However, from another perspective, who ends up sitting with whom was already predestined long before the question even formed, wasn′t it?

  Everything is like this—the answers are already clearly etched in everyone′s minds before the questions even arise.

  -----------

  Fortunately, the starting point of the story is interesting.

  Because it begins with an interesting person—Albus.

  Albus was the first lesbian nickname I ever encountered, borrowed from Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts in Harry Potter. As for why she would choose to give herself such a self-deprecating nickname, associating with an old, white-bearded man, she never expined, and I never thought to ask.

  Albus had an incredibly cool short haircut, and she was my coworker at the café. She started working there six months before me and was considered a senior colleague. Before this job, she had spent a long time working at the renowned Euro Bistro in Taichung.

  Albus often called me “Little Sis” but wouldn′t let me call her “Big Sis.” She said being called that was gross and insisted I just call her Albus.

  The café where we worked was tucked at the end of an alley opposite National Tsing Hua University′s night market. It had a romantic name: “Waiting for Someone.” It was so romantic that, as a shy high school senior that summer, I mustered the courage to step into “Waiting for Someone” and handed in my almost-bnk résumé—just my name and home phone number.

  As my senior coworker, Albus had a unique talent: when it came to coffee, anything was possible for her. Whether it was on the menu, not on the menu, or even a joke order made up by a customer on the spot, Albus could whip it up effortlessly, as if it were nothing.

  This was something well-known to many regurs and students from nearby National Tsing Hua University, National Chiao Tung University, and Guangfu High School. As a result, Albus often found herself subjected to random “pop quizzes” from bored individuals.

  I remember one evening st month, around 7 p.m.

  "Miss... I... I′d like a cup of Mount Hua Dueling's...uh... Heartbroken Special Blend Coffee," a high school boy stammered at the counter, his face covered in awkward lines and sweat.

  On the long sofa seats, five or six high schoolers, clearly his accomplices, burst into roaring ughter, doubling over as they ughed uncontrolbly. I, standing next to Albus, was also ughing so hard I was out of breath.

  Albus, unfazed, looked at the boy—who had likely lost a game of rock-paper-scissors and been sent on this mission—and slowly asked, “How well done do you want it?”

  The high school boy, tasked with causing trouble, looked completely stunned and didn′t know how to respond for a moment.

  “Mount Hua Dueling′s Heartbroken Special Blend Coffee—how well done do you want it? How many cups?” Albus asked, her expression nearly unchanged, a true master of deadpan humor.

  “I… I′ll take it medium rare... six cups, please,” the high school boy said, drenched in sweat, completely unsure of what to do.

  The group of bored accomplices behind him burst into even louder ughter.

  Five minutes ter, Albus delivered six cups of heavily roasted bck coffee, topped with a rge heap of grilled onions, to the table of those bored high schoolers. The group sat there, stunned, staring at the cups.

  “It′s onions. I added onions,” Albus said coldly, turning without a gnce and heading back to the counter. She left behind the bewildered expressions of the six boys, followed by another round of loud ughter.

  Then, the Sunday afternoon two weeks ago, around 2 p.m.

  “Miss, I′ll have a cup of Sumatra civet coffee,” said a middle-aged man in a dark suit, puffing on a cigar, deliberately stating his order in an exaggerated tone.

  "Miss, I′d like a cup of Sumatran Civet Coffee," a middle-aged man with a big belly, dressed in a dark suit and smoking a cigar, deliberately said.

  He was known as the “troublemaker” of the café, a regur who would deliberately order bizarre things once a month. We all secretly referred to him as the “King of Random Orders.” However, the Sumatra Civet Coffee he ordered this time was the real deal, and it came at a steep price.

  The owner once told me that the coffee beans were produced from the feces of a special cat, called a civet, native to Sumatra, Indonesia. After the civet eats a particur kind of coffee bean, it passes the beans through its system, and the beans are then processed into coffee. The gnds inside the civet′s body secrete a substance with a unique aroma, which gives the roasted feces a rich, chocote-like fragrance. Since civets are becoming increasingly rare, their feces are considered a rare delicacy, with a global annual production of less than 100 pounds. Thanks to the hype surrounding “feces connoisseurs” in Japan, a cup of this coffee can cost over 900 dolrs.

  (T/N: 麝香猫; Shèxiāng Māo, Sumatran Civet Coffee, also known as Kopi Luwak, is one of the most exclusive, expensive, and exotic coffees in the world. It originates from Sumatra, Indonesia, and is made using coffee beans that have been eaten, partially digested, and excreted by Asian palm civets (locally called luwak).

  Given how rare it was, there was no way our small café could get it, nor had we ever thought about ordering it.

  “Tsk, that kind of coffee is so expensive. Sir, if you′re looking for a coffee with a strong chocote aroma, you could just go for a hot cocoa coffee or a chocote chip tte. They′re fantastic for this chilly weather too!”

  I felt a bit embarrassed and quickly recommended a hot cocoa coffee for just 50 yuan (USD 6.90) or a chocote chip tte for 70 yuan (USD 9.65), all while putting on a big smile.

  The young café owner sat at the counter, casually flipping through her Next Magazine, completely uninterested in helping me out of the situation.

  “Call your Albus out here. I want a cup of Sumatra civet coffee!” the King of Random Orders cackled, shaking the cash in his hand. “I′ve got plenty of money.”

  I sighed, watching the self-procimed humorist.

  Sigh, it was obvious to everyone that the King of Random Orders, with his belly bulging out, was trying to flirt with Albus. Too bad he didn′t know that Albus was a lesbian who only liked women. He didn′t stand a chance.

  Then Albus appeared, holding a mop, and coldly crified what the King of Random Orders wanted. Afterward, she turned and walked into the kitchen, emerging with the café′s resident cat, A Ku, who was munching on a piece of bread, and pced the cat on the counter.

  “If the civet from Sumatra needs to defecate, it′ll probably take about 30 minutes. Then, roasting will take another 30 minutes, and brewing will take 10 minutes. That′s a total of one hour and 10 minutes. Sir, will you wait?” Albus pointed at A Ku, who was still chewing on a French baguette and shaking its butt, looking blissfully unaware.

  “Albus, stop with this nonsense. I know this cat too; it′s A Ku, right?” The King of Random Orders froze for a moment.

  Albus cradled A Ku′s belly and gnced at the owner, who was still sitting at the counter, reading a magazine.

  "Sigh, A Ku is dead. This is our new cat, named Sumatra," the owner said casually without even looking up, then continued reading her gossip magazine.

  The King of Random Orders′ eyes widened in shock.

  “Sumatra is just his name. His full name is Sumatra Civet,” I said with a straight face, suppressing my ughter.

  The King of Random Orders stared at the poor A Ku, who had been given a new name.

  A Ku yawned loudly, letting out a stinky sigh.

  “One hour and ten minutes—will you wait or not?” Albus asked coldly, her gaze fixed on him.

  In the end, the King of Random Orders reluctantly ordered a chocote chip tte to go and stormed out in defeat.

  I couldn′t hold back and burst into ughter, but Albus and the owner just coolly continued what they were doing, as if nothing had happened. They truly were the best comedic duo.

  However, A Ku was a bit less fortunate. From then on, he was renamed Sumatra Civet, or just Sumatra for short, to make it easier to handle any simir ridiculous requests in the future.

  This story begins at the interesting café “Waiting for Someone.”

  In September of 2000, I had already spent one summer working there and was now entering my senior year of high school.

  At that time, Jay Chou had just released his very first album.