Rapping at the apartment door roused Lu Meng out of his fitful sleep. Pulling on a shirt, he grumbled at the interruption and kept on grousing when he caught a glimpse of the time.

Meng looked through the peep hole and the grumbles vanished. He had seen something so wondrously surreal that he pinched himself for good measure.

The universe really had felt the need to make up for raking Meng over the coals yesterday. After the sting of fingernails on bare skin, that businessman from Paragon was still waiting out in the hall with Meng's lost satchel in hand. His full beard and mustache were trimmed short, his dark hair gelled back into casual spikes.

Meng opened up, not bothering with the conventional wisdom of chaining the door. Even if this guy wasn't as trustworthy as his placid expression implied, he could tear the flimsy chain from its moorings with a shoulder bash or two.

"Dr. Lu?"

Meng nodded, put further at ease by the visitor's deep, pleasant tone of voice.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to knock at a bad time."

"Oh, no. It's fine. I should have been up an hour ago." Indeed, it was well past noon.

The man indicated Meng's cell phone in the front of the bag. "I tried to call ahead, but the number on the address label goes to this."

"Believe me, it's fine." Meng had thought the satchel was gone for good. His police report had received generic assurance that the cops would do everything they could. With what little they had to go on, that would not amount to much. Meng couldn't even describe the mugger who had knocked him down the stairs.

Meng rifled through the bag. His laptop was strapped into place with library books nestled alongside it. His music player had not gone anywhere, nor had any of the other assorted belongings crammed into various pockets and pouches. Spare change, which Meng usually forgot to collect and cash in, rattled around in the bottom of the bag. "Everything's still here. How did you find this?"

"I chased the thief and took it back from him."

Meng had the idea that his mouth was drawing flies. This stranger had gone Batman on a thug for his sake? "I...you didn't have to do that."

The man shrugged. "I couldn't just let him get away with it."

"But you could have been hurt. You weren't, were you?"

"Don't concern yourself. It was a typical kid, all show and no go."

"Still, you deserve more than just thanks." Meng opened the door further. "Want to come in?"

"Sure." The man smiled and offered a hand. "Cao Ren, by the way." Meng shook, expecting to get his fingers crushed. Ren's grip was firm and controlled.

Meng remembered the pile of dirty dishes in the sink and the laundry basket he had not yet put away. His hair was a puffball and his randomly chosen shirt sported a coffee stain. As Ren perused the overstuffed bookshelves in the living room, Meng hid the worst of the household clutter, threw on nicer clothing, and combed his wavy mane into a low ponytail. There was no time to shave, but he couldn't win them all. He finished his tidying spree to find Ren parked on the futon, leafing through a cloth-bound tome.

"Sorry about the mess." Meng rambled on before he could stop himself. "The dishwasher's been broken all week and I haven't had time to clean. Maintenance around here is a joke. I should move, but I don't have time for that either."

"Don't worry about it. I'm more interested in your library. Quite impressive, I must say."

Meng smiled. "I've always been a bookworm. And a pack rat, too. I never know when I want to reread something."

"I ought to read more myself. It's a good habit to keep." Ren raised an eyebrow at a woodcut of a heretic burning at the stake. "To think that people used to get killed over their choice of reading material."

"And they would throw the books into the flames along with the unfortunate person caught with them. Ah, the Spanish Inquisition. Truly a low point for humanity." Meng unearthed a favorite text about the Age of Enlightenment from the stack on his end table. "I suggest you read this after you've had your fill of torture."

"I'll take you up on that." Ren set the tome of torment aside and began to flip through a more uplifting time period. "Much better, right down to the pictures of things on fire." He held up a drawing of a model house being ignited with static electricity, demonstrating how buildings would blaze when struck by lightning. "I never heard of a thunder house until now."

"Nifty, isn't it? I guess you could say Franklin invented infomercials along with the lightning rod."

"Nifty indeed. I wish I would have known about this back in the science fair days, but there's a reason they don't teach such things to kids."

"From the stories I've heard out of the chemistry department, some adults shouldn't be learning it either." Meng wrinkled his nose at the memory of a few choice tales from a colleague. Some of the freshmen could not be trusted with matches, let alone experiments involving flammable gases and astronaut levels of protective gear. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Water would be fine."

Meng fetched him a glass. "I'd offer you a beer, but I'm all out." Of all the weeks to be lazy about grocery shopping, this one took the cake. At least he had remembered to freeze some ice cubes.

Ren shrugged. "It's a bit too early for that anyhow." He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of which, I have to go soon. I'm meeting someone for lunch."

As they continued to chat, Meng wondered who that someone was. He had some conversational gambits at the ready by the time Ren got up to leave. You can borrow that book. I still owe you a beer. Maybe I'll see you at Paragon sometime. But the words stuck to his tongue as he showed his guest to the door.

"It was nice to meet you. And thanks again for returning my bag."

"Don't mention it." Ren fished in his pocket and handed over a business card. "And give me a call if you do find time to move."

Once again, promises of future contact were Velcro in Meng's mouth. All he could muster was a casual goodbye.