He had miswritten his name AGAIN.
Last time he checked, Han Chen wasn't a name particularly hard to spell. So he couldn't begin to fathom how this cocky barista—Luo Fusheng or whatever his stupid name was— always managed such pathetic achievement.
The perfectionist that Han Chen was couldn't just let it fly under the radar once more; he already did the last four times. The fifth time was the last straw. Every time, it had kept bugging him, like a little mischievous imp laughing at him in the back of his head. And every time he came back to that coffee shop—it wasn't even that nice of a place, just a 15 square meters decorated box squeezed between two professional-looking buildings, that imp materialized as Luo fcking Fusheng.
What he understood even less was why on earth Bai Jinxi insisted on dragging him along with their colleagues after work, justifying herself only with "they got your type there". First of all, no, they didn't because, for some puzzling reason, the shop didn't offer Black Americano—he liked his pitch black and bitter. Second of all, their coffee wasn't even that tasty.
He would roll his eyes whenever he saw Bai Jinxi complimenting the bubbly barista for his "surprisingly good" homemade coffee and, with a smile as big as this idiot's, telling him to keep running his business that brought everyone joy. Maybe Han Chen puked in his mouth a little too... She sounded like a mother trying to get this random stranger to marry her imaginary child. At this point, Han Chen started believing she'd cry for a whole day and night if the shop ever closed. Heck, he didn't remember her being into coffee this much before.
"Will that be all, sir?"
Today, Han Chen came alone. Bold move. Bai Jinxi wasn't there to move him away from the counter while he was busy mentally killing the barista in three different ways that wouldn't involve breaking the law.
But he wanted to teach this buffoon a lesson. So here he was, giving Mister I-think-I'm-funny a death stare while his miserably butchered name sat on the brown cardboard cup holder.
"You misspelled my name, sir," the officer articulated slowly, unclenching his jaw.
He was making an effort not to be loose-tongued. This deserved a pat on the back.
"Oh," Luo Fushit let out as if it was his first time making this mistake. "I'll fix it right away!" He grabbed the cup that Han Chen hadn't dared touch and popped an ink pen open with the cap between his teeth. "Mind repeating your name?"
Han Chen didn't know how he stayed poised as he reiterated his name. Maybe thanks to the stupid sliver of hope of finally reading his name correctly written. Maybe also thanks to the contemplation of not having to jeopardize his carrier over a barista purposefully irritating him.
The gravity of the situation didn't seem to affect this happy-go-lucky fool as if a barrier of optimism protected him from the dark clouds Han Chen literally exuded. Neither did the barista appear intimidated by the clear-as-day status of police officer Han Chen sported with his uniform. Did this fool ever apologize for his doings?
Fools don't say sorry because they don't believe they are in the wrong..., the grumpy man thought. Han Chen tsked, his own brooding aggravating his mood.
At that moment, the barista handed him back his cup of coffee with a new cup holder. The officer's somewhat hopeful eyes fell on the name written in ink: Luo Chen.
Of course, it couldn't have been this easy to solve.
With extreme restraint, Han Chen armed himself with words more scorching than his coffee, "I hope you burn yourself to death with your disgusting coffee."
His blatant threat earned him a kittenish giggle from Luo Fusheng. "I'll be careful, don't worry~"
A fcking giggle.
Could the heavens bestow on Han Chen even the slightest bit of patience not to commit a crime right then and there?
"Have a very bad day," the officer cursed the source of his spiked blood pressure as he turned away.
That's right; he just had to leave the cup of tasteless coffee on the counter there, leave the shop altogether. "I hope to see you next time~," he heard chirping behind him.
"Do a crime, then we'll see," Han Chen muttered between his teeth. "I'm never stepping in here again."
They got your type, she said. The only thing they got was the reason he'd have to resign from his job.