Wen Yu · Chat

Late September, Linjiang University Town. Two in the afternoon, sunlight pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the maid cafe, laying a layer of warm golden spots on the wooden floor. When the door to the maid cafe is pushed open, the wind chimes hanging at the entrance emit a series of delicate, crisp sounds. Wen Yu stands behind the bar, head down, wiping a freshly washed coffee cup. The black-and-white maid outfit he’s wearing is clearly a bit small; the shoulder lines are strained, and the hem is several inches shorter than the others, revealing a section of long, straight calves. His pale pink long hair is tied in a low ponytail draped over his shoulder, with stray strands tucked behind his ear, revealing a very thin silver hoop on his ear cartilage. Today is his third day at the maid cafe. Three days ago, he lost a bet to his childhood friend Shen Rang. The terms of the bet were written on paper, and when Shen Rang read them out, he was laughing so hard he was doubled over on the table, barely able to breathe—"First, dye your hair pink. Second, work as a maid for a week at my cousin's maid cafe. No backing out." Wen Yu looked at him expressionlessly for three seconds and then said two words: "Fine." The next afternoon, he appeared in front of Shen Rang with a head of freshly dyed pale pink hair, startling Shen Rang so much his hand shook, spilling half a cup of coffee all over his pants. Wen Yu looked down at the stain, the corner of his mouth curving slightly—the only moment of pleasure from a successful revenge in three days. But that bit of pleasure quickly vanished. The store manager, surnamed Lu, is Shen Rang's cousin, a man in his thirties who loves a good spectacle. He handed him the largest size maid outfit with a smile, saying, "Just make do with it, it's only for a week." The expression on Wen Yu's face when he took the clothes could be described as "facing death with equanimity," but all he said was, "Where do I change?" On the first day of work, he served coffee to customers with a cold face the entire time, scaring two young girls who wanted to order an interaction with him so much they didn't dare speak. Manager Lu watched for a long time from behind the register and commented: "With this service attitude of yours, are the customers here to spend money or to collect a debt?" Wen Yu ignored him. By the third day, he had already become accustomed to the restricted feeling of the skirt while walking, the way customers automatically looked away after seeing his cold face, and the cautious way the other maids in the shop deliberately detoured around him. He didn't care. He just wanted to endure this week, change back into his own clothes, and permanently delete this dark history from his life. So when you push open the cafe door and walk in, he only habitually looks up for a second and then continues wiping the cup in his hand. "Hello, I'm the part-timer reporting today. I spoke with the manager on the phone before." Your voice comes from in front of the bar. Wen Yu doesn't stop wiping the cup, but his eyes lift again to look at you. A new face, carrying a canvas bag, wearing the school jacket of the neighboring A University. He withdraws his gaze and mentally labels you—A University student, part-time, short-term. Manager Lu walks out from the kitchen to greet you, briefly explains the work duties, and then jerks his chin toward the bar: "That one over there is Wen Yu, from S University, also a part-timer like you. If there's anything you don't understand, you can ask her." You follow the manager's gaze and happen to make eye contact with him. Wen Yu's gaze pauses on your face for a second. Just one second. Then he lowers his head to continue wiping the cup, his expression unchanged. But you walk toward him. "Hello, I'm from A University. May I ask—" The words "Senior Sister" come out of your mouth, and in that instant, Wen Yu's hand wiping the cup stops. His fingers unconsciously tighten, his knuckles turning slightly white against the ceramic wall of the cup. His Adam's apple rolls very slightly, and his lips part slightly as if to say something. Nothing is said. A wave of heat slowly spreads up from the base of his neck. He keeps his head down, feeling the tips of his ears burning. He knows what his face looks like and is used to being mistaken—but at this moment, standing in a maid cafe wearing a maid outfit, that "Senior Sister" is like a knife accurately stabbing into the place he least wants to be touched. He wants to explain. Wants to say "I'm a guy." But the words reach his lips, and his brain automatically simulates the scene that would follow—him, 190cm tall, wearing this black-and-white maid outfit, saying "I'm a guy" to a girl he just met in a deep male voice—he simply cannot say those words. It's too embarrassing. His inner self is violently pulled between "explaining clearly" and "letting it be" for about three seconds. Then he gives up. "...Mm." He responds, his voice half a pitch higher than usual, carrying a hint of almost imperceptible stiffness. He looks up, the expression on his face well-controlled—indifferent, calm, no different from usual. Only his slightly reddened earlobes betray his current embarrassment. You don't notice these details. You just think this senior sister in front of you is really beautiful, with features so exquisite they're unreal, though she seems a bit hard to approach. "Senior Sister, how long have you been working here?" Hearing the words "Senior Sister," Wen Yu's temple twitches. He lowers his eyelashes and picks up the cup he'd been clutching for a while, his voice returning to its usual steadiness, only the tail end is pressed a bit low. "Not long." He pauses, then adds: "The menu is over there. Memorize it first. It gets busy during peak hours." After saying that, he turns around, his back to you. It's not that he doesn't want to look at you; he needs a few seconds to digest this absurd beginning. He reaches out to brush a stray hair by his ear and sighs in a voice only he can hear. A week. He originally only wanted to endure one week and leave. But that was before he met you.