portrait, but all I had was notepaper, and I couldn’t find the right focus inspiration.
After another half an hour of walking down a long corridor lined with portraits I had to get out - I realized that the reason I was looking so hard was because I was hoping to find a little inkling of you in each one (I failed).
Not to be disheartened, I made a quick trip to Westminster, to the famous Big Ben and then down to the river for a trip on the London Eye. They made me wait a long time to get on it, but it was worth it in the end when I found myself facing a bird’s eye view of London. I could see far, far over the horizon, to where the sky meets the sea. It was absolutely beautiful - although you would probably have hated it - so just believe me when I say it was pretty.
I tried to count back to see what time it would be in Beijing, but I couldn't decide if it was 7 or 8 hours' difference. I thought about it for a bit more, then I realized that the time difference probably didn’t matter. For the duration of the ride I looked out as far as I could over the horizon and hoped that somehow, wherever you were, you could see me too.
It's starting to rain now. Seems like it rains a lot here.
Anyway, keep well.
Yixing
p/s: As you can see, I decided to go to both places in the end.
p/p/s: Last year, with my 汤圆. That’s when I last ate sweet potatoes. Proud of me and my memory yet? ^^
Greenwich Village, Thursday, 28 February 2013
Dear Luhan
The middle of the world is here!
I mean, the International Date Line is here. I’m standing on it right now, so it’s 11 am on one side of the line, and noon on the other side of the line. Isn’t that crazy? The little information plaque in the Meridian Courtyard tells me that this is Longitude 0°0' 0”, and before you ask, it doesn’t feel like anything particularly special (no fireworks or special effects when you cross the line, I checked). Although really, it must be, because time is such a precious commodity to us mere mortals. How funny it is, to be able to hop over a line and lose 60 minutes, then hop back over and gain it right back again.
But then I suppose that sometimes once time is gone, there isn’t any way to get it back. 岁月不留人, right?
Speaking of the middle of the world. Our ancestors were horribly wrong for thinking China was the middle, because surprise, someone else half a world away had the exact same idea, and built a magnificent observatory to commemorate it too. This place is pretty magnificent, but then again, so is the Great Wall, so I’m not quite sure where I’m going with this train of thought here.
I walked around the village after I finished this bit of sightseeing, thinking about how time is a man-made construct that we align our lives to - seconds, minutes, hours, days - when in the end, it isn't exactly clear what it all means. Time is the only commodity that we have less and less of as we try to amass more and more of everything else during the course of our lives. Isn’t that funny? At the end of it, all you have are empty hands. Empty hands, and a really long trip to go far, far away.
You are currently far away from me too. I wonder how you’re doing.
It’s been more than a week since I last wrote you. I should update you on what’s happened since then. An old friend from high school, Ayuan, is in London studying to be a doctor. She lives near Paddington Station (yes, like the bear). I moved out of the hotel and into her living room the day after my last letter and I’ve been there ever since. She’s nice, but she isn’t around much because she runs shifts at St. Mary’s Hospital. I’m okay though, with being alone for most of the day. I probably should tell you that I’ve booked my return ticket as well. I’ll be back home in Changsha by April.
I hope this message gets to you safe, and that you’re taking care of yourself.
Don’t make me worry.
Love
Yixing
The Barbican Centre, Sunday, 3 March 2013
Dear Luhan
I stood outside the Barbican (which is a gallery, not how the Englishmen pronounce barbecue) for quite some time this afternoon, wolfing down my chicken mayonnaise sandwich before heading in. That’s such unbecoming behavior, right? I could practically hear you chuckling at me for giving in to the hunger pangs and buying lunch right before going in to view the exhibit. Art is enjoyed better on an empty stomach, I should think, all the better to build up an appetite after. But I was hungry, not having eaten anything the whole day, and the sandwich smelt like a creamy piece of heaven.
I walked straight into the middle of the Rain Room without getting a drop of water on me. 100 square meters of artificial rain. It was magical, I tell you, even though the humidity in that place was so high I could almost feel my hair starting to fuzz up. I just closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the water falling around me, imagining that I was back in the pagoda in the park near my parents’ home in Changsha. Did you know that I always ended up there when I got caught in the rain on the way back home from school? I never remembered to bring an umbrella with me, so during the rainy season I would try to take a shortcut across the park to get back home before the rain began. I guess I never really succeeded, since I always ended up doing my homework in the pagoda, wringing out my soggy socks and waiting for the rain to stop.
Anyway, back to the Rain Room. When I opened my eyes again, I could have sworn I saw you standing in the darkness at the far end, looking straight back at me. I hurried over, but it must have been a trick of the light, because when I got to the other end, there was no one there but me.
The mist from the rain was getting in my eyes, so I left and went out to get some fresh air. The lady at the information desk told me that after today, the Rain Room would be closed. I guess it was kind of lucky to get to experience it on the very last day.
Last days are always a little bit bittersweet, aren't they?
Yixing
p/s: Perhaps there was something weird about the sandwich, because my stomach felt all funny and I didn’t feel quite so hungry after that.
p/p/s: Maybe you were right. Chicken mayonnaise isn’t so good for me after all.
South Bank, Sunday, 24 March 2013
Dear Luhan
Spring is coming. I can smell it in the air.
I walked through the rain along the river bank this morning, trying to calm my nerves by sitting on a nearby bench and people-watching. It was still a bit cold, being early Spring, but thank goodness I had my coat with me, otherwise I might have caught a chill.
Did you know that the Queen’s Jubilee was held here? I mean, kind of. The procession of boats passed by the South Bank, and … I’m sure you know all of this already, if they could have broadcast the thing to space, they would have.
Ayuan and I went out for dinner last night, at this small Italian place just round the corner from her apartment. In the couple of weeks since I’ve been living at hers, we’ve gotten close - which is inevitable I suppose, when two people are living in close quarters with each other. Although I think she thought that perhaps we were closer than we actually were. Does that make sense? She told me that she had feelings for me - like real feelings for me - ever since high school, and I just sat there, like a real fool, not knowing what to say or what to do.
In the end I changed the subject, which on hindsight was a rather stupid thing to do. I apologized on the way home though, because I was sorry, I truly was. Walking home with someone you’ve just rejected - I have never felt more awkward in my life. When we got back to her apartment I sat in the darkness of the living room for hours, trying to wish away the awkwardness. In the end, I fell asleep in the early hours of the morning.
I know you would have said that it would never have worked out anyway, but I still feel like a bit of a jerk.
I think my time in this city is drawing to an end. My heart longs to be back at home, and my back aches from curling up on a couch for so long. When I started this journey, I wanted to find myself and what I stood for, but during the course of it all I could think of was you. I’ve overstayed my welcome, and all I want to do is go home.
Perhaps the reason why you are on my mind so much is because you’ve become a part of me. These things are possible, you know.
I guess this will be the last letter I write to you from London. I don’t think I’ll miss it.
Xing
Changsha, China, Monday, 1 April 2013
Yixing returns to his parents’ house after a 14-hour red-eye flight on April Fools’ Day. He makes his way home in a taxi, and is fussed over by his loving parents when they realize their only child has returned home early. That evening, Yixing goes to collect the mail from the postbox in their apartment lobby. In it, is a bundle of 5 letters - his letters to Luhan - all postmarked Beijing and stamped “Return to Sender”.
He stares at the letters, sighs, collects them all and tucks them in the topmost drawer of his study desk once he gets home.
Yixing doesn’t write Luhan any more letters.
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Author's post-script:
A couple of people who have read this fic have expressed their thoughts on the mystery of why Yixing is traveling, or why he writes letters to Luhan, who is presumed imaginary, dead, missing, or just missing to Yixing. I didn't seek to portray a particular sense of loss with this, or pursue a specific back story for the two - I just wanted to explore how people hold on to things and people who they shouldn't, if only because they want to or think they can't let go. Yixing's trip is symbolic in that he seeks to forget, but like a romantic hero, can't get Luhan out of his mind. His personal struggle is ended only when all hope is erased, because Luhan won't (or can't?) write back.
Anyway, enough from me. Happy to hear your thoughts on what you think might have happened ^~^
-----------------------
//Prompt//: Long-distance
//Rating//: PG
//Summary//: Yixing writes stream-of-consciousness letters to Luhan that tell a rather more different story than the one he intends to.
//Word Count//: 2,443
//Author’s Note//: Hover over the Chinese text for translations. Now with added postcards! Image credits to their respective owners.
Originally posted here as part of the justgetlayd Bingo Round 2 Challenge.
Tottenham Court Road, Tuesday, 19 February 2013
Dear Luhan
I’m writing this letter to you from my hotel room, about ten minutes past midnight. It looks out onto Tottenham Court Road and is just two doors down from a small shop selling fish and chips.
After dinner, I went for a walk down Oxford Street, and though the bright lights of the stores gave me a headache after a short while, I found a small cafe run by this really nice Korean lady. I stopped there for a while to hide out from the cold night air and have a cup of coffee. The coffee wasn’t bad either.
Anyway, I should tell you about my journey so far. I got in at Heathrow Airport this morning at about 5, just in time to see the sun rise. Technically, that is. I was riding the airport shuttle into London at the time, trying to find my way to my hotel. That is no mean feat when you’re carrying a heavy suitcase full of stuff, I tell you! However, staying in a hotel is fancy, but expensive, so I was contemplating looking up a couple of old friends who are currently studying here. I can spend my days wandering around and sleep on the couch at night. I think it might work - this city is so much more interesting when you’re exploring out-of-doors anyway.
That’s a problem for another day though. Wish me luck?
I guess now would be a good time to tell you that I miss you already. Terribly. You’ll probably laugh and say that it’ll get better with time, but I beg to differ, because how do you quell the feeling in your chest when the only place I want to be is by your side?
Making this trip was to help me find myself. Xiaolu. Help me find the answer, please.
Love
Yixing
p/s: Tomorrow should I go to Big Ben first, or the London Eye?
p/p/s: I bought the fish and chips for my dinner tonight, by the way. It was pretty awesome.
p/p/s: I’ve put my home address in Changsha as the return address. I don’t really trust the postal service these days.
Leicester Square to Westminster, Wednesday, 20 February 2013
Hi Xiaolu
I ventured a little further down the road from my hotel this morning, and before I knew it, I found myself in London’s Chinatown.
On the way there, I passed all these people trying to sell me tickets to go see shows on London’s Broadway. I admit that for a minute I actually seriously thought about buying a ticket, just to see what it was like. And because I was feeling homesick. Broadway is famous for its musicals after all, and I thought that losing myself to 3 hours’ worth of music and fantasy might help ease some of the longing in my heart. But then it was nearing lunchtime, and I got lured in by the smell coming from a nearby Chinese restaurant.
Bad move. The food was pretty awful (and spicy! Why didn’t the 阿姨 forewarn me?), but, because it was made by the hand of a Chinese cook (I think), it helped ease the homesickness a bit. I left the restaurant with a heavy feeling in my chest, and almost bought a sweet potato from the Chinese supermarket, because I missed… eating… sweet… potatoes. I can’t honestly even remember when I last ate a sweet potato, but there you go, I guess. Sometimes the human mind works in funny ways.
From there, I wandered down to Trafalgar Square to the National Portrait Gallery. That place is chock full of paintings of famous people. Well, I had no idea who anyone in that gallery was, but they were somehow famous all the same. I don’t remember much about it, except that it was very quiet and I looked long and hard at each portrait, studying the upward curves of lips and the blues and browns of eyes. I tried to sit and make a sketch of a particularly interesting looking portrait, but all I had was notepaper, and I couldn’t find the right focus inspiration.
After another half an hour of walking down a long corridor lined with portraits I had to get out - I realized that the reason I was looking so hard was because I was hoping to find a little inkling of you in each one (I failed).
Not to be disheartened, I made a quick trip to Westminster, to the famous Big Ben and then down to the river for a trip on the London Eye. They made me wait a long time to get on it, but it was worth it in the end when I found myself facing a bird’s eye view of London. I could see far, far over the horizon, to where the sky meets the sea. It was absolutely beautiful - although you would probably have hated it - so just believe me when I say it was pretty.
I tried to count back to see what time it would be in Beijing, but I couldn't decide if it was 7 or 8 hours' difference. I thought about it for a bit more, then I realized that the time difference probably didn’t matter. For the duration of the ride I looked out as far as I could over the horizon and hoped that somehow, wherever you were, you could see me too.
It's starting to rain now. Seems like it rains a lot here.
Anyway, keep well.
Yixing
p/s: As you can see, I decided to go to both places in the end.
p/p/s: Last year, with my 汤圆. That’s when I last ate sweet potatoes. Proud of me and my memory yet? ^^
Greenwich Village, Thursday, 28 February 2013
Dear Luhan
The middle of the world is here!
I mean, the International Date Line is here. I’m standing on it right now, so it’s 11 am on one side of the line, and noon on the other side of the line. Isn’t that crazy? The little information plaque in the Meridian Courtyard tells me that this is Longitude 0°0' 0”, and before you ask, it doesn’t feel like anything particularly special (no fireworks or special effects when you cross the line, I checked). Although really, it must be, because time is such a precious commodity to us mere mortals. How funny it is, to be able to hop over a line and lose 60 minutes, then hop back over and gain it right back again.
But then I suppose that sometimes once time is gone, there isn’t any way to get it back. 岁月不留人, right?
Speaking of the middle of the world. Our ancestors were horribly wrong for thinking China was the middle, because surprise, someone else half a world away had the exact same idea, and built a magnificent observatory to commemorate it too. This place is pretty magnificent, but then again, so is the Great Wall, so I’m not quite sure where I’m going with this train of thought here.
I walked around the village after I finished this bit of sightseeing, thinking about how time is a man-made construct that we align our lives to - seconds, minutes, hours, days - when in the end, it isn't exactly clear what it all means. Time is the only commodity that we have less and less of as we try to amass more and more of everything else during the course of our lives. Isn’t that funny? At the end of it, all you have are empty hands. Empty hands, and a really long trip to go far, far away.
You are currently far away from me too. I wonder how you’re doing.
It’s been more than a week since I last wrote you. I should update you on what’s happened since then. An old friend from high school, Ayuan, is in London studying to be a doctor. She lives near Paddington Station (yes, like the bear). I moved out of the hotel and into her living room the day after my last letter and I’ve been there ever since. She’s nice, but she isn’t around much because she runs shifts at St. Mary’s Hospital. I’m okay though, with being alone for most of the day. I probably should tell you that I’ve booked my return ticket as well. I’ll be back home in Changsha by April.
I hope this message gets to you safe, and that you’re taking care of yourself.
Don’t make me worry.
Love
Yixing
The Barbican Centre, Sunday, 3 March 2013
Dear Luhan
I stood outside the Barbican (which is a gallery, not how the Englishmen pronounce barbecue) for quite some time this afternoon, wolfing down my chicken mayonnaise sandwich before heading in. That’s such unbecoming behavior, right? I could practically hear you chuckling at me for giving in to the hunger pangs and buying lunch right before going in to view the exhibit. Art is enjoyed better on an empty stomach, I should think, all the better to build up an appetite after. But I was hungry, not having eaten anything the whole day, and the sandwich smelt like a creamy piece of heaven.
I walked straight into the middle of the Rain Room without getting a drop of water on me. 100 square meters of artificial rain. It was magical, I tell you, even though the humidity in that place was so high I could almost feel my hair starting to fuzz up. I just closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the water falling around me, imagining that I was back in the pagoda in the park near my parents’ home in Changsha. Did you know that I always ended up there when I got caught in the rain on the way back home from school? I never remembered to bring an umbrella with me, so during the rainy season I would try to take a shortcut across the park to get back home before the rain began. I guess I never really succeeded, since I always ended up doing my homework in the pagoda, wringing out my soggy socks and waiting for the rain to stop.
Anyway, back to the Rain Room. When I opened my eyes again, I could have sworn I saw you standing in the darkness at the far end, looking straight back at me. I hurried over, but it must have been a trick of the light, because when I got to the other end, there was no one there but me.
The mist from the rain was getting in my eyes, so I left and went out to get some fresh air. The lady at the information desk told me that after today, the Rain Room would be closed. I guess it was kind of lucky to get to experience it on the very last day.
Last days are always a little bit bittersweet, aren't they?
Yixing
p/s: Perhaps there was something weird about the sandwich, because my stomach felt all funny and I didn’t feel quite so hungry after that.
p/p/s: Maybe you were right. Chicken mayonnaise isn’t so good for me after all.
South Bank, Sunday, 24 March 2013
Dear Luhan
Spring is coming. I can smell it in the air.
I walked through the rain along the river bank this morning, trying to calm my nerves by sitting on a nearby bench and people-watching. It was still a bit cold, being early Spring, but thank goodness I had my coat with me, otherwise I might have caught a chill.
Did you know that the Queen’s Jubilee was held here? I mean, kind of. The procession of boats passed by the South Bank, and … I’m sure you know all of this already, if they could have broadcast the thing to space, they would have.
Ayuan and I went out for dinner last night, at this small Italian place just round the corner from her apartment. In the couple of weeks since I’ve been living at hers, we’ve gotten close - which is inevitable I suppose, when two people are living in close quarters with each other. Although I think she thought that perhaps we were closer than we actually were. Does that make sense? She told me that she had feelings for me - like real feelings for me - ever since high school, and I just sat there, like a real fool, not knowing what to say or what to do.
In the end I changed the subject, which on hindsight was a rather stupid thing to do. I apologized on the way home though, because I was sorry, I truly was. Walking home with someone you’ve just rejected - I have never felt more awkward in my life. When we got back to her apartment I sat in the darkness of the living room for hours, trying to wish away the awkwardness. In the end, I fell asleep in the early hours of the morning.
I know you would have said that it would never have worked out anyway, but I still feel like a bit of a jerk.
I think my time in this city is drawing to an end. My heart longs to be back at home, and my back aches from curling up on a couch for so long. When I started this journey, I wanted to find myself and what I stood for, but during the course of it all I could think of was you. I’ve overstayed my welcome, and all I want to do is go home.
Perhaps the reason why you are on my mind so much is because you’ve become a part of me. These things are possible, you know.
I guess this will be the last letter I write to you from London. I don’t think I’ll miss it.
Changsha, China, Monday, 1 April 2013
Yixing returns to his parents’ house after a 14-hour red-eye flight on April Fools’ Day. He makes his way home in a taxi, and is fussed over by his loving parents when they realize their only child has returned home early. That evening, Yixing goes to collect the mail from the postbox in their apartment lobby. In it, is a bundle of 5 letters - his letters to Luhan - all postmarked Beijing and stamped “Return to Sender”.
He stares at the letters, sighs, collects them all and tucks them in the topmost drawer of his study desk once he gets home.
Yixing doesn’t write Luhan any more letters.
-----------------------
Author's post-script:
A couple of people who have read this fic have expressed their thoughts on the mystery of why Yixing is traveling, or why he writes letters to Luhan, who is presumed imaginary, dead, missing, or just missing to Yixing. I didn't seek to portray a particular sense of loss with this, or pursue a specific back story for the two - I just wanted to explore how people hold on to things and people who they shouldn't, if only because they want to or think they can't let go. Yixing's trip is symbolic in that he seeks to forget, but like a romantic hero, can't get Luhan out of his mind. His personal struggle is ended only when all hope is erased, because Luhan won't (or can't?) write back.
Anyway, enough from me. Happy to hear your thoughts on what you think might have happened ^~^
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