Studying at Central Academy of Drama, Class of 2015′s Musical Performance department, Zheng Ruibin is surely the top student amongst all the trainees. He is a perfect example of the “other people’s children”* ideal. In the thrilling elimination round to top 20, he tearfully bowed and expressed thanks, “To not disappoint you who have given me the chance to stand on this stage, I will carry your trust all the way to the end.”
Zheng Ruibin will feature in his first magazine article in the April issue of ‘In Shanghai’!
[t/n: “other people’s children” carries the implication of your parents comparing you to other kids and asking you why you can’t be more like them lmao]
He doesn’t love him, does he? Zen grits his teeth as he punches multiple buttons into the coffee machine,letting his gaze follows the soothing flow of the dark latte.
He doesn’t love that trust fund kid. God, he isn’t even into dicks, let alone that piece of utterly annoying, egotistical piece of-
“Zen, I would suggest focusing on the coffee, instead of whatever you have been thinking about.” His boss’s voice is firm, a little teasing, but Zen couldn’t quite help the yelp that slipped out of his mouth. Quickly, with skillful fingers, he turns the knobs and successfully prevents the cup of coffee - which he is preparing - from overflowing.
Zen hums while he squeezes ample amount of cream onto the rich, black liquid, and then proceeds to lavish the cream with strips of think, honey-like caramel. Sweet. Whoever ordered this must have a sweet tooth, the silver-haired man muses.
“Caramel latte!” Zen sings and slides the cup toward the counter, already used to being a barista; there is still a month of worth of break left, and he don’t see why couldn’t he make use of his free time meaningfully. He is always attracted to the warm aroma of coffee, not unlike bears to honey, and being a barista is like a dream comes true. Also, his beautiful face is like a customer-magnet, so he is pretty confident of not being sacked even if he proved to be bad at coffee making.
Ah, the life of being the God of Beauty is sure fulfilling.
Fulfilling, until the frigging trust fund kid finds his workplace and makes it a habit to visit him.
Deep in thought, he fails to notice the tall, otherworldly figure before him. “Back to earth, Zen.” Jumin’s voice is deliciously deep, and Zen feels the strangest urge to eat dark chocolate. Wait what?
Scowling, Zen snapped, with voice as sharp as whip, “why are you here again?!” He doesn’t, and couldn’t understand; what is the reason as to Jumin’s frequent visits? Does he, said trust fund kid, finds pleasure in making his life hell?
“Do I need a reason to enjoy coffee?” Jumin raises one of his delicate eyebrows, god, he is so beautifu-, and Zen rushes off, heart hammering against his ribs while cheeks burning with bright crimson.
What is this feeling?
He curses. It isn’t like that; he doesn’t like Jumin, at all!