One Hundred Ways to Knock Down the Doctor - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

After work, I headed back home, feeling lonely and pathetic as I carried two boxes of skewers. I had to get back to grinding on a freelance illustration project I’d recently picked up.

Just as the elevator doors were about to slide shut in my apartment building, a hand suddenly reached in. The fingers were long and slender, the knuckles well-defined, the skin fair, and the musculature perfectly balanced.

My current draft happened to be missing exactly such a flawless hand.

His fingers moved toward the floor buttons, but instead of selecting a floor, he simply pressed the ‘close’ button.

I followed the hand with my eyes and looked up.

The guy standing across from me was handsome in a refined way, with a clean aura and clear eyes. He radiated an air of righteousness that came with a natural sense of security.

In that instant, inspiration erupted in my mind like a volcano. I immediately conceptualized seven or eight different illustrations-him on top, her on top, on windowsills, on desks, by ponds, in deserts, in forests, on grassy fields-all sorts of different scenes of… adult activities.

I was so far gone that I didn’t even register him explaining that he lived in 807.

In the parlance of the artist community, he truly had a standard ‘all-rounder’ face. It was the kind of face that worked for any setting from ancient to modern, and he could pull off any trope-dominant or submissive, cool and aloof or sweet and soft.

Looking at this face, forget about it being a ‘treat for the eyes’-he was my walking inspiration starter, my golden meal ticket.

Unfortunately, I was a coward and didn’t dare to stare at him openly.

It wasn’t until he stepped out of the elevator and punched in the code for 807 that I realized, looking at his back, that he lived right next door to me.

Door-to-door neighbors.

Heaven is on my side!

With him as a neighbor, why would I ever worry about not having a male lead for my drawings?

The problem was, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d seen this guy somewhere before. He looked familiar.

Just as he opened his door, he suddenly turned his head and glanced at the skewers in my hand.

Spicy, stimulating, inflammatory, and unhealthy.

The moment he lowered his eyes, a bolt of clarity flashed through my mind like lightning.

The hospital, the white coat, the face mask, and the ‘Tang Monk’ who had been nagging me to eat less takeout.

The gynecologist I’d made an appointment with lives right next door to me. May I ask if I can go knock on his door and ask him why my period is irregular?

I stared at that face-which was divinely handsome once the mask was off-and, possessed by some ghost, I lifted my late-night snack toward him. Without engaging my brain, I issued a passionate invitation.

“Want some? I bought an extra box. There are two skewers of kidney and three of chives. They’re good for the kidneys.”

Unsurprisingly, the look he gave me was exactly how one would look at a complete idiot.

I wished I could bite my own tongue off.

The security door next door slammed shut right in my face.