| Fan Fiction |
by Zaire
“Follow me. I’ll bring you to my father.” Chun pointed to the letter and ascended the mahogany steps. The lady appeared hesitant about this foreign environment, but heeded Chun’s instructions. While they proceed, Chun found him sneaking glances at her. He didn’t know why, but it was as though she possessed a charm he couldn’t resist. Shaking his head slightly, he pushed open the heavy doors of the master bedroom.
His father was still staring coldly at the opposite wall. After directing the lady to take a seat at his armchair, Chun sat at the edge of the lumpy poster bed and patted his father’s shoulders. The old man turned to face Chun in response. Chun placed the letter in his father’s shriveled palms and passed him his reading glasses.
The old man perused the letter in quietude. Chun took the time to spy on the lady. She seemed to have taken an interest in his wine catalogue, and was browsing amusedly. A clearing of the throat jolted Chun and he quickly turned around. His father seemed bothered, his graying brows tightly knitted. Looking straight at Chun with a solemn gaze, the old man motioned for Chun to come closer.
“How old are you now, my boy?” Chun was confused by the question posed but replied religiously. Despite co-habiting with this old man for twenty seven years, the two lived practically parallel lives. It isn’t a wonder to find the man unsure of his son’s age. The old man shook his head, but Chun was unsure whether it was despair or resignation that prompted that reaction.
“Do me a last favor, boy. Promise me you’ll do what’s said in the letter.” The old man wheezed. Yes, this man had not been there throughout his growing years; however, this was also the man that was out earning the bread and giving him his comfortable life. Perhaps it is time for Chun to fulfill his role as a son.
Chun nodded. The old man broke into a hearty smile and held out his pinky. It was amazing how the old acts like the young. Chun smiled and hooked his pinky to the outstretched one. A second flitted and his hand sagged. The old man had finally headed off for his journey to the west. A wet track sliced across Chun’s beautiful face. After wiping it off with the back of his hand, Chun picked up the letter.
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"There's no deep hatred ingrained in father and son."
Curious about the letter? Read on to find out.