Chapter 1: The First Cup of Coffee
When Jiang Ying stepped out of the office building, a fine drizzle was falling from the sky. It was one of those chilly reversals in mid-March—just when the weather had started to warm up, it snapped back to winter without warning.
Streetlights glowed softly against the thick night. Spring rain, laced with pink and white petals, fell in a steady hush onto the pavement.
She pulled out her phone and checked the time: March 12th, 11:48 PM.
Only twelve minutes left—and her birthday would be over.
She'd spent the entire day at work and still hadn't finished her proposal. If the night guard hadn't come around to lock up, she might've stayed until morning.
The rain was fitting, honestly.
Jiang Ying sighed, popped open her soft lavender umbrella, and stepped into the rain.
Working adults weren't allowed to celebrate birthdays. At most, it was just another reminder that you were getting older—another year blurred by.
Earlier that afternoon, she had stepped out briefly, and by the time she returned, someone had taken her parking spot. It took her a full loop around the block before she found another one. Head down, shoulders drooping, she dragged her feet the rest of the way.
When luck runs dry, nothing seems to go right.
As she neared the street corner, her eyes caught on a small building still lit from within.
At this quiet, late hour, the softly glowing little shop looked like a magical secret—tucked awkwardly between tall buildings and swaying trees, as if it had fallen from some storybook world.
Jiang Ying slowed her steps, curiosity drawing her in. She remembered her coworkers mentioning a new café nearby, something small but charming.
Still open? This late?
She could vaguely see someone moving inside. Stepping under the eaves, she gave her umbrella a shake and gently pushed open the glass door.
A small bell chimed overhead, its crisp sound breaking the hush of the rainy night—and catching the attention of the man behind the counter.
He was young. Dressed in a soft sweater over a white shirt, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose—mature, composed.
He wore a grey-blue barista apron, but one look told her he wasn't a staff member.
He was the owner.
He seemed a little surprised to see her, but quickly recovered and nodded politely, offering a quiet, "Hello."
Jiang Ying nodded back. Her eyes scanned the space in a single glance.
The café was mostly white—wooden tables and chairs, potted greenery everywhere. The counter and kitchen were on the left, with five or six tables scattered around the room.
Clean, minimal Nordic style, but with cozy touches. Warm yellow lighting. Tablecloths in soft green and yellow checks. A little pot of herbs or flowers on every table. Floral cushions on the chairs.
"You're still open this late?" she asked.
The man simply hummed in acknowledgment and continued tidying up.
His name was Yun Xian, and this was his café.
The rainy night was no good for sleep. Rather than lie awake, he'd stayed behind to prep for tomorrow and burn off some restless energy.
He hadn't expected anyone to show up.
"Can I still order something?" Jiang Ying leaned her umbrella near the door and walked to the counter.
Up close, she realized—he was good-looking.
Tall, too. She was 5'7", and he must've been at least 6'1".
Sharp features. Fair skin. Soft-spoken vibe. Definitely her type.
A handsome café owner… she almost laughed. What kind of real-life romance trope was this? She rubbed the tip of her nose to hide her smile.
Technically, the shop was closed. Yun Xian hesitated, then nodded. "You can. But not everything's available."
Jiang Ying didn't even glance at the menu. "Any cake left?"
As it happened, there was one slice left—he'd planned to take it home. "Just a sec," he said, heading into the back.
He returned with a plate holding a pale yellow sponge cake.
"This is the last slice. Cheesecake with ice cream. That okay?"
"Perfect," she said without hesitation.
The register was already off. "That'll be twenty-two," Yun Xian said. "Do you have cash?"
She hadn't carried cash since mobile payments became a thing. She shook her head, already plotting. Perfect chance to get his WeChat, right?
Worried he might just say "I'll reopen the register," she jumped in quickly, "Can I WeChat you? I'll scan your code."
"Sure." He pulled out his phone—deep blue silicone case, very much on-brand for him.
As he unlocked the screen and opened WeChat, Jiang Ying silently cheered. Birthday luck! Romantic buff activated!
…until he opened Face-to-Face Pay.
Jiang Ying: …
Her tiny plan was crushed by modern efficiency.
With a frozen smile, she entered the amount and paid the 22 yuan.
The name on the screen showed: *岘.
She frowned. "Jiàn?"
Yun Xian paused, then chuckled. "Xiàn. My name's Yun Xian."
She repeated it softly. Yun Xian. Smooth, elegant. Kind of celestial.
Even his name was unreal.
He started packing the cake into a box.
"No need," she said, holding out a hand. "Are you in a hurry to close? I'll eat it here."
"Not in a rush." He put the box away, grabbed a blue ceramic plate, and plated the cake. "Enjoy."
"Thanks."
She sat at the bar near the counter. Light music filled the room, mellow and soft.
She scooped a bite. Creamy, salty-sweet, absolutely perfect. Propping her chin on one hand, she watched the handsome owner go about his work.
She knew his name now. Felt only fair to offer hers.
"I forgot to say—my name's Jiang Ying. Jiang as in ginger, Ying as in welcome."
He didn't know why she'd suddenly introduced herself—probably just wanted to talk. He nodded and kept it going. "You work nearby?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Zhi Cheng Studio. Game development. Heard of it?"
At the name, Yun Xian smiled faintly.
He hadn't just heard of it—he'd named it.
Knowing she worked for his friend's company, he relaxed. "Cake this late at night… not worried about the calories?"
"Well, I've got a few minutes left of my birthday," she said, digging into the ice cream filling. "Gotta have a little ritual."
He glanced up in surprise. "Happy birthday."
She looked young. Probably fresh out of school. Brown hair in a low ponytail. Monolid eyes gave her soft, delicate features—quietly pretty.
He didn't know much about Li Zhicheng's studio, but he knew what startups were like—bosses crushed by investors, employees crushed by bosses.
Game development was a brutal field. Judging by her tired face, she'd just gotten off work. Not even a moment to celebrate her birthday. Just enough energy to buy herself a slice of cake.
If he hadn't happened to stay late, she might've ended the day with nothing at all.
Maybe he saw a bit of his younger self in her—exhausted and broke. Something in his gaze softened.
He sighed. Blame Li Zhicheng for this one.
A few minutes later, he came back from the kitchen holding a small scented candle.
He turned off the lights, leaving only the bar lamp on. Lit the candle.
Sweet apple scent wafted through the air. The tiny flame danced gently in the dark.
He placed it in front of her. "This was all I could find."
She blinked. "Huh?"
He gestured. "Make a wish. No candle? This will do."
"Oh." She smiled, lowering her gaze. "So that's what you were up to."
She thought for a moment. Nothing big came to mind—smooth work, good health, a boyfriend, maybe.
The usuals.
Music drifted softly behind them:
"Goodnight dear world.
Goodnight old trees.
Goodnight and goodbye."
"I make so many wishes every year," she murmured, eyes closed, hands clasped. "Almost none of them come true. So this time, I'll wish for someone else. I hope everyone struggling with insomnia tonight gets a good night's sleep."
Her voice wasn't soft or girly—it was low, steady. Like fruit wine in a glass: clear, fragrant, quietly intoxicating. It matched her calm, thoughtful face perfectly.
A few seconds later, she opened her eyes, blew out the candle, and looked up. "Thanks, Boss Yun."
Their eyes met. Yun Xian froze.
The rain had stopped. The warm light of the bar reflected in her eyes—like tiny flames, quietly burning in the night.
Her eyes were big for monolids—bright, glassy, alive.
"Sleep well."
To someone with insomnia, those words meant nothing.
No one understood the pain of lying awake at night, exhausted but wired. The mind racing, unraveling, grinding itself into numbness.
That was why "Goodnight" was the one word Yun Xian hated.
His nights were never peaceful. Only medication could shut him down. Dreams were chaos.
Jiang Ying didn't know any of that.
But tonight, she wished "Good sleep" for strangers.
And somehow, it was the kindest thing anyone had said to him in a long time.
The rain had stopped. The silence returned.
And Yun Xian, for the first time in a long while, felt drowsy.
He adjusted his watch and said softly, "If I'd known it was your birthday, I'd have treated you to the cake."
Jiang Ying smiled, dimples showing. "Is that your new customer welcome gift?"
She gestured at the candle. "You already helped me celebrate."
Still feeling like it wasn't enough, Yun Xian offered, "Then come back next year on your birthday. I'll make it up to you."
She chuckled. "Sure thing, boss. Very generous of you."
She didn't take it seriously. Just small talk.
But Yun Xian meant it.
Still unsatisfied, he pulled a sticky note and pen from the drawer, bent down, and scribbled out a quick little voucher.
It was rough—just the words "Birthday Voucher" and a doodle of a cake.
He looked at it, then added a line: "Belongs to Jiang Ying."
He signed it at the bottom—a promise in ink.
He handed it to her. "Seriously. Keep it. Come back next year."
She took the note and laughed. "What do I redeem? A birthday date with you?"
Caught off guard, Yun Xian looked embarrassed. "Just a slice of cake."
The air shifted.
He turned back to the counter, taking off his apron. Jiang Ying coughed and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Just as she carefully folded the note and slipped it into her bag, he returned.
Still holding the apron, fingers pale against the dark fabric.
She looked up. "What's wrong?"
He pushed up his glasses. That's when she noticed the little mole under his left eye—barely visible behind the frame.
Someone once said people with tear moles were soft-hearted.
Maybe they were.
Because he said—
"You can come on your birthday… if no one else is there to celebrate with you."
Outside, the night was still and wet. Warm light danced in her eyes.
She smiled.
"Alright. See you next year."
She stepped outside. Under the awning, she pulled out the note, unfolding it between her fingers.
Whether the café would still be there next year, or if the voucher would ever be redeemed—
Of all the blessings she'd received, this one was the most unforgettable.
She paused where she'd first stopped that night.
And looked through the window, at the man inside.
Yun Xian.
She whispered his name to herself once more, as if to memorize it.
Chapter 2: The Second Cup of Coffee
Jiang Ying, freshly twenty-five and a newly minted corporate cog, feared nothing more than her boss and the dreaded Friday team meetings.
At this moment, arms full with her laptop and notebook, she stood with one hand on the conference room door handle. She didn't push it open right away, instead taking a deep breath to steady herself.
It reminded her of high school—getting called into the teacher's office with that same mix of nerves and dread.
She was the last to take her seat.
Printed documents had already been distributed to every chair. At the head of the table sat the boss, Li Zhicheng.
Jiang Ying pulled out her chair and sat down, nodding a brief greeting to Fang Yu, the operations director seated across from her. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at Li Zhicheng, dressed immaculately in a black suit, expressionless as he toyed with the pen in his hand.
The pen's metal cap tapped softly against the table—barely audible, yet somehow making everyone's heart beat in sync with its rhythm.
It was the usual round of departmental reports. Li Zhicheng asked each person about their progress, one by one. Eventually, his gaze landed on Jiang Ying. His voice, low and steady with a natural authority, rang out:
"I reviewed your revised proposal."
The second it was her turn, Jiang Ying felt every nerve in her body tighten, bracing herself for what came next.
"It's okay overall."
Just four simple words—but she exhaled in relief like a boulder had been lifted off her chest.
"But…"
Immediately, she sat up straighter, breath caught in her throat.
Li Zhicheng tapped his fingers on the table. "I've said it before—if we want our simulation game to really succeed, player immersion is key. Don't make it too much like a cheesy romance. Keep it grounded. Make the dialogue more natural, more like everyday speech."
Jiang Ying accepted the feedback without resistance. "Understood. I've seen similar comments from our players. We'll focus on that in the next team meeting."
Li Zhicheng gave a small nod, then asked, "What's your idea for the next main storyline update?"
What kind of teacher was the scariest in school?
The kind who, after grading your homework, asked if you'd previewed the next lesson.
Jiang Ying froze for a moment. Then she cleared her throat, composed herself, and flipped open her notebook to a specific page—though her mind was racing. After a quick mental draft, she spoke up:
"I think the next chapter could center around a 'Spring Café' theme. Office workers are always busy, and cafés nestled between skyscrapers serve as their short-term retreats. The rich aroma of coffee, a display case full of delicate cakes, soothing music that helps relax the mind—it's where their tension can ease, even just briefly. Our market research showed that the biggest demographic for our game is young professionals aged 20 to 25. I believe this café theme will be more immersive and appealing than the previous chapters."
Li Zhicheng didn't respond immediately. Instead, he looked around the table and asked, "What do the rest of you think?"
"I think it sounds great," Fang Yu said first.
"The last few chapters leaned heavily on nostalgia. The storylines were fine, but we've had feedback that the settings weren't detailed enough. A café would give the art team a lot more to work with."
"It also aligns better with what our core audience likes."
Crisis averted. Her off-the-cuff idea had actually gained traction.
"Planning team, give me a full proposal by next week. That's it for today." Li Zhicheng uncrossed his legs and officially called the meeting to a close.
The sentence might as well have been the school bell.
Jiang Ying slumped in her chair and let out a deep breath, blowing her bangs off her forehead.
Just as everyone was packing up and leaving the meeting room, Li Zhicheng glanced at Jiang Ying and said, "Jiang Ying, come to my office in a bit."
The classic teacher move—staying behind after class.
The fleeting lightness from surviving the meeting instantly vanished. Jiang Ying forced a smile. "Okay, got it."
Li Zhicheng's office was at the very end of the hallway. When Jiang Ying knocked and entered, he was lounging in his chair, casually scrolling through his phone.
She stepped in quietly. "Boss."
He put down his phone and gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit."
"Been working late the past few days?" he asked directly, skipping any small talk.
Jiang Ying was caught off guard. Why the sudden concern? Did the security guard rat her out? Was he worried about the company's electric bill?
The humble employee in her quickly explained, "Ah, it wasn't that late. I just figured I was almost done and didn't want to leave it halfway. Next time I'll be sure to take it home."
Li Zhicheng sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's not what I meant. I don't encourage late nights and overtime. Don't stay that late again. Go home and rest earlier."
Jiang Ying blinked rapidly. Had she heard that right?
Since when did the cold-blooded boss start practicing humanitarianism?
Li Zhicheng asked again, "Was the deadline I gave too tight?"
She quickly shook her head. "No, not at all."
He didn't expect her to admit it anyway. Rising to his feet, he pulled a card from his jacket hanging on the coat rack and handed it to her. "Go get some afternoon snacks for the team. You've all worked hard lately. Get whatever you want—it's on me."
Jiang Ying's eyes, usually slender, went wide in disbelief. She accepted the card with both hands, nearly bowing in gratitude. "Thank you, Boss!"
He waved her off. "Go."
Jiang Ying had barely returned to her desk when Zhou Qingqing rolled over in her chair, scooting next to her and whispering, "What did the Boss want to talk to you about?"
Jiang Ying lifted an eyebrow and flashed a grin, holding up the bank card between her thumb and middle finger, waving it in front of Zhou Qingqing's face. "He said he's buying everyone afternoon tea."
"No way!" Zhou Qingqing gasped, only to be silenced by a warning glare from Jiang Ying. She quickly covered her mouth and lowered her voice. "Did King Li just become a loving father?"
"Maybe he's just in a good mood because the meeting went well today," Jiang Ying guessed.
Zhou Qingqing nodded in agreement. "By the way, when did you come up with that café idea during the meeting? I was panicking when he called on you."
"When?" Jiang Ying flipped open her notebook to a particular page and handed it to Zhou Qingqing. "Just then."
Zhou Qingqing took it—but there was no proposal. The page was filled with her recent expenses and a bunch of doodles in the margins.
"But actually, I owe it to this," Jiang Ying said, her gaze falling on the last line—"Cheesecake, ¥22."
It was seeing that very line earlier that reminded her of that night and inspired the sudden idea for a springtime café.
Holding up the notebook, her mind drifted back to the man behind the counter that rainy evening. It had only been a few days, but his face was already fading in her memory. All she could clearly recall was the tiny mole beneath his left eye.
"Qingqing, I'm off to buy that afternoon tea," she said, springing to her feet and grabbing her phone and the bank card before striding out of the office.
The weather was clear today, and the breeze was warm.
A few saplings Yun Xian had ordered arrived, and he personally planted them in the empty plot outside the café. A few days ago had been Arbor Day—he figured this could count as his contribution to a greener planet.
His shirt had smudges of dirt, and his once clean hands were now a mess. He hadn't minded during the planting, but now his cleanliness instinct kicked in. Holding his hands awkwardly up, he returned to the café and elbowed open the faucet, thoroughly washing them twice with soap, scrubbing every nook and cranny.
After he was done, he took off his dirtied overshirt, folding it neatly and leaving only the white T-shirt underneath.
Yun Xian was a September-born Virgo. While not overly critical or difficult, he still had all the typical quirks: a mild case of OCD, a soft obsession with cleanliness, and an inability to tolerate even a tiny stain on anything white—it would itch at his eyes and gnaw at his peace of mind.
And of course, white was his favorite color. Most of his shirts and T-shirts were white, and the café's main interior theme? White.
—Virgos really were picky like that.
It was a weekday, so the café wasn't busy. Only three tables had come and gone all afternoon, though lunchtime had seen a good number of coffee orders.
Spring fatigue and rising temperatures weighed on people. Zhao Xinrou yawned nonstop while polishing cups, one after another. Yawns, as they say, were contagious—Su Cheng, sitting on a small stool nearby playing mobile games, joined in too.
Their alternating yawns were like a duet.
Yun Xian finally couldn't take it anymore. While drying his hands with a paper towel, he said, "Xiao Zhao, Su Cheng, there aren't many customers today. Tomorrow's the weekend, and we'll be busy. Take the rest of the afternoon off."
Zhao Xinrou's eyes sparkled. "Thanks, Boss!"
Su Cheng looked moved to tears. "You're the best, bro."
Their sleepiness vanished instantly. Excited, they shed their aprons, grabbed their bags, and practically ran out the door.
Yun Xian chuckled softly to himself. They moved fast, afraid he might change his mind at the last minute.
Just then, his phone chimed. He pulled it from his pocket and unlocked the screen. It was a WeChat message from his friend, Li Zhicheng.
[Zhicheng: Just finished the meeting. Called the girl into my office to comfort her, even handed over my card for afternoon tea.]
[Zhicheng: Feeling moved by my own generosity.]
[Jianshan: You? Generous? Rare sight.]
[Zhicheng: It's your fault, anyway.]
[Zhicheng: Damn, I've been ridden with guilt all day because of you.]
He followed that with a meme: a tiny cartoon fist raised in anger.
Yun Xian chuckled under his breath as he looked at the messages.
That morning, while signing for the saplings, he'd thought of Jiang Ying—the girl who shared a birthday with Arbor Day.
His mom loved sending him articles and health tips—everything from seasonal nutrition advice to national breaking news. He'd scrolled through their chat history and picked a few gems to send to Li Zhicheng.
"Shocking! Employee dies after working 24 hours straight!"
"50 reasons why staying up late is killing you!"
"Overworked staff collapse, company fined ¥500,000…"
After getting those, Li Zhicheng bombarded him with question marks and even called to confirm Yun Xian hadn't been hacked.
Yun Xian had calmly explained, in very few words, about the rainy night when he saw Zhicheng's employee in his café. He left out the details but emphasized the gloomy setting and the tired, delicate look of a girl worn down by overtime.
Li Zhicheng had been rattled ever since.
[Zhicheng: When I handed her the card today, I felt so badass and cool.]
[Zhicheng: It was an amazing moment. But afterward, man… my heart hurt.]
[Jianshan: Seriously?]
[Zhicheng: I'm saving for a wedding fund, okay? I'm broke. You don't get it.]
Yun Xian couldn't be bothered to keep chatting. He sent a red envelope.
Zhicheng gleefully accepted it and replied with a head-tilted cartoon puppy emoji.
The café's last table left. Yun Xian said goodbye, pocketed his phone, and stood up to clear the dishes.
As he gathered plates and bowls, the doorbell chimed behind him.
"Welcome," he said reflexively.
The puddles from the rain a few days ago still hadn't dried under the shade of the trees. Sunlight blanketed the world in gold, clouds drifted lazily across the sky, and the breeze rustled the leaves gently.
Backlit by the sunlight, a girl stepped through the door. Yun Xian could only make out a vague silhouette. As she moved further inside, the lighting shifted, and her features came into full view.
It was Jiang Ying.
She wore a soft lavender knit sweater and pale blue jeans that highlighted her slender, well-shaped legs. The golden sunlight made her whole figure appear warm and soft, like a gentle brushstroke across a spring landscape.
"Boss Yun," she called out, the corners of her lips lifting into a smile like a blooming mountain cherry blossom in early spring. Her eyes locked on him, unwavering.
"Hello." Yun Xian returned to the front counter with the dishes in hand. The porcelain clinked softly as it landed in the sink. He washed his hands, dried them with a towel, and passed her a menu. "What would you like today?"
Jiang Ying gave the menu a brief glance. "Ten slices of cake, five lattes, and five Americanos."
He had a pretty good guess why she was here, but he asked anyway, teasingly, "Buying afternoon tea for your coworkers?"
She nodded and waved the bank card in her hand. "Today, the boss is treating."
He swiped the card with ease. Somewhere upstairs, Li Zhicheng's phone buzzed with a transaction alert—unaware of who had just pocketed the profit.
Ten portions would take some time to prepare. Yun Xian slightly regretted letting Zhao Xinrou and Su Cheng leave early, but at least he'd have something to keep himself busy now.
Jiang Ying didn't mind the wait. She sat on a high stool by the bar, resting her chin in her hand, watching him work. For a moment, it felt like she'd been transported back to that rainy night.
"When did you learn to make coffee?" she asked.
"Just in the last couple of years. I got interested, so I started learning," Yun Xian answered, stirring the Americano.
"You look really professional." Her compliment was soft, genuine.
Yun Xian gave a small smile but didn't reply.
Once everything was ready, he packed the items into a box. He lifted it and tested the weight—it wasn't light. "Can you manage that? Want to ask a coworker to help?"
"I've got it." She carefully lifted the box. It was heavy, but manageable.
"Bye, Boss," she said as she turned to leave.
"Wait a sec," Yun Xian called out.
Jiang Ying paused, leaning the edge of the box against the counter. "What's up?"
He handed her a sticky note with a phone number scribbled on it. "This is my number. Next time you want to order afternoon tea for your office, just call. I'll have the staff deliver it."
She took the note and held it tightly in her hand. "Okay."
She hesitated for a few seconds before speaking again, summoning her courage. "Can I add you on WeChat?"
Then, quickly, as if afraid she was being too forward, she added, "It's just… it'd be easier to contact you."
Yun Xian nodded. "Sure."
With that assurance, Jiang Ying left the café carrying ten slices of cake and ten coffees—arms full but heart light, as though walking on clouds.
Yun Xian walked her to the door and held it open. "Be careful. See you next time."
Her voice was light and cheerful as she replied, "Bye, Boss!"
He kept the faint smile on his lips as he watched her disappear around the corner with the box.
Once the shop quieted again, he turned back to the empty café, suddenly feeling a bit… bored.
The days were getting longer. Maybe it was time to find something new to fill the time.
Chapter 3: The Third Cup of Coffee
Jiang Ying clenched the square sticky note in her hand. By the time she returned to the office and unfolded it, the paper had already been dampened by her palm's sweat, crinkled and soft—but thankfully, the numbers weren't smudged.
She handed the box to Zhou Qingqing and asked her to distribute the afternoon tea.
The moment food was mentioned, everyone dropped what they were doing and gathered around like pigeons in a plaza.
Jiang Ying slipped to the back of the group and quietly returned to her desk.
She opened WeChat's search function, typing the numbers in slowly and carefully—digit by digit.
Soon, the contact card popped up.
The name was simple: Jianshan. The profile picture showed a night sky with clouds and a crescent moon. His listed location was Beijing—no wonder his accent didn't sound local.
His Moments feed was nearly empty, just a few posts about daily life, nothing revealing.
Jiang Ying stared at that limited information for a long time, reading it again and again.
Until Zhou Qingqing came over with a piece of cake and asked, "Did you get it from Cloud's Edge?"
"Cloud's Edge?" Jiang Ying lifted the coffee cup lid and took a sip.
Warm latte—just a hint of bitterness, followed by a soft aftertaste of milk.
"Yeah, that new café downstairs I told you about."
"Oh..." Jiang Ying nodded. So it was called Cloud's Edge. She'd been there twice and hadn't even noticed the name.
Leaning against the desk, Zhou Qingqing casually munched on her cake while chatting, completely in slacker mode. "So? Did you meet the owner?"
"The owner? Why?" Jiang Ying flipped her phone screen down and opened her cake box.
"You haven't noticed? He's rare premium male specimen material. All the girls around here are talking about him. What he's wearing today, whether he's at the shop—every group chat is buzzing."
Jiang Ying's hand paused mid-scoop. "So... everyone knows him?"
"Totally," Zhou Qingqing said, scooting closer and whispering. "Young café owner, financially and time independent, and good-looking too. I mean, who wouldn't be into that? He's got the perfect profile."
Jiang Ying poked at the mango topping on her cake, a bit absentminded.
Zhou Qingqing kept rambling on, "You know that artsy photographer from the studio downstairs? The really elegant one? Word is she's been hanging out at Cloud's Edge all the time, trying to get noticed. Us mere mortals don't stand a chance—just admiring the view is already a treat."
Jiang Ying suddenly set her spoon down with a sharp tap. "Speaking of profiles, why don't you think about the male lead's design for the new chapter this weekend and send me a rough outline by Monday."
Zhou Qingqing, spoon still in her mouth, instantly deflated. "But... today's Friday."
Jiang Ying patted her on the shoulder. "Then we'll work overtime together. I'll stay too."
With a forced smile, Zhou Qingqing nodded. "Okay... got it."
Once the office quieted down again, Jiang Ying sighed in relief and picked up her phone.
A message flashed at the top of WeChat: "You've added Jianshan. You can now start chatting."
She straightened her back and rubbed her hands together, suddenly a little nervous.
She typed: "Hi, this is Jiang Ying."
She stared at the screen, breath caught as the typing indicator popped up: "The other person is typing..."
Jianshan: Hello.
Hello.
Now what?
What was she supposed to say next?
Jiang Ying frowned, searching for a follow-up—until her eyes fell on the cake beside her. Instantly, she perked up again.
FallingSunset: What flavor is the cake today? It's really good.
Jianshan: Mango crepe.
FallingSunset: I think I liked the one I had last time even better.
Jianshan: The cheese ice cream one? Unfortunately, our junior chef didn't make that today.
FallingSunset: Then I'll wait for next time.
Jianshan: Mm.
And... the conversation stopped again.
Jiang Ying slumped back into her chair. She really needed to take a lesson from Zhou Qingqing on how to keep a chat going.
Two hours until the end of the day. She decided to get a jump on next week's work, distributing tasks and making a rough schedule.
Jiang Ying had never been top of her class, but once she started something, she gave it her full focus.
As coworkers gradually clocked out, she remained alone in the cubicle, finishing the final touches.
After typing the last line and saving the file, she grabbed her phone—and noticed a new message had arrived earlier, from Yun Xian:
Jianshan: Our junior chef is working on new items next week—red velvet and sea salt taro. Come try them if you're interested.
The sun was setting outside, turning the sky a blood-orange hue, sinking between buildings and tree lines. A gentle breeze stirred the evening air.
Jiang Ying smiled softly. Part of it was the weekend approaching. Part of it was... this invitation. Sort of.
FallingSunset: Sounds good.
—
"Liking someone makes you stingy."
Jiang Ying stared at that line, biting her straw, thoughts drifting. Her grapefruit soda was nearly gone.
A ping from her computer—it was an email from Zhou Qingqing, with a document attached.
She opened it: several pages outlining rough character designs and plot ideas.
Zhicheng Studio had been founded two years ago. Their game "Little World" launched officially late last year—a casual cooking-themed mobile game aimed at young players. It blended restaurant simulation with light RPG mechanics. Players took on the role of Su Xiao, the protagonist, rediscovering lost memories and making new friends through food, encountering various whimsical events along the way.
Back when touch-screen phones first came out, offline games had been all the rage. But with phones getting more powerful, real-time online battles now dominated. However, those games often took ten to thirty minutes per match—not ideal for quick breaks.
Little World was different. A story chapter could be finished in just a few minutes. Frequent updates kept players hooked like an ongoing webcomic. Plus, the game's soothing visuals and mouthwatering food art had earned it the nickname "The Most Delicious Game Ever."
Though Jiang Ying had studied art, she worked in planning now thanks to Li Zhicheng's suggestion. She rarely drew anymore—except in her free time.
But staring at the draft on screen, an image slowly began to form in her mind.
She couldn't resist. She got up, grabbed her drawing tablet, and booted up her software.
The male lead's profile read:
Jian Ying: Café owner, 32 years old. Dark brown hair and eyes. Wears pale blue shirts and dress pants. Silver-rimmed glasses. Gentle and composed, polite but distant. Backstory unknown.
The scene: Jian Ying sits in the corner of a café, holding a book. Steam rises from a cup of coffee on the table. Outside, cherry blossoms bloom in full glory—spring in the air.
Not too difficult.
Jiang Ying slipped on her headphones, music playing, and started sketching.
Maybe it was coincidence, or maybe she'd been going to Cloud's Edge too often lately—but as the lines took shape, the figure began to resemble Yun Xian.
By the time she finished the sketch and zoomed in to add the final detail—a tiny mole beneath his left eye—she suddenly realized... this wasn't Jian Ying anymore. It was Yun Xian.
Flushing with guilt, she erased the mole. Then, determined not to be obvious, she started adjusting the facial features.
But her earlier sketch had been sharp and proportioned. Every change made it feel... off.
She fussed and redrew. Nothing worked.
A perfectionist by nature, Jiang Ying finally gave up and opened a new canvas, starting over from scratch.
Two hours later—
Frustrated, she buried her face in her arms.
On the screen, the new character sat poised with a book in hand, legs crossed elegantly, a soft smile on his face. Sunlight bathed half his body. A golden cloud-pattern bookmark rested beside the steaming cup on the table.
Outside the window, blossoms fluttered in spring air.
No matter how she changed it, she still saw Yun Xian in Jian Ying.
What was in that coffee—some kind of love potion?
Why was he all she could think about?
Still face-down, she reached into the drawer and pulled out a familiar small box and a lighter.
Marlboro Double Burst—classic flavored cigarettes for women.
She'd smoked stronger ones during college, especially during thesis crunch time. They were bolder but left a lingering smell. These were milder and sweeter.
She flicked the box open and was immediately greeted by a sweet scent. One pink bead, one orange. Strawberry on the inhale, orange on the exhale.
She bit into the pink one gently. A burst of strawberry flavor filled her mouth.
Jiang Ying sat on the small balcony swing. Her orange roses looked droopy—neglected in recent weeks due to work.
She smoked slowly, lazily, gazing at the sky. Somewhere below, a child's laughter echoed—clear and innocent.
It was a sunny Saturday in March. A breeze rustled the neighbor's vines. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the petals in warm amber.
When the cigarette was done, the citrus sweetness still lingered.
She snuffed it out in a cat-shaped ashtray she'd bought on a holiday trip.
That trip had also included a stop at Dajue Temple.
She didn't believe in gods, but while she was there, she knelt on the cushion, closed her eyes, and made a wish anyway.
—Buddha, Bodhisattva, I've been single for too long. Please tell the matchmaker to send me someone good.
Whether Yun Xian was that someone, she didn't know.
But it only took one cigarette for her to realize: she liked him.
Because of his face. Because of the apple-scented candle on that rainy night. Because of two handwritten sticky notes.
And because... when Zhou Qingqing talked about how popular he was, Jiang Ying felt a tiny twinge in her chest.
That strange little ache?
Probably jealousy.
Because liking someone does make you a little stingy.
Chapter 4: The Fourth Cup of Coffee
The "Spring Café" concept was steadily moving forward. Jiang Ying submitted the initial proposal.
When Zhou Qingqing sent the materials to the art department, she included the character concept sketch Jiang Ying had drawn. The artists simply followed her design, and the result turned out great. Even Jiang Ying herself was quite pleased.
Li Zhicheng reviewed everything with little comment. His gaze lingered on the new character's portrait for a while, but he didn't say much—just instructed the planning team to finalize everything and pass it on to the developers.
Everything was going smoothly—except the search for the perfect voice actor for Jian Ying, the new male lead.
A warm, gentle male voice wasn't hard to find, but none of the candidates satisfied Jiang Ying.
Ji Han had practically gone through the entire voice acting circle that fit the character's style, but Jiang Ying still shook her head. "Keep looking."
"Boss," Ji Han looked like she was on the verge of tears, "is it because you already have someone in mind?"
Jiang Ying switched to a new sitting position and shook her head. "No, I don't."
Ji Han groaned dramatically. "I thought you had a standard in your heart, and we were trying to match it. Should we maybe reconsider He Feng?"
He Feng was a well-known voice actor with a warm, elegant tone, especially famous for playing gentle, refined male characters.
Ji Han's suggestion made Jiang Ying reflect for a moment.
She realized she had indeed veered off track. She was supposed to be finding a voice actor for Jian Ying, but somehow, she'd been focused on finding someone who sounded like Yun Xian.
Mixing personal emotions into work was clearly messing things up.
She rubbed her brow with her knuckles. "Alright, let me listen to He Feng's demo again."
Ji Han brightened up immediately and played the audio clip.
He Feng's lines were from the character's first meeting with the female lead:
— "Welcome."
— "Perhaps. Maybe we've met before."
— "Here's your latte—careful, it's hot. Have a lovely weekend."
Even without music or visuals, He Feng's voice was crisp, smooth, and rich. Polished, restrained, and perfectly professional—it carried exactly the kind of polite warmth Jian Ying's character needed.
It really was a solid fit.
"Let's go with He Feng," Jiang Ying decided.
"Yes! I'll contact him right away!" Ji Han practically bounced out of her chair.
Jiang Ying squinted at her. "You're sneaking in some fangirl bias, aren't you?"
Ji Han grinned. "Nooo. I just really think he suits the role! I'm genuinely happy he got picked."
Jiang Ying waved her off with a smile. "Go on, set it up."
The meeting room quieted. Jiang Ying hit play on the audio again.
He Feng was perfect for Jian Ying—but he didn't sound like Yun Xian.
She'd listened to so many voices, and none of them even came close.
Professional voice actors had flawless diction and delivery—crystal-clear tones shaped by rigorous training. But those voices often lacked the natural ease of everyday conversation. There was always a subtle sense of performance.
Yun Xian's voice wasn't stunning at first, but it lingered in your ears. Calm and soft, his words never felt rushed, but they stuck with you.
Compared to He Feng, Yun Xian was more like a breeze through spring leaves or the quiet flow of a forest stream in autumn.
Jiang Ying enjoyed chatting with him—even the small talk brightened her whole day.
She took a sip of her instant coffee. The bitterness spread across her tongue, and she frowned.
After drinking hand-poured coffee for a few days, even her taste buds had become picky.
—
At 6 p.m., Jiang Ying clocked out.
It was only April, but the heat was already stifling. Even by evening, the air hadn't cooled.
Like usual, she pushed open the café's glass door. The bell above chimed, followed by a familiar greeting: "Welcome."
"Jiang-jie, you're here!" Zhao Xinrou was mopping the floor. When she saw Jiang Ying, her smile lit up sweetly.
"Mm. Not many customers today?" Jiang Ying slung her bag off and sat in her usual barstool seat.
Su Cheng came out of the kitchen holding a tray of desserts. Spotting her, he asked, "What would you like to drink today?"
"Something cold, please. It's boiling outside."
"How about a white peach soda?"
"Perfect."
By now, Jiang Ying had become a regular at Yun Bian Café.
Yun Xian wasn't always in, but when he was, Jiang Ying would admire his looks from her seat at the bar—and they'd occasionally chat. When he wasn't around, she'd still stop by for a cup of coffee and a bit of after-work downtime.
Nothing new had developed with Yun Xian yet, but she was now on friendly terms with the two baristas.
Su Cheng, 22, was the café's pastry chef. He had a buzz cut, wore black clothes every day, and looked like a delinquent—but the delicate pastries in the glass case were all made by his hands.
Yun Xian called him "little master." Jiang Ying teased that he was "a tiger at heart, gently sniffing roses."
Zhao Xinrou was still a student, working part-time when she didn't have class. When business was slow, she'd be memorizing English vocabulary with headphones in.
Su Cheng moved quickly. Soon, a glass of sparkling soda sat in front of her, white peach pieces at the bottom, bubbles rising to the top, a mint leaf for garnish.
"Thanks." Jiang Ying took a big sip, instantly relieved from the heat and thirst. Her mood lifted.
Just then, the glass door opened again.
A woman with soft curls, flawless makeup, and a sleek black slip dress walked in. Her perfume drifted faintly in the air.
Jiang Ying recognized her—Wendy, the beautiful photographer from the studio downstairs.
Wendy glanced around and asked casually, "Boss Yun's not here?"
Zhao Xinrou smiled. "He stepped out. Can I get you something?"
Disappointment flashed on Wendy's face. "Just a cold Americano, to-go."
Jiang Ying quietly sipped her drink.
After Wendy left, she finally asked, "So… Boss Yun's not in today?"
Zhao Xinrou replied, "Nope. He went to the hospital."
Jiang Ying tensed. "Is he sick?"
"I think it was for a friend. He got a call and left."
"Oh, I see." Jiang Ying stirred her drink absentmindedly, subtly relieved.
Her phone rang. Seeing the name "Dumb Boss," she picked up immediately. "Hello, Boss."
"Done with work?"
"Yes. What's up?"
Li Zhicheng's voice was hoarse and tired, lacking his usual sharpness. "I'm taking a few days off. If anything comes up, discuss it with Fang Yu. Give me an end-of-day report every evening."
"Got it." Jiang Ying hesitated, then asked, "Boss… are you sick?"
There was a pause. Then: "Yeah."
Before she could ask more, he added, "Stomach issues. No big deal."
"Ah, then please get some rest."
She was just starting to feel sorry for him when his cold, deadpan voice returned: "My phone's linked to the company's security cams. I'll be monitoring you all. Anyone I catch slacking—salary deduction."
"…Okay."
Li Zhicheng had a sharp tongue, high standards, and was terrifying when angry. But outside of pre-launch crunch weeks, he was actually pretty decent.
Considering he was a single guy without anyone to take care of him, Jiang Ying decided this was the perfect time to score some brownie points.
In her sweetest voice, she asked, "Boss, which hospital are you at?"
His reply was classic Li Zhicheng: "Why? Want to witness my suffering and laugh behind my back?"
Jiang Ying chuckled. "No, just wanted to stop by on behalf of the company."
After a brief pause, he grunted, "People's Hospital. 16th floor. Don't bring flowers or fruit. Buy me a bowl of preserved egg and pork congee. I'll reimburse."
"Okay, on my way."
She hung up, grabbed her bag, and waved goodbye to Su Cheng and Zhao Xinrou. "I'm off!"
Room A76, 16th Floor of People's Hospital.
Li Zhicheng lay lazily in bed wearing striped hospital pajamas. His thick black hair made his face appear even paler.
"Not eating anymore?"
The takeout box on the table was nearly untouched.
Lying on his side and playing with his phone, Li Zhicheng snapped, "It tastes bitter. You brought me plain congee—couldn't you at least order something flavorful?"
Yun Xian crossed his arms, looking at him like a father dealing with a rebellious teenager.
"If you're feeling so lousy now, why did you drink so much last night?"
Another jab at the wound. Li Zhicheng yanked the blanket over his head, dramatically ending the conversation.
Yun Xian cleaned up the table, muttering, "When Zhou Yi left the country, you drowned yourself in alcohol. Now she's back, and you're drinking again. Real poetic symmetry."
A muffled voice came from under the blanket. "So what? Can't I drink a little when I'm in a bad mood?"
Yun Xian pulled the blanket off him. "A little? Dude, you drank an entire bottle of baijiu on an empty stomach. Do you even realize how serious that is?"
A grown man, now groveling, Li Zhicheng tried to act cute: "Xianxian, my dear Xianxian, please go home. Dada's waiting for you to feed him."
Yun Xian shook his head in disbelief as he tucked him back in. "I'm leaving. Call me if anything happens tonight."
"Okay!" Li Zhicheng blew him a kiss. Yun Xian shuddered at the cringe and called him a dumbass.
Dada was Li Zhicheng's orange tabby cat—named after money, of course. The full meaning: "A pile of cash," wishing for wealth and fortune.
Li Zhicheng had passed out from a hangover and woke up at noon with stomach pain. Yun Xian had brought him to the hospital, but now the poor cat hadn't eaten all day.
Walking out of the ward, Yun Xian sighed. Why was it that whenever Li Zhicheng and Zhou Yi had drama, he was always the one suffering?
He was thinking of how to subtly leak the news of Li Zhicheng's hospitalization to Zhou Yi when a voice called out behind him:
"Boss Yun!"
The voice was full of surprise and rang loudly down the quiet hallway.
Realizing she'd shouted too loudly in a hospital, Jiang Ying quickly covered her mouth and jogged over.
She was just about to ask why he was there when she remembered—Zhao Xinrou had said he went to visit a friend.
So the words in her head twisted into something else: "What a coincidence."
Yun Xian nodded and asked, "What are you doing here?"
Jiang Ying lifted the takeout bag in her hand. "Visiting my boss. He's sick."
His gaze dropped to the bag, and one brow lifted.
Thinking of Li Zhicheng's whiny attitude in the ward, Yun Xian smirked and muttered, "Still squeezing his employees dry, even like this."
"What was that?" Jiang Ying asked.
"Nothing. Go ahead. I'm heading out," Yun Xian replied.
"Oh, okay. Bye."
"Bye."
After parting ways with Yun Xian, Jiang Ying found the ward and gently pushed the door open. At the far end, she saw Li Zhicheng lying in bed.
She walked over. "Boss."
Li Zhicheng lit up like he'd seen a savior. For the first time ever, he greeted her with rare enthusiasm: "You're here!"
"The congee's still warm. Eat up." Jiang Ying set up the tray table. Besides the congee, she'd also ordered some custard buns. Once the lid was lifted, a delicious aroma filled the room.
Just as Li Zhicheng scooped up a spoonful of congee, his phone screen lit up with a new message.
He glanced at it—and his hand trembled. The spoon fell into the bowl with a splash.
[Jianshan: How's the congee?]
Li Zhicheng looked around the room, panicked.
"Boss, what's wrong?" Jiang Ying asked, puzzled.
Recovering a bit, Li Zhicheng narrowed his eyes and asked, "Who did you see on your way up here?"
"Huh? No one," Jiang Ying replied, baffled.
That made it even more suspicious!
He threw off the blanket, grabbed his phone, and furiously typed:
[Zhicheng: WHERE did you install a camera?!]
[Jianshan: In your brain. Had the doctor implant a chip while you were unconscious.]
[Zhicheng: ???]
For a moment, Li Zhicheng actually felt a dull pain in his skull. Was it psychological?
Seeing him clutching his head, Jiang Ying asked, "Boss, do you have a headache? Should I call the doctor?"
"No. Xiao Jiang, take the congee away. I suddenly lost my appetite."
"Alright. I'll leave it here in case you're hungry later."
His phone lit up again.
[Jianshan: Ran into Jiang Ying just now. I'm guessing you sent her to get the congee?]
[Jianshan: Don't eat too much. Just enough to taste. Don't overdo it.]
Li Zhicheng wanted to slam his phone into the wall.
[Zhicheng: YOU SCARED ME SO BAD I ALMOST NEEDED BRAIN SURGERY.]
Yun Xian chuckled on his end, shaking his head. "What an idiot."
And so, the hospital soap opera ended. Li Zhicheng waved his hand like an emperor summoning his court official. "Xiao Jiang, bring back the congee. I've changed my mind."
Jiang Ying gave him a look that said are you serious, but did as he asked.
—
On the way back, Jiang Ying opened WeChat and posted a new update—blocking her boss and colleagues from viewing it:
"Boss is sick. His brain is broken.
Shocking, right? I didn't even know he had a brain."
Ten minutes later, Yun Xian gave the post a like.
Chapter 5: The Fifth Cup of Coffee
Yun Xian returned to his apartment, took off his shoes, switched on the lights, and placed his shopping bags by the entrance. First thing he did was call out, "Dada."
The furry master of the house slowly sauntered out from the living room, rubbing its chubby face against Yun Xian's pant leg.
Yun Xian squatted down and scooped the cat into his arms, stroking its soft fur. "Hungry, huh?"
After refilling Dada's water and food bowl, Yun Xian sorted out the items from the shopping bag and finally collapsed onto the sofa with a long sigh.
While Dada happily munched on dinner, Yun Xian's stomach was still empty.
Too lazy to cook, he grabbed a bag of bear-shaped cookies from Li Zhicheng's stash on the coffee table. He popped one into his mouth—sickeningly sweet chocolate. Not his thing, but high-calorie snacks were filling at least.
After a couple more bites and a gulp of cold water, he leaned back, letting the quiet of the night settle in. The city lights flickered outside as the darkness deepened.
It felt a little lonely. Normally, if both of them were home, Li Zhicheng would drag him to watch soccer or play games. But now that idiot was lying in a hospital bed, and the apartment felt a little too quiet.
Remembering something he'd been meaning to do, Yun Xian picked up his phone and typed up a WeChat Moment:
"In memory of Li Zhicheng's youthful glory."
He attached a photo he'd secretly snapped before leaving the hospital—Li Zhicheng in striped hospital clothes, looking pale and dazed. Perfect blackmail material.
He limited the post's visibility—only Li Zhicheng and Zhou Yi could see it. To drive the point home, he even added a few fake comments:
"Overdid it with the booze. Stomach's a mess."
"No need to worry too much, junior. Your beloved senior is stable."
"Thanks for everyone's concern—patient's emotions are now under control."
He chuckled at his own mischief, marveling at the lengths he went to for his bro's love life.
Li Zhicheng's reaction was swift and expected:
[Zhicheng: ???]
[Zhicheng: Delete it NOW!]
[Zhicheng: Which junior's asking about me? Why can't I see the comments?]
[Jianshan: No junior, just Zhou Yi. Group-only view.]
[Zhicheng: WTF? You didn't block her—you ONLY let her see it?!]
Five minutes later, Zhou Yi commented:
"Someone please treat this man's delusional teenage syndrome."
Yun Xian burst out laughing.
[Zhicheng: What does she mean by that?]
[Jianshan: That you're immature.]
[Zhicheng: Me, immature? She should treat her princess syndrome instead!]
Yun Xian rubbed his neck, uninterested in playing middleman for these two clowns.
[Jianshan: Get some rest, alright?]
After closing the chat, he scrolled through his feed. He didn't have many friends on WeChat—mostly old classmates and ex-colleagues. Nothing caught his eye until he saw a familiar profile.
Jiang Ying.
Her avatar and username were perfectly matched—a soft, orange-pink sunset at dusk.
Most of her posts were short musings—ranting about work, weather complaints, weekend plans, and sometimes a quick sketch.
Today's post was a picture of a bowl of duck blood vermicelli soup.
"Boss treated me to a midnight snack! He's the most handsome and amazing man in the world!"
Li Zhicheng had liked the post. Poor guy, probably thrilled over the flattery, unaware of the roast he'd just endured in private.
Jiang Ying was not at all what she first appeared to be. On the outside, she looked soft and quiet. But the more you got to know her, the more you realized how fun and genuine she was.
Yun Xian liked browsing her posts, especially when she mentioned Li Zhicheng. Her admiration and sarcasm were equally sincere.
The food photo looked extra appetizing thanks to good lighting. Yun Xian's stomach growled again.
Eventually, hunger won. Following Gabriel García Márquez's advice about living honestly, he gave in and sent her a message.
[Jianshan: Mind sharing where you got the duck blood noodles?]
She replied instantly.
[Sunset Orange: Wait a sec! I'll send the shop info to you.]
[Sunset Orange: If you like this kind of food, you HAVE to try the real deal in Nanjing someday.]
[Jianshan: Sounds good.]
[Sunset Orange: Didn't peg you as someone who eats this stuff.]
[Jianshan: ?]
[Sunset Orange: You look too celestial. Like someone who lives off dewdrops.]
[Sunset Orange: Probably even pick oil off vegetables.]
He laughed. That was a first—neither an insult nor a compliment.
[Jianshan: I don't eat it often, that's true.]
[Sunset Orange: But this place really is the best in town. Super clean, right on the next street over from your café.]
[Jianshan: Got it. Thanks.]
She sent a sticker—a pink bunny slurping noodles.
Later that night, Yun Xian sent Li Zhicheng a picture: a big, steaming bowl of duck blood noodles drizzled in chili oil, topped with cilantro.
[Jianshan: Let's go to Nanjing sometime.]
[Zhicheng: I cast a curse—you're gaining 20 pounds overnight. Bye bye abs.]
[Jianshan: Reversed back at you.]