Chapter Text
Xie Lian couldn't take his eyes off of him.
It had been little more than five minutes since he first entered the building, clad in a deep black trench coat that swished around his ankles as he stepped in through the double doors, a bell chiming overhead to announce his arrival.
He wore a tight-fitted red turtleneck the color of blood, patterned slacks and leather boots. His ears, neck and the slender digits of his fingers were adorned in decorative silver jewelry.
Xie Lian wondered if he always dressed so nicely because of a job he was coming here to take a breather from — after all, he arrived at the same time every day (3:45 pm on the dot, to be precise. Not that he was paying a whole lot of attention). Or, maybe he just had a keen sense of style.
He thought it might be a bit of both.
In the end, Xie Lian decided that it didn't matter much.
What did was that each instance the man graced the homey corner café with his presence, it wasn't only Xie Lian whose breath was stolen right out of his chest, stuttering and stalling like he'd run a marathon.
Shi Qingxuan wiggled her eyebrows from her place at his side, bumping her hip against his, and smiled knowingly, “Lian, isn’t that the guy who fixed the espresso machine?”
The memory of it sent a shock through him, tingling up his spine, and he nodded unintelligibly. He was sure that she noticed how he stubbornly avoided elaborating any further, occupying his hands with a wet towel and a spray bottle of cleaner to begin wiping down any easily accessible surface.
He thanked the heavens that Shi Qingxuan was the understanding, open-minded type, and that she'd been more than relieved to hear that he had help regardless of where it came from.
The morning following what she had started to refer to as 'The Great Espresso Incident’, he'd come in a rush an hour early, hoping to explain all that happened before she inevitably saw it while playing back the camera footage and, if possible, keep his job by the end of it.
Shi Qingxuan had ushered another employee to the front so she could lead Xie Lian to a booth, offering him a small bottle of water to drink and a blueberry muffin that he remembered scarfing down once he'd settled down enough to realize how hungry he was.
She’d loosely gripped his hand while he talked, and in his erratic ramblings, didn't notice right away the soft manner in which she hummed in response, nodding occasionally to urge him on. Needless to say he was still working there four months later, and had thankfully never had to man a shift by himself again.
That it became necessary at all was the result of poor management left for Shi Qingxuan to fix on her own, courtesy of the previous owner.
The day she left early had been due to an emergency involving her older brother, Shi Wudu.
Things were running pretty slowly for a mid-afternoon on a Monday, and he assured her that he would be fine on his own for a while. As opposed to firing him when he recounted the interesting turnout, she broke down in hysterics when Xie Lian clearly had no more to say, distraught with how awful she felt about the whole affair as she sobbed into a bundle of tissues he handed her, eyes puffy and rimmed with red.
Since then, he kept a small pack of them in the front pocket of his green and white apron; his poor manager (who was a few years younger than himself) did have a habit of shedding tears, and Xie Lian would rather not have her dripping snot onto her well-ironed shirt.
“What did you say his name was, Lian?” Shi Qingxuan asked, and he got the sense that she just wanted to hear as much gossip as she could about Xie Lian's mysterious new…acquaintance? Friend?
Honestly, he wasn't sure what to call him. They'd spent almost a whole day together, working and talking with seamless harmony, yet he knew next to nothing about him aside from his name and his talent with a wrench.
“...Hua Cheng. But he's asked me to call him San Lang.” Xie Lian replied, familiar now with how warm the endearment sounded on his tongue. After all, he'd sat in his room and repeated it in his mind and aloud an embarrassing, borderline creepy amount of times, mentally scolding himself for being too awkward to ask for his contact information when he had the chance.
A couple times Shi Qingxuan had pointed out, not unkindly, that he still did, especially with how often Hua Cheng came in. But, would that even be appropriate? He couldn't exactly recreate the circumstances that had led to Hua Cheng's involvement, and Xie Lian doubted he would appreciate that, either.
He made a fool of himself often, but even someone like him still had some class. Hua Cheng just as easily could have left him his contact information if he desired, and seeing how common it was for customers to do so whenever their flirtatious barista Pei Ming was on the clock, Xie Lian was rather under the impression that it was not as frowned upon as it would be if it were an employee handing out invitations. Ulterior motives or not, he didn't need that type of rumor spreading.
Attention pointedly focused elsewhere, he didn't see the way Shi Qingxuan's eyes went wide before she hurriedly schooled her expression when Xie Lian turned to face her again. He felt a little hot around the collar. Maybe the heater inside the café was turned up too high…
Xie Lian sighed softly under his breath.
Four months. Four months he'd watched Hua Cheng from afar, able to do little more than yearn to know him as more than just the enviously confident, savvy machine fixer he portrayed himself as.
There had been stolen looks and shy smiles exchanged, so many, yet he recalled each one as vividly as when it happened.
On a couple of occasions, he bravely glanced over to that small booth Hua Cheng was always tucked in, typing away on his laptop or sketching in a leather bound notebook.
Other times he’d feel a faint burn somewhere on his backside, like someone was staring at him — and if he turned quickly enough, he would find the man watching him pensively, appearing to study him.
Hua Cheng grinned unabashedly whenever Xie Lian caught him in the act, sitting forward in his seat. Proud to have been discovered, almost preening.
Unlike Hua Cheng, who clearly wasn't opposed to a staring contest, Xie Lian could only hold his gaze for so long before he had to look away and try to make himself appear useful.
No matter what, though, his eyes drifted back again and again afterwards, and they frequently found Hua Cheng with a delicate smile on his lips as he outlined a rough sketch with his worn graphite pencil.
Xie Lian's knees wobbled at the memory, and he had to steady himself by gripping the counter so hard his knuckles turned white. He ignored Shi Qingxuan's telltale giggle from behind him as she scuttled around refilling syrups, keeping up with other various odds and ends.
The first time Xie Lian saw Hua Cheng, he was hardly more than a week into his new job. His hands trembled as he fought with the espresso machine that was practically spitting smoke — it was at this point he started to give up on saving it in an orderly fashion.
There was already a line almost to the door behind the first customer, and he mentally recited the description of it in his mind at a frantic pace in order to not forget.
It was only a flat white, and he had a container of freshly steamed milk sitting on the counter nearby, but he couldn't finish the drink off when the final and most important component of the entire thing was currently having a loud and very dramatic seizure behind him.
He hadn’t even glanced up from what he was doing, despite the endless string of apologies threatening to spill from his lips, and not when he took the young man's order, immediately overcome by the warm, soothing sound of his voice replying to his hasty "One minute, please."
Xie Lian had wished he would speak again, because by then its relaxing effect had worn off, and he was in dire need of a fix, scrubbing down the spots he'd made a mess and staving off the hot flush of heat against his face. The corners of his eyes burned. He'd rarely ever felt so overwhelmed, so powerless in what should have been a completely manageable situation.
Shi Qingxuan would know what to do — or at least how to calm down a restless crowd, her cheery voice and bright smiles enough to ease even the most difficult of customers. He himself was fairly handy, but with the combined pressure of the imminent implosion of one of their most necessary assets and the several sets of eyes watching him struggle with only selfish desires in their hearts, it was like all sense and composure had abandoned him.
As though the youth standing at the head of the line had read his mind, he slowly leaned beside the register in front of Xie Lian.
He stood there with his back slightly bent to accommodate his height, left hand propped underneath the side of his jaw, the other arm leisurely resting on the counter. His expression was one of unmistakable fondness as he spoke just loud enough for Xie Lian to hear him,
“Gege looks troubled.”
Xie Lian's eyes snapped up, narrowing a little in suspicion. He wanted to be irritated at the humor in the stranger's tone — it sounded like he was laughing at his failure, but he quickly realized that this wasn't the case whatsoever. Not only did the man appear genuinely sympathetic, his unwavering smile was inexplicably kind. He quietly met the barista's gaze, concerned.
The shallow, panicked breaths that had been heaving in his chest halted immediately, punched out of him with force.
He couldn't draw in any air, or even think. The muddled haze keeping him running on autopilot and fumbling through the disaster faded into a blanketed numbness. The only image that remained was a picturesque view of the young man languidly positioned before him, all sharp lines and dark, alluring beauty.
The youth’s long, silky black hair was drawn up in a high, elegant ponytail, teeming with natural waves he hadn't bothered to tame.
It poured over his shoulder as he leaned closer, each strand seeming to breathe with him in calm serenity.
His entire being screamed of self-assured confidence, and if Xie Lian wasn't mistaken, a bit of well-earned arrogance — and oh, did it work for him.
One eye as dark as a shard of obsidian peered back at him, twinkling with mirth and intrigue in equal measure.
The right was curiously hidden behind a black patch with an intricate design, the strings holding it there disappearing into wild raven tresses.
Wow.
Wait, wow?
Was that really the best he could do?
Yes, it was — right now, ‘wow’ certainly was the only word worthy of describing this person, though if he had an oxford on hand he could definitely find about fifty other more accurate descriptors, even if none of them could really come close to capturing the essence of the man across from him .
Xie Lian resisted the urge to slap his burning cheeks in a vain attempt to regain what sanity he remained clutching onto like a lifesaver, staring openly at the stranger very evidently awaiting his reply.
His heart did a few speedy backflips, pathetically deflating in disappointment when the customer glanced away to look at something off to the side. It filled like a balloon once the other fixed his attention back on him.
He tried to swallow, and the resulting sensation was like choking on sandpaper, throat clenching painfully.
“If gege would let this one be intrusive, he may know how to fix your machine.” The man claimed in that silvery voice of his, the one that somehow eased each and every worry he had, some well before he knew they were there.
Xie Lian had done nothing besides stare for the better part of the last minute, finally drawing himself together to exclaim, “Y-You do? I, yes — that would be—”
Xie Lian was about to agree when he realized how easily he was being swept away by the other's eagerness to help.
He knew nothing about him, and inviting someone who wasn't an employee or on a job interview could be a big mistake on his part. It wouldn't be difficult for the situation to be taken advantage of, and at this rate he was practically opening his arms and begging for exactly that.
There was some comfort in knowing that cameras were all around monitoring the shop, and if he found that the cash register had been meddled with, this man's face was so distinct he'd have a hard time evading the authorities.
And then there was the unwavering peace of mind, the sense of security and safety that had mysteriously already buried itself within him. Just a tentative glance at the latter earned him a gentle smile, and his heart stirred.
Xie Lian wanted to trust him. How could he not?
“Uhm,” he began in a mumble, and he thought that the man really had to be psychic, because he predicted yet another of Xie Lian's burning questions and cut in smoothly to spare him the time,
“This one is called Hua Cheng. But, I'd prefer if gege called me San Lang.” The youth said, the corner of his sharp eye crinkling. It looked like he was privately reveling in an inside joke, though for as warm as his voice was when he suggested it, Xie Lian doubted it came from a place of negativity.
Xie Lian thought he much resembled a fox, curved lips always shadowed by an ever present smile. His one visible eye formed a crescent as it cast its utmost focus upon him, never straying except to take in the state of the downed espresso machine still feebly spewing puffs of smoke.
“San Lang.” Xie Lian echoed in a light daze, his throbbing heart filling once more as butterflies beat their wings against his ribs.
He was so weak, but it was so simple to take pleasure in the way the soft syllables rolled off his tongue, sweeter than honey.
The way Xie Lian repeated his name had to have come as a small shock, because Hua Cheng's eye widened a fraction as he blinked, taken aback by Xie Lian's readiness to call him by his requested title.
That adorably caught off guard look was gone as quickly as it appeared, Hua Cheng beaming brighter than ever. He was still looking for the go-ahead from Xie Lian, and now it was his turn to falter.
“Right! Right, ah — hold on just a second.” He gestured over the counter for Hua Cheng to follow him to the side, and soon threw open the handleless door where only workers exited and entered to mop up spills or deliver drinks to customers. Hua Cheng was waiting there patiently for him, stepping forward at Xie Lian's nod of assent, only to raise a brow when the uniformed man abruptly placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him going any farther.
“Gege?”
Xie Lian's cheeks warmed, and he quickly retracted his hand, letting it fall stiffly to his side. “My apologies, I — it’s just, your shoes…” he trailed off, and Hua Cheng tilted his head to look as he explained, “The floors are very slippery, and I don't want San Lang to fall. I think we might have an extra pair of non-slip ones somewhere, if I can…” he didn't need to say it, that he was in a rush to get Hua Cheng in and out as fast as he possibly could.
“Take all the time you need, gege. San Lang will stay here.” Hua Cheng promised, and something about the way he said it really gave the illusion that Xie Lian could take as long as he had to, without having to worry that Hua Cheng might wander. He smiled gratefully, briefly reaching out to squeeze the youth's arm in sincere apology, and hastily ran to the storage room located in the back. Some digging around revealed a set that looked to be about Hua Cheng's size, and he hurried to give them to him.
Hua Cheng dutifully slipped off his boots and traded them for the pair Xie Lian brought, quickly and efficiently lacing them up.
Once there was much less chance of him taking a spill, Xie Lian showed him to the espresso machine. For a minute or two Hua Cheng studied it, prodding around with different tools he'd taken from a set Xie Lian also fetched at his request, wearing a concentrated expression.
In the meantime, Xie Lian reluctantly made his peace with the fact that some of these drinks weren't going to be completed in the order they'd arrived, and explained so to anyone willing to listen over the chatter inside the crowded café. He even offered full refunds to those not wanting to wait, mindfully aware that it would probably be coming out of his own paycheck.
To his pleasant surprise, not a single person came forward seeking compensation.
Most of them had by now retreated to seats nearby, observing the happenings behind the counter like it was a particularly riveting drama on television.
While he was missing in action he thought he'd heard the sound of Hua Cheng's voice projecting within the space, like he was speaking to the huddled crowd impatiently awaiting their coffee.
When he returned, the noise had died down, but Hua Cheng still stood obediently where he'd been left. He only shot Xie Lian a friendly, comforting wink when asked if he was responsible for the lack of tension in the air, and he'd fought down a laugh, half-heartedly reprimanding him.
He was sure Hua Cheng could tell just how appreciative he really was for his intervention, as he was too much of a people pleaser to take a crowd by the reins like his other co-workers did when fed up.
It was impressive, actually — they were even more docile and well-behaved than when Shi Qingxuan stepped in. A part of him was tempted to ask just what sort of method Hua Cheng employed, but he also wondered if maybe it wasn't smart to go searching for answers that may have a dubious foundation.
They worked in quiet unison, Xie Lian slapping order stickers on cups and handing finished drinks over, most of them juices or menu items not requiring espresso. He moved around Hua Cheng, the dark haired man side-stepping him with ease or ducking his head when Xie Lian reached past him to grab something he needed, occasionally even handing it to him himself, as though they'd done this dance together for years and he was familiar with the layout of the shop and Xie Lian, too.
A couple customers opted to alter their order for something he could do at the moment, paying or being given back the difference, and the stiffness in his shoulders gradually ebbed away with the success of each satisfied smile he received as the line of unfulfilled tasks dwindled.
They were doing this. They could do this.
“Is it going well, San Lang?” Xie Lian asked, passing a very excitable looking young man with a mane of brown curls his café au lait. As soon as he had it in his grasp, he bounded over to a pallid looking man sitting in the back of the room with dull, shoulder length hair and an easily forgettable kind of face.
He pointedly leaned away from his companion when he came into his personal space but made no other attempts to evade him, smiling in acknowledgement as the other sat at the same table across from him.
“Very well. This one should be done with gege's machine soon.” Hua Cheng replied without hesitation, twisting the wrench in his hand against an especially stubborn bolt.
Loose strands of hair were hanging over his forehead, curled from the steam, his fair complexion lightly flushed. Xie Lian bit his bottom lip a little, suppressing the laugh trying to fight its way to freedom. It took a special kind of pretty to still be this eye catching while so visibly frazzled (and frizzy.)
Since his entrance as an honorary employee, the café had become a hotspot for eager onlookers and there were hardly any available seats left by the time Hua Cheng was finishing up. Once Hua Cheng had tuned himself into the world beyond the bubble he'd crafted around them, he seemed to say without words, frowning impatiently, 'Do none of you have somewhere better to be?'
Xie Lian had assumed he might be the confrontational type, and he realized some time later that Hua Cheng likely settled for glaring knowing it may reflect badly on their business to verbally express annoyance, and he wouldn't be there to deflect the heat after tonight.
He was reaching up to wipe the sweat from his brow when Xie Lian gently nudged him, handing over a cool, damp towel.
The smile Hua Cheng gave him almost had him seeing stars. He was shining, quite literally, as his pale skin glowed with a thin layer of perspiration, but he didn't seem to mind. His eye gleamed, wide grin accentuated by the sharpness of his canines.
“Gege is so thoughtful,” he said softly, pressing the fabric to his forehead as he continued working undeterred with his other hand.
“Mn.” Xie Lian mused, because it was impossible to say anything else with the memory of Hua Cheng looking at him that way.
The crowd around them only began to disperse when the early autumn sky darkened to a heavy gray, and Hua Cheng had long since mended the faulty espresso machine. Xie Lian was sweeping up the floors, humming a quiet tune under his breath. He jumped a bit at the sound of Hua Cheng speaking from somewhere behind him, turning around to see him draped along a comfortable red armchair, one long leg crossed elegantly over the other. Xie Lian felt that he wouldn't look out of place on a throne, elevated above everyone else and with all kinds of treasures littering the ground at his feet.
“Gege, aren't you forgetting something?”
Xie Lian jolted out of his fantasy as though electrified, gripping the broom in hand tighter. He faltered, picking up his dust pan from the floor.
Pondering Hua Cheng's question for a moment, he filtered through the list he'd made in his head of the chores he still had to do before closing but couldn't think of anything. “...Am I?”
Hua Cheng's eye shone knowingly, and goodness, he really was the prettiest person Xie Lian had ever met in his life—
“My flat white.”
Oh, no.
Oh, no!
How many hours had it been?!
Hua Cheng had slaved away for nothing at all, so generously offering his help at no charge, going above and beyond to ensure Xie Lian wasn't overwhelmed alone. The least he could have done was remember to prepare his drink, and he hadn't done even that.
Xie Lian was in the midst of a panic when Hua Cheng's next comment sent him spiraling further, “Actually, gege, I have to admit something…”
The dark haired youth sat up in his seat. “It wasn't a flat white at all. That was the order of someone else ahead of me, but they left without saying anything. I suppose they got impatient. Trash.” His tone was light at first, slipping to a hiss at the final word, his lip curling in undisguised offense.
He wished more than anything that it was reassuring, but right now, Xie Lian only felt disappointment in himself as he pressed his back against the rounded front counter, burying his face in his hands.
“I didn't take your order.” He whispered in disbelief, and, sensing Xie Lian's inner turmoil, Hua Cheng frowned. He was fiddling with something in his hands, twisting and pulling at it with care.
“Gege,” Hua Cheng murmured. When Xie Lian refused to lower his hands, he spoke with more insistence, “Gege, please look at me.”
In spite of everything, his heart stirred at the gentle command. Xie Lian peeked at him from in between his fingers, Hua Cheng's impossibly handsome face smiling back kindly.
He made it look like the simplest thing in the world.
“I never had an order,” Hua Cheng confessed, the fidgeting, or what Xie Lian believed was fidgeting, growing more insistent. “It seemed cozy in here, so I was just planning to sit down and do some work on the computer. I came up when I saw gege battling so valiantly with the espresso machine—”
“San Lang!” Xie Lian gasped out, and at the brilliant sound of Hua Cheng's laughter, the anxious giddiness welled up in his chest and escaped him in short bursts at first, then fully fledged upheavals. He felt it deep in the pit of his stomach as he lost all semblance of control and dignity, the sheer joy tearing from his throat until he couldn't bear it anymore.
His breathing was ragged when he at last began to come down from that high, chest rising and falling in tandem with his airy chuckles. He hadn’t laughed this hard in a long, long time, and though the aftermath had his heart racing out of his chest and grasping for his sanity, he thought it might be in competition for the best feeling he'd ever experienced, hand in hand with whatever this maddening dizziness Hua Cheng imposed on him was.
He'd all but forgotten about sweeping, wiping at his eyes and shaking with quiet laughter. Xie Lian heard soft bristles raking against the floor again and glanced to the side to find Hua Cheng finishing the job, and he grimaced, “San Lang, don't — please, you’ve done too much today—”
“San Lang enjoys being of use to gege.” Hua Cheng answered calmly, as if no other reason was needed. Xie Lian stared at him, a bit disbelieving.
Did this kind of person seriously exist?
“Still, San Lang should stop for now. I can't allow this.” Xie Lian shook his head, making an attempt at gently grabbing the broom from him when Hua Cheng swiftly moved to avoid him. He raised a singular eyebrow at Xie Lian, then kept sweeping, moving in another direction as though nothing had happened.
Xie Lian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“San Lang—” he tried again to reach for the broom, and Hua Cheng whirled around to keep it away, steadily collecting scraps and dirt lingering on the floor.
He couldn’t believe it, standing there uselessly for a moment before launching another attack, this time grasping the man's wrist.
With incredible speed, Hua Cheng switched the broom to his other hand and lifted the arm Xie Lian was holding onto.
The motion had him falling forward slightly, stubbornly holding on as he stood on the edges of his toes, eyes round and lips parted in shock.
And Hua Cheng smirked.
“Gege, so forward.” He teased in an unmistakably sultry tone of voice, making Xie Lian's ears burn in shame. He released Hua Cheng in a hurry, stammering nonsense, and the other chuckled deeply. To make matters worse, he still withheld the broom from him and urged him to sit down and take a break.
Surely he was the one in need of a break, but Xie Lian plopped down on a barstool anyway at his additional encouragement, watching Hua Cheng sweep with a certain contentment that almost made him sigh aloud.
He wished just a handful of their employees were half as competent as Hua Cheng, who didn’t even work here.
Twenty minutes later, Xie Lian showed Hua Cheng out of the building so he could fully close down the shop for the night, and though Hua Cheng offered to wait for him outside, Xie Lian insisted that he didn't want to hold him up.
Truthfully he wouldn't mind the company going home, but he could see the tiredness in the man's gait, his half-lidded eye sleepy yet brimming with warmth.
The resulting blush warming his cheeks was enough to keep him in the game for a little while longer. As he latched the front door, he recalled the sight of Hua Cheng's retreating back moving down the opposite street.
Xie Lian had lingered there on the sidewalk, waiting for him to be entirely gone from his field of vision, when Hua Cheng stopped, turned his head, and smiled.
He gawked, waving back a bit too enthusiastically, and he swore he saw the younger man's shoulders shaking with laughter as he continued on his way.
Ah, he was definitely making fun of him, then...
Following his departure, Xie Lian zipped back inside the building.
The crisp, cold air swirled around his lungs as he leaned all of his weight against the door, heart pounding so aggressively in his chest he thought he might be at risk of having it claw its way out to freedom.
When he had calmed enough to breathe again with some assurance, he walked through the café and to the coffee stations up front, navigating to the far back nook almost hidden next to the separate room where they stored extra supplies.
Untying his apron, he lifted the strap over his head and hung it on a hook beside Shi Qingxuan's, exchanging it for the worn winter coat that, after years of use, did little to block the chilly winds. He shrugged it on, pushing his arms through the sleeves and grabbing his equally scrappy beige tote bag.
It had certainly seen better days, with unknowable stains littered about that he'd tried and failed to wash out in the past, and one too many frayed ends. It hadn’t broken on him yet, though, and Xie Lian considered that a small blessing with how abysmal his luck seemed to be in recent years.
It wasn't until he was making his way to the doors that he spotted what he thought was a crumpled, leftover napkin at first, sitting on the table closest to the entrance. Xie Lian paused, stepping over to examine it.
He cautiously picked it up by a loose end, holding it to the light streaming into the shop from across the road, and almost dropped it in awe of what he found.
It wasn’t a napkin at all, but a piece of soft white parchment folded over and over again to create numerous fragile petals, and what he held onto was not a loose end, but a dainty stem.
A pure white flower, carved devotedly by nimble fingers.