The morning sun filtered through the glass pane of The Desire café, casting a warm, golden glow across the polished wooden counters and the neat rows of ceramic mugs. It was supposed to be a quiet sanctuary, a place where the rich aroma of freshly roasted espresso beans mixed with the gentle hum of the refrigerator. But today, peace was entirely out of the question.
Kipuka Qiu stood behind the espresso machine, his fingers deftly tamping down freshly ground coffee beans. He wore a soft pastel-yellow apron tied neatly around his waist, the fabric contrasting gently against his pinkish-soft skin. His big doe eyes were focused entirely on the portafilter, trying his absolute best to tune out the rhythmic, unrelenting voice coming from the customer seating area.
"I'm telling you, Xiaoli, his new teaser dropped at midnight, and the views went past ten million in under two hours!" Minjun, the café's most enthusiastic barista, practically vibrated as he wiped down a nearby table.
He paused, holding a damp microfiber cloth like it was a microphone, and sighed dreamily.
"Have you seen the close-up of his eyes? The way that little mole under his left eye catches the stage lights? It's practically illegal. Huang Xing is out to ruin us all."
Qiuqiu let out a soft, patient breath, sliding the portafilter into place with a practiced click. He reached for a pitcher of milk, his small hands wrapping around the steel handle as he began to steam a batch of microfoam. For the past three weeks, this had been his daily reality. It didn't matter if they were talking about album sales, fashion week appearances, or the latest variety show episode—Minjun could turn any conversation back to the country's reigning top idol, Huang Xing.
"You say that every single day, Minjun," Qiuqiu murmured, his voice naturally soft, carrying a gentle, melodic warmth that made customers feel instantly at ease.H
e poured the steamed milk into a ceramic cup, his wrist flicking with practiced precision to etch a delicate heart into the glossy foam.
"Because every single day, he does something new to blow our minds!" Minjun hurried over to the counter, placing the tray of dirty mugs down with a cheerful clatter. He leaned his elbows on the marble surface, resting his chin in his hands as he looked at his boss with pleading eyes.
"Qiuqiu, be honest. Have you even looked him up? Even once? Just type his name into your phone. I promise your aesthetic soul will thank you. Everyone in the country talks about him non-stop, but you live in your own little baking bubble!"
Qiuqiu blinked, his pinkish chubby cheeks puffing out slightly as he offered a mild, apologetic smile. He carefully slid the finished latte across the counter for a waiting customer, offering a polite, "Here is your caramel macchiato, enjoy your morning."
Once the customer walked away with a bright smile, Qiuqiu turned back to his barista, shaking his head gently.
"You know I don't really follow idol culture, Minjun. I have enough trouble keeping track of our inventory costs and making sure Grandma takes her morning vitamins on time. I don't have brain space for national superstars."
"You're twenty-six going on sixty, I swear," Minjun groaned playfully, rolling his eyes upward in mock despair. "You spend all your time baking scones, taking care of your lovely grandma, and making this café run like clockwork. You need a little excitement! A little pop culture sparkle in your life! Just look at a picture. I dare you. One picture."
"I am quite happy with my quiet life, thank you very much," Qiuqiu replied, though a faint, rosy blush dusted the apples of his cheeks just from the playful teasing.
He untied his apron and tossed it neatly over a hook, wiping his hands on a clean towel.
"I'm going to check on the pastry inventory in the back. Keep an eye on the register, please. And try to keep the idol broadcasting volume down just a little bit so our actual customers can order in peace."
"Only because you're too cute to argue with!" Minjun called out cheerfully as Qiuqiu slipped away into the quiet sanctuary of the bakery kitchen.
The kitchen was filled with the comforting, buttery scent of vanilla and rising dough. Qiuqiu leaned back against the cool stainless-steel prep table, letting out a soft sigh. He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out his phone. He unlocked the screen, his thumb hovering over the browser app.
Minjun's endless chatter had finally managed to crack his armor of indifference, but even so, a wave of hesitation washed over him. Why should he care about some glamorous idol on a screen? It felt silly, almost like stepping into a world he didn't belong to. He stared at the blank search bar for a long, quiet moment, his thumb trembling slightly over the glass.
With a soft, reluctant breath, Qiuqiu finally gave in to the persistent itch of curiosity. He tapped the screen and typed "Huang Xing".
The screen refreshed instantly, flooding his display with millions of results, glossy magazine covers, music video stills, and fan club forums. Qiuqiu froze, his big doe eyes widening as the very first image loaded on his screen.
For a long moment, the quiet hum of the kitchen refrigerator seemed to fade entirely into the background. Qiuqiu stared at the screen, his breath hitching in his throat, completely unaware of just how drastically this single, curious search was about to turn his peaceful world upside down.
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