Chapter Text
The morning sky was just turning grey as Maomao rubbed at her heavy eyes and tried to work the knots out of her hair in front of the bathroom mirror. In the process, her elbow knocked a bottle of Pairin’s nail polish off of the overcrowded counter, and she winced as it hit the ground with a sharp thud. It rolled tiredly under the sink but didn’t break, and her shoulders sagged with relief. She carefully returned the bottle to the haphazard collection, pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, and shrugged into her green bomber jacket, shutting the front door quietly behind her.
Her walk to the Palace—the university coffee shop—was just long enough to feel like hell this early in the morning. Getting to work on time was the worst part. Once she was actually there, surrounded by foaming milks, sweet syrup smells, and steaming coffee, she lost all sense of fatigue. But by god did she hate the lead up.
She glanced at her phone clock and grumbled, quickening her pace.
When she pushed through the door, she was greeted by a bright “Good morning, Maomao!” -- Xiaolan was unfailingly cheery no matter the hour of the day. Maomao grunted in reply, turned on the espresso machine, and went to the back to grab an apron.
It was a few weeks into the new school year, and the staff and customers had mostly settled into their routines. Xiaolan, an undergraduate, worked Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Maomao, a graduate student, worked Wednesday through Friday, since she taught classes earlier in the week. Today was a Wednesday, and it would just be Maomao and Xiaolan for a few hours until Lihaku showed up.
The door jingled as their first customer walked in. Xiaolan greeted them with a big smile, and Maomao got to work on their latte.
Maomao liked working with Xiaolan. Once Maomao woke up enough, they would get into a seamless rhythm of Xiaolan taking orders and Maomao whipping up drinks. They got great tips, too.
An hour or so into the shift, the late-summer sunlight was streaming through the big windows, and Maomao was in the zone. Cappuccino. Americano. Matcha latte. Drip. Black tea. London fog. Frappuccino. Latte. Latte. Latte. Latte.
She knew she made the silkiest foam, the creamiest espresso, the smoothest pourover. Her customers knew it, too.
“Maomao, you did it again,” Lihua sighed happily, sipping at her lavender latte. She was a human biology professor in Maomao’s department; Maomao had been a teaching assistant for her class last year. Now Lihua liked to occasionally stop by to chat and lightly threaten to steal Maomao away from her thesis advisor, Gyokuyou. She was leaning against the pickup counter, glossy dark hair falling smoothly over her shoulders and teasing at her cleavage.
“All in a day’s work,” Maomao replied smoothly, though her lips were twitching into a pleased curve as she pulled yet another perfect espresso shot.
“Maomao! Who’s this?” Lihaku had just arrived and was trying not to check Lihua out too obviously. Maomao rolled her eyes.
“Lihaku, this is Professor Lihua. Professor, this is my coworker, Lihaku. Lihaku, take over for me for a few?”
Lihaku pouted but did as he was asked, and Lihua disappeared. Maomao took a few minutes before the next rush to sip some water, fix her hair into something a little less messy, and debate what kind of seasonal drink she wanted to put on the menu next.
The rest of the shift passed easily, and Maomao soon found herself folding her apron and walking out into the midday sun with Xiaolan, who gave her a quick hug goodbye and trotted off to class. Maomao had writing to do, so she grabbed a steam bun for lunch and ate it on her way to the library.
She was completing a PhD in toxicology, and she had just done a summer of field and laboratory research. Now, she had to analyze all of the data and write it up. She slid into a seat and pulled out her laptop with a sigh. Compared to the thrill of the laboratory work, this was much less exciting. The library air was still and quiet, and the black and white of her text document seemed to glower at her. She pouted at it, typed a few words of nonsense, and let herself ooze into a slouch. When her neck started to hurt, she sighed again and decisively closed her laptop, opting to browse the library shelves instead.
She knew the toxicology section by memory at this point, now that she was a few years into her program. She slid her fingers along the familiar spines, until she felt the sudden roughness of an old binding. Huh? Most of the books were on the newer side, textbooks or otherwise. A tingle of intrigue ran down her own spine, and her eyes narrowed excitedly. The nondescript brown book sat snugly between two larger textbooks, and she gently pulled it out, gasping at the cover. It was leather bound, adorned with old bits of gold leaf pressed into the faded French title.
No way. She started practically bouncing up and down and opened the cover with shaking hands. This—this was an original?! An original book on toxicology by Mathieu Orfila?? She squealed as she turned to a page of exquisite drawings of venomous insects.
“Ahem.”
This should belong in a museum, why is it here?
“Ahem.”
She looked up in irritation and was met with a purple gaze and an unfairly beautiful porcelain face.
“Huh?” She responded, intelligently.
“What’s so exciting about that book?” The person gestured at it. They were quite a bit taller than her, and their voice was smooth and warm despite the skepticism running through it.
She grinned wide and held it up. “This book is hundreds of years old, written by a founder of Western toxicology. It’s absolutely wild that it’s here in our library.” She felt like she’d won the lottery.
The stranger frowned down at it. “It looks like… it’s in French? Can you read it?”
She glanced away with a hint of a pout. “Well, no. But there are lots of illustrations, so I’ll be able to learn a lot just from those.”
“Hmm.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go look through this now.” Maomao gave the stranger a half-wave and returned to her seat, the book clutched carefully in her hands.
She spent the rest of the day with the book, flipping gently through its almost-translucent pages, and not until she was back home in her bed did she briefly wonder why that person was in the toxicology section, too.
Meh, whatever. She fell asleep quickly and dreamed of scorpions.