As Aldrich stepped into Neil's Corner Café, he imdiately ordered a cup of coffee and so pastries from the server before looking for a seat. He preferred to sit by the window, where he could enjoy the view of the bustling street outside.
However, the aisle next to the window was blocked by a baby stroller. Aldrich glanced down but didn't think much of it. There was nobody sitting at the adjacent table, just a pen and a notebook placed there. Not seeing any cups or food items, he assud the seat was unoccupied.
He set his leisure bag down by his feet, took off his warm scarf, and unbuttoned his coat before sitting down.
While waiting for his order, Aldrich casually opened the notebook on the table. What he saw captivated him at once.
It was just an ordinary writing notebook, but the neatly arranged English notes were particularly pleasing to the eye. The lines depicted a fantastical short story, and Aldrich found himself getting lost in it.
As he flipped through the pages of the story, he was so absorbed that he didn't notice the presence of soone next to him. His focus remained on the notebook, and he occasionally lifted his left hand to take a sip of coffee or to pop a delicious piece of cake into his mouth.
Just as he was eagerly flipping to the next page, he suddenly found the story abruptly ending, and the blank pages left him feeling a sense of loss as he stared at the notebook in disbelief.
"Sir, would you like a refill?"
The server noticed his empty coffee cup as he passed by and asked.
Aldrich lifted his head and smiled naturally, "Yes, please. Thank you."
As the server bent down to refill his cup, Aldrich noticed a mature woman standing beside him. She was slender, with long golden hair that fell just below her shoulders. Her face, though well-defined, bore a weary expression, and when Aldrich looked at her, there was a lancholic sadness hidden in her averted gaze.
Her long fingers gripped the baby stroller tightly. Aldrich realized that the previously empty stroller now held a chubby little girl of about one year old, drowsily napping, her expression adorably innocent.
Aldrich found it strange that a custor was dining here and the server seed unconcerned about the unfamiliar woman standing nearby.
When he turned towards the server, the polite male attendant explained, "Sir, the notebook you're holding belongs to this lady."
It dawned on Aldrich. He hadn't seen any cups or other items on the table and thought there were no other patrons. Realizing it belonged to the woman, he quickly stood up and said apologetically, "I'm sorry! I didn't know this was yours."
After a mont of silence, the mature woman replied softly, "It's okay."
Aldrich's appearance was at least non-threatening; with his handso looks and casual attire, he resembled a friendly neighbor's son, so he often left a good first impression.
"Did you write this?"
Aldrich had no intention of returning the notebook just yet. Seeing the woman frown slightly, he hurriedly added, "Please don't misunderstand. I really enjoyed your story; it's brilliant. We t by fate, so let treat you to a coffee. Also, if possible, could you let see the continuation of the story? Only seeing half of such a fantastic narrative honestly leaves feeling uncomfortable, like I'm being scratched by a cat—it's quite maddening."
Perhaps Aldrich's straightforward and humorous words touched the woman, as she sat down in front of him, although she still looked down, seemingly lacking in confidence.
Aldrich ordered her a coffee along with so additional pastries, and then he began chatting casually with her.
Initially, the atmosphere was a bit awkward, but soon the mature woman started to open up more. She seed curious about Aldrich's thoughts, and especially as she received his complints, her previously lancholic expression softened, and a glimr of light returned to her eyes.
"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Aldrich Hall, visiting Edinburgh for tourism. I work as a football coach."
Aldrich smiled as he held up his coffee cup.
The woman's expression shifted again to sadness, as if she rembered sothing. She murmured, "Football? I've seen matches in Manchester, just a ball flying through the air..."
Clearly, football triggered so unpleasant mories for her; her lips twisted into a bitter smile, and she shook her head, looking up at Aldrich and saying, "My na is Joanne Rowling. Mr. Hall, you seem very young, I thought you were still in school. I didn't realize you had a job already."
Aldrich casually replied, "I don't have grand aspirations of ruling the world. Ever since I was a child, I just wanted to be a football coach, so there was no need for higher education. As for that abstract idea of cultivating refinent and character—I'm just a simple guy who doesn't set my sights too high. Hehe, Ms. Joanne Rowling, right?"
Aldrich suddenly raised his head, blinking curiously, and then asked, "Pardon my intrusion, but could you tell your full na? What's your middle na?"
Rowling looked bewildered and replied honestly, "Catherine."
Aldrich leaned back in his chair, an expression of surprise on his face as he looked at the mature woman across from him, as if he was seeing her in a completely new light.
Joanne Catherine Rowling. JK Rowling!
Aldrich had initially thought the woman's face seed sowhat familiar, but it was a fleeting sense that felt almost dreamlike.
In fact, he had seen her face before; it was just that his mory was too far back, and at that ti, he had seen a more vibrant version of her, not the weary and lancholic woman before him.
While Aldrich wasn't particularly fond of literature in his past life, he still knew of an author whose works had captivated the world.
The mother of Harry Potter: JK Rowling!
Feeling a bit embarrassed, Aldrich realized he had never read the original Harry Potter books, simply because he couldn't understand them back then and wasn't interested in the Chinese translations. However, he had watched all the movies and believed that many fans might share similar experiences.
Suddenly, Aldrich's expression grew serious as he softly asked, "Are you facing so troubles? I can see that you don't seem well."
She was dressed modestly and hadn't even ordered coffee at the café. Aldrich found it hard to understand why she was allowed to sit there without so much as a glass of water in front of her.
His question evidently stirred painful mories for her, as her eyes glistened with tears. She quickly looked down and said, "Mr. Hall, you're still young; there are many things that soone your age cannot understand."
Aldrich replied earnestly, "No, it's not about whether one can understand or not. I'm a simple person; if there's a problem, I solve it. I enjoy your work, and that little story was fantastic. I believe you can create even more remarkable works in the future, ones that more people will embrace. Therefore, you should focus your energy on what you love most. Just like , I love football, so I invest all my energy into being the coach I've always dread of being. Anyone or anything that stands in my way—I see as obstacles to be cleared!"
Rowling suddenly looked up, disbelief on her face as she regarded the confident young man before her.
Why?
Why did he exude such confidence?
He had already entered the workforce and experienced society; how could he still hold his head high in such a seemingly sunless world?
Clearly, Aldrich was an anomaly; he did not share in the British nostalgia for the bygone glory of the old empire, nor did he possess the aggressive bravado of soone trying to assert himself. His straightforward attitude towards life gave him an air of carefree confidence, unhindered by any setbacks.
Since he arrived in London in the sumr of 1986, he had chosen to live a more carefree and simple life.
As he said, eting was fate. With his genuine praise, Aldrich and Rowling were soon able to converse like friends.
At this point, Aldrich realized that JK Rowling's current circumstances were actually quite difficult.
Currently embroiled in a divorce battle, she was essentially a single mother. Not only did she require governnt assistance for her living expenses, but she also needed psychological treatnt. She was living off of others—this café was run by her brother-in-law and other partners—allowing her to write her literature here.
For her, the past year had been dark. The collapse of her marriage left her feeling lost, surrounded by a heavy cloud of negativity. If it weren't for her daughter, she might not have had the courage to continue living.
In such a context, Aldrich's unexpected encouragent and praise moved her far more than re words of consolation ever could.
After hearing her story, Aldrich stood up, placing his hands on the table. With an earnest expression, he addressed her, "Ms. Rowling, you must pull yourself together! And you should thank God, thank Mary, or whatever deity you believe in—regardless, your new life has already begun! That kind of abandonnt is sothing you need to cut ties with. Think of it this way: you're free now, you've been liberated, you can pursue the life you want. You can be happy! Treat it as if your life is starting anew. Believe , when life presents a new beginning, don't hesitate—seize it! Don't leave any regrets as you restart your journey!"
In that mont, the future world-renowned JK Rowling stared blankly at the handso young man across from her, captivated by his motivational eyes—gleaming brightly, almost like a shining beacon that ignited a longing within her, wishing to hold onto it forever.
Indeed, inspiring others had beco a skill Aldrich had honed over the last six months. To be a good coach, one must excel at communication, and he instinctively applied this talent to Rowling.
After a brief mont of stunned silence, Rowling faltered, saying, "But I... I don't know how to proceed."
Upon questioning, Aldrich discovered that Rowling used an old-fashioned typewriter to write her novels at ho. He felt a pang of sympathy; that elegant pair of hands, striking the cold keys with each keystroke, seed almost criminal.
Aldrich glanced at his watch; he needed to catch a train, or he wouldn't make it back in ti for the team's training tomorrow. He was always punctual as a coach, never wanting to be careless.
"Sorry, I have to go back to London for work, but don't worry. I can offer you so assistance—please don't misunderstand, this isn't pity; it's an honor to help you. Just a mont, I need to make a phone call."
For Aldrich, offering a bit of help was rely a small effort, but for JK Rowling, it would an a dramatic change in her life. While he didn't intend to portray himself as a great philanthropist, he believed firmly in the concept of fate.
Having encountered Rowling in her mont of despair, he felt compelled to lend a hand. Any of his friends would have done the sa without hesitation.
He moved to the bar area, picked up the phone, and called Andrew's apartnt. He briefly explained the situation and arranged for Andrew to co to Edinburgh the next day, having a lawyer take over Rowling's divorce case.
The case itself was rely a tug-of-war over custody and alimony issues.
Andrew wasn't quite sure what had gotten into Aldrich, but whenever his brother asked for sothing, he never refused.
After setting that up, Aldrich picked up his leisure bag, found Andrew's business card inside, and handed it to the bewildered Rowling. He said, "Ms. Rowling, this is my brother's card. He's a lawyer, and I've arranged for him to help you with your case. You won't have to pay any legal fees. Additionally, I'll lend you so money too. Forget about life's pressures; any difficulties are only temporary. You're destined to write remarkable stories that will be known worldwide. Honestly, I envy your talent. Uh, sorry, I'm really in a hurry. My brother will be here tomorrow to et you. Goodbye."
With that, Aldrich hurried out of the café, always adhering to a well-organized schedule. His unexpected encounter with Rowling today had transford him into soone rushed.
Inside the café, Rowling held the business card and watched Aldrich get into a taxi outside, feeling sowhat disappointed.
At that mont, a nearby bartender shook her head slightly and said, "He looks like a fraudster."
Rowling turned around, pushing the stroller as she walked outside, feeling puzzled.
What could she possibly have to be deceived out of, being so empty-handed?
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