"I'm not interested in finding someone," I said. I rarely work diligently, but today I'm wiping a row of glass cabinets. Inside them are exquisitely made candies and pastries arranged in lovely poses, tempting and sinful.
Behind me is a woman in her thirties, with a round face, round eyes, picturesque features, exuding refinement from head to toe. She had ordered a cup of green tea and a serving of tiramisu, and she had been sitting in the rattan chair for an hour with only one purpose – to ask me to help her find someone, a man.
"I run a dessert shop, not a private detective agency," I replied, not sure how many times I had refused her. The newspaper is perched on my head like a comical hat.
"I know you're not human," the woman's deep brown eyes held a desperate look, as if grasping at a lifeline, "and I also know your rules."
She reached into her exquisite handbag and took out a package wrapped in black cloth, placing it heavily on the table. The black cloth unfolded, revealing dazzling golden brilliance.
"Even ten times more won't work," I sat across from her, pushing the pile of shiny treasure back towards her, "I've been very busy lately. I only have time to listen to one story from you. Anything else, I can't help with."
The light in the woman's eyes extinguished like a snuffed out candle.
During the beginning of summer in early May, the sunlight was gently warming the surroundings. There was an obscure little street, paved with bluestones, flanked by ash-colored walls covered in lush, ivy greenery. A few birds occasionally flew by, and a handful of people strolled along the path. At the far end of the street, there was a small courtyard. It was rumored to be a structure dating back to the Ming and Qing dynasties, with a delicate ginkgo tree in the backyard. Beneath the tree, a cluster of gardenia flowers was in full bloom, emitting a subtle and fragrant aroma. Six months ago, I had only cast a single glance at this place, but I bought it and opened this dessert shop. The shop's name is a bit peculiar - it's called "Unceasing."
The woman is right. I am not a human.
I am a tree demon, born in December on a snowy day. I’ve lived for millennia, wandering around in all directions. There has never been a place where I could settle for long.
I like gold, but I have no interest in desserts; I fear gaining weight. It's just that the two assistants I hired only know how to make desserts. They deceived my feelings, claiming they could do everything when they applied for the job, claiming to be master chefs of the highest order, but that was just hype. In short, my dream of opening a Sichuan restaurant ended in a disastrous failure and I opened a dessert shop.
"I am only interested in listening to stories," I said as the aroma of tea wafted through the air. I stretched lazily, and the pale evening sun shone through the window. My languid demeanor was a clear message to the woman: speak if you have something to say, leave if you don't.
"After hearing this story, I wonder if you'll change your mind?" The woman took a sip of the dark-green tea and furrowed her brow slightly.
I know that the tea brewed from those leaves is very bitter, and for every special customer who doesn't come for desserts, I recommend this tea.
This tea is called "Fleeting Life."
The woman set down the snow-white bone china teacup and took a light breath...
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