The Bistro by the Sea

The steam from the shower still clung to the bathroom mirror when Hao Hao stepped out, towel lazily draped over his shoulder, his wet hair dark and slightly curled at the ends. He reached for the brown oversized sweatshirt he'd chosen the night before—soft, loose, and casual, paired with matching brown shorts. Nothing flashy. Just… comfortable. He added glasses with rounded black frames—not because he needed them, but because the nerdy aesthetic softened his chubby jawline and made him look a little more "approachable."

Average. That's what he saw in the mirror now. And yet…

There was something different.

That moody, dead-eyed gloom from before—gone. What stared back at him now was someone alive. Someone with an aura.

"Mn. Not bad," he nodded to himself, tugging the hoodie's drawstrings. "Cute nerd on a budget."

Just as he opened the door to leave, the sound of a click echoed beside him. The apartment next door.

He turned.

The girl who stepped out made him blink.

Tanned skin. Loose gym top. Running shorts that exposed toned thighs. Same sharp eyes, same long lashes from before, but this time—she didn't look at him with that tired, pitying glance. No click of the tongue. No dismissive scoff.

Instead, she looked stunned.

"Who are you…?" she muttered.

She blinked, clearly realizing how rude that sounded. "Ah—sorry! You just look… different."

Before he could answer, she hurried off down the stairs, earbuds already in.

Hao Hao smiled to himself. He tugged out his phone and opened his selfie cam, adjusting the light.

In the reflection, he caught it.

A glance.

A single, stolen glance behind her shoulder—aimed right at his butt.

His smile stretched wider.

'So butts are universal, huh…?' he mused. 'Even in a matriarchal world.'

+

The scent of sea salt drifted gently through the wind. Waves rolled in the distance, their crashing rhythm like a steady heartbeat against the shore. And standing in front of it all was Hao Hao, dressed in his best attempt at casual neatness—oversized sweatshirt, clean shorts, glasses perched on his nose. He adjusted his bag, smoothed out his hoodie, and looked up.

"The Bistro by the Sea."

The name was carved into dark, sea-worn wood above the glass doors. Beneath it, vines curled up the fence like sleeping snakes. A chalkboard leaned outside, half-written in perfect cursive with today's specials.

Hao Hao gave a small snort. "Real creative," he muttered to himself.

But even he couldn't lie—it was pretty. There was a charm to it. A warmth. Like the kind of place couples came to argue and make up over red wine. A hidden treasure with just enough taste to feel expensive, but not so much that it pushed you away.

Just as he stepped closer, the door opened with a chime.

Out walked a woman.

She had blonde hair tied into a loose ponytail, sharp cheekbones, and eyes the color of early dawn. Her white shirt was rolled at the sleeves, a black apron tied at her waist, outlining a mature figure that moved with casual confidence. She was tall—not the imposing kind, but the graceful, Western kind you saw on the covers of lifestyle magazines. Her skin had that slight sun-kissed glow of someone who enjoyed walking by the shore more than sitting under umbrellas.

She looked at him, and her lips curled into a welcoming smile.

"You must be Hao Hao," she said. Her voice was rich, mellow, and without a single hint of foreign accent despite her obvious Western features.

Hao Hao blinked. "Y-Yeah. That's me."

"Perfect. I'm Julie. Chinese name… Lie Ju."

"…Pffft." Hao Hao laughed, almost instinctively. "Lie Ju? That's a flower name."

Julie grinned, seemingly pleased by the reaction. "Mn. Orchid. My mother picked it. Said it sounded elegant. But most people just call me Boss Julie around here. You can too, if that's easier."

There was something calming about her presence. Not overly enthusiastic, not distant either. Just the right balance of confidence and warmth.

Julie tilted her head, eyeing him up and down—not in a judgmental way, but like a gardener inspecting a sapling. "You're younger than I expected. Thought you'd be more timid."

Hao Hao gave her a smile, one corner of his mouth rising slightly. "I'm a bit different from other boys."

Julie raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh?"

They stepped inside.

Warm yellow lights flickered against the wooden walls. The scent of baked bread and simmering sauces lingered faintly in the air. Jazz hummed softly through a ceiling speaker. Wooden chairs, soft-cushioned booths, polished counters—the place had taste. Simple but tasteful. Cozy but refined.

She guided him around the space slowly, her tone patient, soft. Like she didn't want to scare him off.

"This is the kitchen. Our chef is from City D—fiery temper but a good heart. That corner booth? Always reserved for a regular couple. Don't ever give it away, even if a government official comes in. The bar counter's mostly for women who like to drink wine and vent about their boyfriends. Don't worry, just smile and nod."

Hao Hao listened, not interrupting. Calm. Steady. Quiet, but not awkwardly so.

Julie glanced at him again, her steps slowing. "You're really… composed."

"Mn." Hao Hao nodded. "I've had a bit of life experience."

Julie chuckled at that, crossing her arms. "Life experience? Aren't you still in high school?"

He didn't answer directly. Just smiled.

She paused, staring at him for a second longer than necessary.

There it was.

That strange aura.

Not quite charm. Not quite maturity. Something else. A quiet gravity. As if this boy, in his brown hoodie and nerdy glasses, had walked through fire and learned to smile afterward.

Julie cleared her throat. "Well. Anyway, you're probably wondering about the work."

"A bit," Hao Hao said, still polite.

"We've been trying to hire a young male server for months now. But most of them don't want to work this far from the city center. They all want to work where they'll be seen, where the influencers are. And I get it. This place is more lowkey. But we have loyal customers, good pay, no shady business. You won't be treated like an ornament here."

Hao Hao nodded again, sincere this time. "That's good. I just want to work. Do things properly."

Julie blinked once.

Then she smiled. Genuinely.

"You really aren't like other boys."

She handed him a menu and a small notepad. "How about it? We're opening soon. Want to try a short test shift?"

Hao Hao held the notepad like it was a sword.

"Let's do it."

Julie laughed. "Confident too. Alright then, Hao Hao. Welcome to The Bistro by the Sea."

+

Evening fell quickly in City A.

The soft blush of sunset faded into a curtain of indigo, and with it came the crowd. Suits and skirts. Mothers dragging spoiled sons by the collar. Laughing couples clinking glasses. Young women in high heels, dragging tired feet from work but still demanding their steak be medium-rare "with passion, not mediocrity."

At first, Hao Hao had stood like a statue—tense, silent, stiff in his brown hoodie and shorts. He had bowed too low, stammered too much. But something odd happened.

People smiled at him.

They thanked him.

Even the grumpy office lady in glasses, who sent her soup back twice, ended up cracking a grin when he returned with a joke and a second spoon.

"You're right, miss," he'd said, face solemn, "this spoon was clearly cursed by a kitchen ghost. We've exorcised it."

The woman actually laughed.

And Julie watched it all from behind the bar, elbows on the counter, one hand supporting her chin.

By the time the last customer left and the lights dimmed into their evening warmth, Hao Hao was wiping down a table, his hair damp with sweat, sleeves rolled, chest rising and falling in quiet exhaustion.

He didn't notice her standing there until she spoke.

"You were amazing tonight."

Hao Hao looked up, blinking. "Huh?"

Julie stepped out from behind the bar, arms crossed, lips curved faintly. "I'm not exaggerating. You were nervous at first, but then it was like watching a duck find water. Your aura, your timing, the way you smiled and spoke—it's no wonder customers remembered your name. You've got presence."

He scratched the back of his head. "I… just tried my best."

Julie hummed softly and reached into her pocket, pulling out a small white envelope. "6500 yuan per month. Bonuses depending on performance. Part-time, flexible hours."

"…Eh?"

Hao Hao stared at the envelope like it was a magic talisman.

She smirked. "Welcome to hospitality. Or maybe I'm just in a good mood today."

He couldn't help but laugh. "Either way, I'll take it."

She handed him a business card. "Add me on W*chat. I'll send over the details and your schedule tomorrow."

The night had settled fully by then, and the coastal breeze was colder than it had been hours ago. Hao Hao changed out of his apron and stepped outside. He adjusted his glasses, preparing to walk back along the beach road home.

That was when the first drop fell.

Then another.

And another.

Within seconds, the sky cracked open in a sudden summer drizzle, soft but insistent. The kind that soaked you just enough to ruin your evening. He patted his hoodie, looking for something he didn't have.

"…Shit. I didn't bring an umbrella."

Behind him, the door to the bistro opened again.

A familiar voice called out.

"You really were planning to walk home in that?"

Hao Hao turned around, surprised.

Julie stood in the doorway with a light jacket draped over her arm, umbrella in one hand, a bemused look on her face.

She tilted her head. "Want a ride?"

He hesitated for a moment.

Then he smiled, the corners of his lips lifting gently.

"…Sure. If it's not too much trouble."

Julie shrugged, stepping out beside him and raising the umbrella over their heads. "Let's go, then."