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00
For centuries, he has been tossing and turning in the abyss, though there is neither time nor space as such, and he himself lacks even an inch of physical body. Yet the brain of the mortal he once was stubbornly thinks in familiar categories, even though his memory has long since blurred into a smudge.
All of this, perhaps, was meant to be his punishment. For what is the point of surpassing all living and non-living, mortal and immortal, even the laws of the Universe, if you cannot enjoy it? Yet meanings, too, have lost their weight and significance in the abyss, so even if he could feel resentment, indignation, or anger, he would still lack some impulse, some external force—and oh, what a force it would have to be, capable of penetrating a place where there is absolutely nothing, and why would anyone even need that, you must agree?
So all he feels is this "tossing and turning." As if it wasn’t enough for the victors to push him out of the warm reality, they also wanted to deprive him of the unconscious, unfeeling, comforting peace.
Though, what victors? Did he not surpass all living and non-living, mortal and immortal, even the laws of the Universe?
Don’t you also hate it when thoughts go in circles?..
01
Starting your first workday with an occupational injury? Cheeeck.
Showing the expected newbie enthusiasm, volunteering to move and install the brand-new espresso machine — that shiny two-group La Marzocco, weighing, mind you, a solid 120 kg — only to now sit among… uh… parts? shards? remains?… and blankly stare at your broken arm with the bone sticking out, while the poor girl, I mean the senior manager, faints at the sight of blood, and the customers screech, spilling their overpriced coconut lattes all over the place…
If someone invented a bingo card for "All Possible Failures at Your New Job," he’d have crossed off several squares in one go.
"I really wish I didn’t exist right now."
02
He had to remember what coffee was when a wave of its hot aroma swept through the abyss and vanished, leaving behind a fleeting vision of a porcelain face, wide golden eyes, and a small smile, as if the lips were unsure whether to smile or not.
He reached after that wave with his entire clumsy, bulky, non-existent body, but of course, he didn’t manage to catch even the tiniest coffee molecule. Nothing. Zero. Emptiness!
And yet, the image lingered, reflecting endlessly in the mirrored labyrinth of his awakening mind. The longer he stared at it (the eyelashes! the dimples! the arched brows!), the more he became aware of himself and the unwelcoming place around him.
Damn, there wasn’t even coffee here!
03
Hua Cheng, the owner of the Wave coffee empire, was unanimously considered a monster by all employees, suppliers, and partners. However, the customers of the chain worshipped his delightful secret blend and truly unique roasting method, which turned every cup of coffee into some kind of damn sacrament.
Suddenly kissing a fellow lonely patron after a shot of espresso, only to invite the barista to your wedding three months later?
After a painfully sweet raf, realizing you’re spending your life with the wrong person, dropping everything, moving to Africa as a volunteer medic, and from there sending a postcard with a crocodile and a thank-you note for the best cup of coffee in your life?
Coming every day for an iced latte, crunching on the aromatic ice, and writing a screenplay, line by line, then dropping the glass on your laptop, frantically recovering the draft all night, losing your temper, and writing a new one in two weeks that eventually won an Oscar?
Yes, it happened.
And there was also this: forgetting about vacations, weekends, sleep, and the words "I can’t/I’m unable/I’m about to die," constantly trembling because the owner’s passion is operational work, and he loves to suddenly harass — test — the coffee shops under his control. And no one will help you if even a single drop of milk is spilled somewhere, if you didn’t manage to deliver the banana syrup on time, or if customers refuse to give 6 stars out of 5, despising Google’s rating formats.
"Was"? Forget it, this is happening all the time! And right now, Hua Cheng is lazily picking out the next coffee shop for inspection on the map.
04
Xie Lian received medical attention, compensation, a notice of dismissal, changed cities, and even countries — which, given his streak of bad luck, came with a series of misadventures — and eventually found a job at a new coffee shop.
He had honestly planned to go one block further, where he was expected for an interview as a courier delivering non-breakable (which was important) and non-urgent packages, but he simply couldn’t resist the enchanting aroma. It was as if someone had dangled a magnetic pointer fish right in front of his nose and was whispering hoarsely into his left ear: "You need to go there."
In a world where people drank heavy, bitter-chocolate coffee, this coffee shop brewed something entirely different, with a hint of a bright fox tail lingering in the background. Even the latte carried a note of shameless citrus, the ever-present tang pleasantly refreshing, making you want to gulp down your round-bellied glass in one go, feeling each sip as pure bliss, and immediately order a second round.
Xie Lian’s chest ached with the desire to learn how to brew such coffee! To inhale it freely — as part of his job! — and to hand it over to those in need with his own hands.
So, without hesitation, he turned toward the "pointer fish" and, in no time at all, got the job, though he was slightly surprised by it. Perhaps he should have wondered why the manager of The Wave 1347 was so thrilled to have a new pair of hands.
05
The black limousine of the Monster smoothly exited the underground garage, and the employees on the 37 floors of Hua Tower allowed themselves a brief sigh of relief. Only the managers of the coffee shops on the 38th floor watched the car’s movement with a shudder. They didn’t know which location the owner would inspect today and were rightfully worried about their jobs.
Worried? They were trembling!
The Monster fired people with a black mark. After the first mistake, you were given one more chance, but no one was advised to relax if they wanted to find work in the coffee industry for the next three or four centuries.
It would be nice to add, in contrast, that the best managers under Hua Cheng were sought after by all companies and attempts were made to poach them. But competitors quickly learned that an endless streak of bad luck was the least of what could happen to them after such a slippery move.
Inside the black-and-red belly of the car, Hua Cheng massaged the bridge of his nose, tired of the driver’s frightened thoughts and his prayers to various gods (as if that had any effect, pfeh!) to avoid any potholes on the road, as the Monster demanded a perfectly smooth ride.
The limousine with tinted windows and drawn curtains resembled the abyss from which he had emerged, tearing his tentacles and memories out of oblivion.
He had emerged, concentrated, compressed, embodied, taken a heavy and sweet first breath in a mortal body, fallen to his knees, waiting out the flash of disorientation from the flood of sensations, risen to his feet, and set out to build an empire — something he was good at from his first life — and to try not to destroy everything around him at the slightest sign of disobedience or incompetence, which proved incomparably more difficult.
You might say that a network of three thousand coffee shops is too large a net to catch a random vision based on a memory of a scent, but what do you know about strict probability management?
If these establishments do their job as they should, everyone who can walk will come to try the coffee.
Hua Cheng took out his phone and dictated a note to his assistant to check the accessibility of the coffee shops for people with limited mobility and to organize a charity project — mini coffee shops at hospitals.
The car began to slow down, and Hua Cheng’s thoughts returned to coffee shop №1347, which had received only 4 stars on Google Maps — twice! Twice! For a moment, he considered leveling the place to the ground and opening a new one, without a bad history, without blemishes. But then he decided to see it with his human and other eyes.
06
Spill scalding espresso on the owner of your and 2,999 other coffee shops?
No! He didn’t do that. He twisted like an acrobat in a circus and took the volcanic liquid on his long-suffering arm. Not a single drop landed on Hua Cheng’s suit, which probably cost two or three of Xie Lian’s lifetimes.
Apologizing profusely and mentally saying goodbye to this, now his most beloved job, he was surprised to hear a concerned voice.
— Gege, are you hurt? Is your arm okay?
And when he assured that everything was fine, nothing hurt, never had hurt, and never would hurt, and was slathered with burn cream purely for Mr. Hua Cheng’s peace of mind, he received a request to brew a new cup, spoken in such a manner that it seemed as if a human throat had been replaced with a cat’s, complete with an unswitchable purring feature.
Xie Lian’s fingers trembled slightly as he filled the portafilter with a fresh dose of coffee. As in previous times, the citrus aroma subtly and inexplicably shifted to blue cheese with hot pepper. He still hoped to figure out the reasons for this, but he didn’t have time… and now disaster awaited him… look, the manager had already barricaded herself in the storage room…
Hua Cheng accepted the thermonuclear steaming cup with a smile and downed it, seemingly, between two blinks of Xie Lian’s eyelashes.
— Magnificent, gege! Could you make this for me, say, always?
Oh, he could.
07
The Wave 1347 disappeared from the maps. Now, only a very strange, spicy, and sometimes cheesy or cabbage-like coffee was brewed there for those brave souls who managed to make it to the order counter without being frightened by the broken mirror ("Gege, no need to worry, it will be replaced within half an hour"), the swirling darkness in the corners, and... what is that, a tentacle?.. especially if Hua Cheng was too unfocused in the morning.
You might ask, what kind of coffee is worth such adventures? Thanks to the trailblazer Wei Wuxian, then a student and now a happy doctoral candidate, who discovered that even a small shot from The Wave 1347 grants luck for the entire day. And if you sincerely and loudly compliment the barista — for a whole week.