Living signboard

Working at the "Encounter" restaurant was like injecting lubricant into Qi Shuo's long-rusted gears of life, allowing them to begin turning slowly but steadily.

Working from nine to six, with a base salary of three thousand yuan a month and a full attendance bonus of four hundred yuan, this rhythm, which may be boring or even financially strained for many people, is a kind of luxurious order and tranquility for him.

Every morning, he would ride the electric bicycle Qin Zhou had given him, through the gradually awakening streets. The early spring breeze carried a chill, yet also the fresh scent of new buds and leaves, brushing against his face, real and biting.

He would arrive at the restaurant on time, change into the uniform black and white attire—a well-tailored vest and shirt that unexpectedly flattered his slender and upright figure. Then came the pre-shift preparations: wiping the tableware, setting up the tables and chairs, and checking the supplies. These simple, repetitive tasks, requiring little thought, allowed his mind to clear, bringing him a strange sense of peace.

The restaurant manager, surnamed Chen, was a kind-looking, tactful middle-aged man who seemed to have received some kind of "special treatment." He didn't criticize or question Qi Shuo too much, only asking him to do his job well.

Most of the colleagues were young, including apprentices who had just graduated from vocational school and college students working part-time. At first, they couldn't help but feel curious and distant about this taciturn new colleague whose eyes held a quietness and aloofness that was inconsistent with his age.

One lunch break, while everyone was eating their staff meal together, a straightforward young chef jokingly asked, "Brother Qi, you don't talk much, but you're pretty cool. What did you do before?"

The air fell silent for a few seconds. Several young waiters, who had already caught wind of the situation, exchanged glances, feeling awkward and wanting to say something, but unable to find the words.

Qi Shuo paused, holding his chopsticks. He raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping calmly over everyone. His voice was not loud, but clear and without the slightest hesitation: "He committed a crime and spent several years in prison."

His words were so direct that they stunned the chef who asked the question, leaving him speechless and unsure how to respond.

A subtle awkwardness and tension settled over the area, as if the air itself were freezing. Everyone subconsciously held their breath, anticipating potential discrimination, fear, or awkward silences.

However, to Qi Shuo's surprise, after a brief silence, Manager Chen broke the ice first. He picked up the serving chopsticks and put a piece of rib on Qi Shuo's plate, speaking as naturally as if he were discussing the weather:

"Who hasn't made a mistake when they were young? What's past is past, what matters is the present. Come on, try how well the ribs are cooked today."

His words seemed to be a signal, and a young waitress with a ponytail next to him whispered, "That's right, Brother Qi, you just need to focus on your work now."

Another vegetable cutter scratched his head and smiled sheepishly: "In our kitchen, everyone has a bit of a dark past. As long as you're not a bad person and work hard, you're a good brother!"

There was no expected alienation or fear, nor excessive sympathy or pity. People were only briefly surprised, and then accepted him in a more cautious yet more considerate manner.

They would subconsciously avoid discussing topics related to law or prison, and wouldn't deliberately disturb him when he was alone and silent. However, when sharing snacks or drinks, they would always naturally save some for him, and would warmly invite him to meals together occasionally. That kind of careful "attention" was not out of discrimination, but more like a tacit protection, for fear of unintentionally triggering bad memories for him.

This atmosphere was something Qi Shuo had never experienced before. Within the high walls, the rules were strict, and the relationships between people were either naked confrontation or temporary alliances formed out of the need for survival.

After his release from prison, he anticipated the unconditional warmth from Sister Jin and Qin Zhou, as well as the cold indifference that society generally presents. He never imagined that he could receive such a kind and gentle treatment from a "stranger," someone who maintained a distance yet was full of goodwill.

He could chat briefly with his colleagues about the weather and news during busy breaks; after get off work, he would occasionally be dragged to a nearby noodle shop by the honest vegetable cutter Qiangzi to have a bowl of noodles, where he would complain about his wife being too strict; he would also receive pickles or snacks made by his mother, which the young receptionist Alin insisted on giving him, under the guise of "tasting the flavors of home".

All of this made Qi Shuo feel as if he were walking on soft clouds, giving him a strong sense of unreality.

He was like a traveler who had been parched and finally received rain, greedily absorbing this ordinary warmth while remaining constantly wary that this beauty was nothing but a mirage.

He still didn't talk much, but the tight lines at the corners of his mouth softened slightly with the daily routine.

However, this tranquility was soon shattered. Qi Shuo himself may not have realized that his cold and aloof demeanor, honed through hardship, combined with his impeccable features and tall, slender figure, dressed in a well-fitting waiter's uniform, quietly moving through the elegant restaurant, was itself an extremely eye-catching sight.

At first, there were only sporadic discussions. Young female customers would blush and whisper to their companions how handsome the waiter was; white-collar workers who came in groups would linger on his face for a few more seconds when paying the bill.

Qi Shuo didn't react much to this, simply doing his job dutifully and ignoring all the stares directed at him.

But at some point, the proportion of young customers in the restaurant noticeably increased. Especially during afternoon tea and dinner, groups of three or five high school girls or college students could often be seen ordering a drink or a dessert, then following Qi Shuo's busy figure with burning eyes, a mixture of excitement and shyness. Whispers and sneaky phone photos also became more frequent.

"Look, look! It's him! The icy waiter from 'Encounter'!"

Wow, he's even more handsome up close! His charisma is amazing!

"I wonder if I can get their contact information..."

Manager Chen looked at the sudden surge in customer traffic and bills, his feelings mixed. On the one hand, improved business was naturally a good thing; on the other hand, these young customers, whose true intentions were not business, also brought some management challenges.

Sometimes they would occupy seats for a long time in order to stay a little longer, affecting the table turnover rate; sometimes they would deliberately find excuses to call Qi Shuo for service, ask some irrelevant questions, and try to strike up a conversation.

Qi Shuo found this extremely annoying. He was used to and craved the kind of mechanical tranquility of being ignored, rather than being the center of attention.

He always responded with the most concise and professional language, then quickly left, leaving behind a cold and aloof silhouette. But this only fueled the desire for conquest in some of the young people.

Trouble finally came knocking on my door one Friday night.

The table was occupied by four or five young men and women who appeared to be from wealthy families and had been drinking. They were noisy and unruly. One of the girls, dressed fashionably and with exquisite makeup, had her eyes practically glued to Qi Shuo from the moment she sat down. When Qi Shuo served them for the third time, the girl, emboldened by the alcohol, stood up and blocked Qi Shuo's way of leaving.

"Hey, waiter," she raised her chin, a confident yet somewhat arrogant smile on her face, and shoved a piece of paper with a phone number on it into Qi Shuo's hand, "Want to be friends? It's so boring being here serving dishes. Come out with me and I guarantee it'll be much more fun than being here."

Her companions booed and laughed.

Qi Shuo's brows furrowed instantly. He looked at the note that was almost touching his hand, and his eyes suddenly turned cold, as if they were covered with ice. He took a step back, avoiding the other person's touch, and said in a voice devoid of warmth, "Sorry, it's not convenient during work hours."

The girl was taken aback by his decisive rejection and felt a little embarrassed. Her tone was filled with dissatisfaction: "What are you pretending to be so high and mighty for? He's just a waiter. You're not taking my face even though I'm giving you face." As she spoke, she reached out to grab Qi Shuo's arm.

Just then, a hand with distinct knuckles reached out from the side and gently brushed the girl's hand away. It was the restaurant's supervisor, a slightly older, composed woman named Sister Lin.

"Excuse me, sir, please have some self-respect and do not disturb our staff's normal work." Sister Lin said with a professional smile, but her tone left no room for argument. At the same time, she gestured to the security guard standing not far away.

Seeing that things were getting out of hand, the girl's male companion quickly got up to smooth things over and pulled the still somewhat unreasonable girl back to her seat.

Qi Shuo whispered to Sister Lin, "Thank you, Sister Lin."

Looking at his still tense expression, Sister Lin sighed softly and said in a low voice:

“It’s alright, go to the kitchen and help Qiangzi check the inventory. I’ll handle things here.” She paused, then added, “Xiao Qi, it’s not your fault that you’re good-looking, but in this place, you’re bound to encounter all sorts of people. Learn to protect yourself, and if necessary, don’t hold back. The restaurant will be on your side.”

Qi Shuo nodded, then silently turned and walked towards the kitchen. Behind him, he could still faintly hear the dissatisfied grumbling of the guests at that table and Sister Lin's composed responses.

The narrow kitchen corridor, filled with the smells of food ingredients, separated him from the hustle and bustle outside. He leaned against the cold wall and slowly closed his eyes. Just a moment ago, when that girl approached him, reeking of alcohol and acting arrogantly, a long-forgotten, violent emotion, similar to the one he felt when faced with provocation in prison, almost overwhelmed his reason.

The peace he longed for turned out to be so fragile, so easily shattered.

This job brings not only a salary to make a living, but also a complex web of interpersonal entanglements that he must relearn and deal with.

He was like a plant struggling to emerge from the frozen ground, yearning for sunshine and rain, yet also beginning to face the harsh realities of the world.

He knew that what had just happened would not be the last. And how to find a balance between this longed-for "normal" life and the unavoidable "trouble" was another challenge he had to face alone.

Outside the window, the city's neon lights gradually illuminated. Qi Shuo took a deep breath, suppressing the surging emotions in his heart, and reopened his eyes. His gaze regained its usual calm, but deep within, there was a hint of weariness and coldness.

He straightened his uniform and strode toward the warehouse.

Life goes on, and whether it's true or not, he has to keep going.