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It’s a cold, snowy night when Ye Xiu finds himself outside of Happy Bakery. He peers inside. The lights are still on, but the place is practically empty—not surprising given how late it is. Ye Xiu eyes the leftover buns on the counter. Buns at Happy Bakery are amazing. He’d never gone there personally, but the morning after every performance, Mucheng would come knocking at his door with a large paper bag in her arms.
(“Good, right?” Mucheng would beam. “There’s more where that came from. You keep on forgetting to eat breakfast—what would you do without me?)
Ye Xiu’s stomach growls. He pats his pockets. Yeah, he probably has enough money on him, even if only for one of the staler buns. As he opens the door, he’s hit by a gentle wave of warmth. No smell of baking, and there’s nothing in the cases off to the side, but that’s to be expected. At the jingling of the door, a woman peeks in from the back, before quickly tying an apron around her waist at the sight of Ye Xiu.
“Good evening,” she greets, heading up to the front. Her name tag reads Chen Guo. “There’s only these two buns here, sorry.”
“Oh. That’s fine.” Ye Xiu’s stomach rumbles again, and he’s glad he’s shameless enough not to blush. He fishes out a couple of crumpled banknotes, flattening them out onto the counter. Wrinkled, but money is money. “I’ll still take them.”
If Chen Guo is trying to hide her smile, she doesn’t do it well. “I can toast them too, if you’d like.”
Ye Xiu glances outside. The snow hasn’t stopped.
“That’d be great.”
Two hours later, and Ye Xiu’s still outside of the bakery. It had closed a while ago, the yellowish glow turning dim. The warmth of the buns had left his hands long ago, and the snow wasn’t stopping. A smarter person would’ve left a while ago, lest moisture seep into their shoes and cause bigger problems. But while Ye Xiu could say he is clever, smart is a bit of an overstatement. All he can do is stand outside, and watch the snow—falling, falling, fallen.
If his old friend could see him now, what would he say?
Ye Xiu puts the thought out of his mind. He doesn’t let himself dwell on it any longer.
The lights of the bakery turn on again. Slowly, Ye Xiu turns towards its entrance, where the woman peers out again, looking at him.
“Do you need some help?”
He nods, wordlessly. Chen Guo opens the door a little wider.
(It’s an act of such genuine kindness. A little part of him wants to cry. But Ye Xiu can’t, so he doesn’t.)
He awakens to the wonderful smell of fresh bread. Now that was what he had missed last night. Ye Xiu follows the scent down to the kitchen, where he finds Chen Guo replacing trays of dough balls into ovens.
“Hey… boss.” He waves somewhat awkwardly from where he’s standing in the doorway. Ye Xiu glances at the clock. Five in the morning. “It’s a bit early, isn’t it?”
“A bit late, actually.” She doesn’t stop to look at him. “Have a nice sleep? Great. Want to help me out?”
“Is that legal?”
“It’ll be fine, just wash some dishes for me. Sink is on the left.”
And it certainly is. Piled with trays and sheets, Ye Xiu finds it to be a marvel that the entire thing hasn’t collapsed into a giant mess. “I’m flattered that you trust me with such a task.”
“Yeah, yeah. Consider it as payment for letting you stay over.”
Fair enough. Ye Xiu starts scrubbing away at the mess, but the pile doesn’t seem to stop. It feels like hours (even though the clock says it’s been thirty minutes) before Chen Guo speaks to him again.
“Do you need a place to stay?”
He contemplates the question in his mind. Ye Xiu’s not exactly homeless , but he’d have to call in a few favors that he’d much rather prefer to keep. Staying with Mucheng is an option, but he’d been enough of a burden on her. He settles on answering with a simple ”yeah.”
For a second he thinks Chen Guo must not have heard him, but she comes over to dump a few more trays in the sink. “You can stay here, if you need.”
“Really?”
“Really. I could use another worker, and that room—the one you slept in— should be empty for a while.” She smiles at him, and Ye Xiu manages to muster one back. “It was okay?”
“It was great.” The room was nice, clean and minimalistic. There was a piano keyboard in the corner, unfortunately ironic, but there really was no issue. “And I’ll take you up on offer. You’re very kind.”
Chen Guo smacks him lightly on the back. “Of course! Welcome to the family.”
Family . The word isn’t unfamiliar, but it sits in his mouth rather uncomfortably—not unlike remembering that your tongue exists.
“Thanks.” Ye Xiu resumes scrubbing the dishes. “So, what are you baking?”
“Excellent Era buns! Look, they’ve got maple leaves on them!” Chen Guo says it with such joy, such unrestrained glee, that Ye Xiu does all he can to get rid of the pit suddenly opening up in his stomach.
“...Excellent Era, the record company? That’s certainly brand dedication.”
“They’re our city’s pride and joy, of course I have dedication.” Ye Xiu doesn’t think that Chen Guo’s smile could get any brighter, but he’s just getting proven wrong continuously. “Who hasn’t heard of all of the artists under their classical branch?”
(He thinks of hours sitting at that bench, the rows of keys never seeming to end. He worked so hard, but in the end, everyone gets cast away.)
Ye Xiu wishes he hasn’t.
Working in a bakery isn’t the worst thing Ye Xiu had ever done to get by. It’s actually quite pleasant. There’s always a nice smell in the air, and while the work can get tedious, it’s nothing he can’t handle. Washing the dishes is easy, and he only has to work the front during off hours. Some sort of food is always lying around, whether it be an extra bun or a bowl gently wrapped in cling film.
When he’s not working, he browses the internet. Ye Xiu does it mindlessly, but there’s always one or two pieces of news that end up catching his eye.
Lost Dog Found After Two Years.
Wow! You Won’t Believe! Glory Opens Up Its Tenth Server.
Piano Prodigy Fizzles Out.
Studies Show That Gaming Causes Permanent Brain Damage.
And ever so occasionally, Ye Xiu uses the keyboard. He doesn’t play anything too fancy, only a few simple tunes, but it’s enough to satisfy the cravings he has. It almost makes him want to laugh. From the illuminated stage, to a dusty corner.
Today is another such day. He lays the keyboard on his lap, gently pressing the keys. The sound isn’t the greatest, attributed to its old age, but Ye Xiu doesn’t see it as a detriment. Instead, he closes his eyes and thinks of better, simpler times.
(“You’re brilliant! My violin, and your piano skills—together, we’ll make it to the top of the industry.”)
“Ye Xiu?”
He’s interrupted out of his reverie by a gentle tapping at his door. Ye Xiu opens it up to see Chen Guo glued to her phone, holding a notepad and pen in her other hand. “Can you man the front at the moment? It’s not that busy now, sorry.”
“Oh. I’m on it, boss.”
“Thanks, I owe you.” And with that, Chen Guo disappears into her room, laughing with whoever else was on the phone.
Ye Xiu wonders if he should lament the lack of relationship between him and his boss. It’s not surprising how distant they are, given the rather… unfortunate circumstances of their meeting, but it would be nice to imagine a more casual relationship.
He heads over to the front, looking over at the lack of customers. What Ye Xiu can do is check the rows of bread and make sure everything is stocked up. He could also grab some wipes and sanitize the place, or make sure there’s enough money in the cash register. But doing all of that would make him look like he knows what he’s doing—or even worse—make him look capable , so he does none of that.
Instead, he idles around, concentrating on spinning a pen around his fingers. At least he’s able to muster up a greeting to whoever came into the bakery, but spinning pens were surprisingly hypnotic.
Eventually, the customer comes up to the front with their tray piled with different kinds of breads and buns. Ye Xiu almost feels sorry for whoever gets the unfortunate bun on the bottom. But hey, it’s not really his business, so all he does is grab a large paper bag and try to calculate the cost in his head.
“That’ll come to—”
“Ye Xiu?” Now that is an all too familiar voice, and he takes an actual glance up at the customer. With her face obscured with a face mask and sunglasses, any passerby wouldn’t spare a second glance. But this is a disguise Ye Xiu had seen for years, and nothing could ever stop him from recognizing that voice.
“Mucheng,” he finally breathes out. “It’s been a while.”
With the sunglasses on, Ye Xiu can’t discern much of what Mucheng is thinking. Does she hate him? Is she glad to see him? Disappearing is a bit of a cause for concern, and he can’t hold it against her if she decides to despise his very existence.
“Yeah. It has.”
The silence is killing him. He’s left with his last resort.
(So much of his life was dedicated to sound, the absence of it eats away at his soul.)
“I can’t believe you never gave me an Excellent Era bun.”