The onboarding lunch break was a sixty-minute sprint.
"Mei, move it! If we don't get to the park now, we'll be eating our food in the onboarding hall," Leo called out, already halfway to the door with a group of recruits.
"Go ahead, Leo. If I don't get a real espresso, I'm going to fall asleep during the Corporate Ethics session. Get me some steamed dumplins, I'll meet you at the fountain."
The line at the boutique coffee shop was longer than Mei expected.
Of course it was. Midday, the glass towers of the district were spilling people into the same three cafés within a five-minute radius. She checked the time on her watch, only a few minutes left before she had to meet the group at the Central Fountain. Enough time, if the baristas didn't move like a funeral procession.
She shifted her weight, phone in hand, skimming the onboarding schedule for the third time. Her charcoal pinstripe skirt was perfectly pressed, but the humidity was starting to test her patience. The schedule was still a blur of too many names, too many departments, and too many expectations packed into one week.
"Serious business?"
The voice came from behind her—low, unhurried, and far too close.
Mei didn't turn immediately. She scrolled once more, moving with the practiced indifference of someone used to being watched, then glanced back.
He was leaning slightly to the side, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone loosely. Tall. Annoyingly so. His slate-gray shirt had the sleeves rolled up just enough to look expensive but lived-in. He had the kind of face people looked at twice without meaning to—and he clearly knew it.
She looked once, then faced forward again.
"Extremely," she said. "Life or death, actually."
A quiet huff of amusement vibrated behind her.
"Over coffee?"
"Decisions have been made over less."
The line shuffled forward. She stepped with it, her heels clicking a sharp, rhythmic beat on the polished floor.
"Fair," he said. "What are you getting?"
"Something strong enough to justify standing in this line."
"So… everything here is disqualified."
She let out a small laugh before she could stop it. That earned him a second glance, sharper this time.
"You're still here," she said, her eyes tracing the arrogant line of his jaw. "So it can't be that bad."
"I'm not here for the coffee."
Mei raised a brow slightly, her "Idol" mask sliding into a playful, challenging smirk. "That line usually ends badly for people."
"It wasn't a line."
"Mm." She turned back ahead. "That's what they all say."
Another pause followed. It wasn't awkward—just… easy. Like two predators acknowledging they were in the same cage.
"First time I've seen you around," he said.
"That sounds like an accusation."
"Observation."
"You make those about everyone?"
"Only when I'm bored."
"And you're bored now."
"A little less than I was five minutes ago."
She glanced at him again, properly this time. Up close, he looked even more composed than she'd thought, like nothing ever really rushed him. It was a bit annoying, considering she was currently on a countdown.
"Glad I could be of service," she said dryly.
"I didn't say that."
"You implied it."
"I implied I wasn't bored."
"Same thing."
He smiled, small, brief, like he wasn't in the habit of doing it for long.
The line moved again. They were at the counter now.
"What about you?" she said, her voice dropping into a flirtatious hum. "You spend your time talking to strangers in queues?"
"Only the ones who look like they're about to file a complaint against the coffee machine."
"I might."
"I believe you."
She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head.
The barista called out, "Next!"
Mei stepped forward, her confidence radiating off her. "Double expresso, no sugar."
"Name?"
"Mei."
She tapped her card and stepped aside. He moved up right after her, not missing a beat. Meii didn't react, she just shifted to the side, pulling out her phone to check the distance to the fountain.
"Mei," he said, testing the name lightly, like it was a word he hadn't decided on yet.
She glanced up. "Yes?"
Another small pause stretched between them. It wasn't heavy. It was just there, thick with the kind of tension that made the humid air outside feel cool by comparison.
Her phone buzzed. She glanced down, a text from Leo about the dumplings, and swore softly under her breath.
"Shit."
"Life or death?" he asked, his voice laced with that same effortless amusement.
"Apparently."
She looked back up at him, already backing toward the door, her short skirt swishing with every step.
"This was—" she gestured vaguely between them, "—unexpectedly tolerable."
"Tolerable," he repeated, the word sounding like a challenge on his tongue.
"Don't get used to it." She continued toward the exit. "Enjoy your coffee."
"You too."
She gave a short, sharp nod, then turned and pushed out into the afternoon crowd, already moving fast, already gone.
Yan stood there for a moment longer than necessary.