Chapter 1 Sweet Retreat

Back in the old days, Alice Smith, in her university years, used to joke with friends as they strolled around the playground, "Someday, I'm going to open a bakery café, one that doesn't have to worry about survival. It'll be peaceful and serene."

After a few years of working in the bustling city, her life revolved around home and hotels, and many of her dreams faded--she never did open that bakery café.

Yet, she stumbled upon this small bakery café near her home, identical to the one she had once dreamed of.

The sign was colorful with beautifully scripted letters that read "Sweet Retreat".

The floor-to-ceiling windows and the bright yellow sofa invited warmth even before entering.

Without a second thought, she opened the door, scanned the place, and settled at a table by the window, ordering a Red Velvet Cupcake.

So, aside from her tiny studio apartment, this bakery café seemed like another home.

Whenever she had the time, Alice would dash downstairs and sit quietly, thinking about nothing.

But deep down, many things were etched deeply into her heart, not needing to be consciously thought about, deeply ingrained in her life like breathing.

The owner, Sarah, was in her early thirties, delicate-looking, yet there was a hint of weariness in her eyes.

They gradually got to know each other, and Alice often chatted with her, occasionally going out for meals and shopping.

They talked about everything under the sun but always skirted around their personal stories.

Mostly, they were sitting in the bakery café, enjoying their cake and coffee.

Alice would take her laptop, typing away at work materials and reports, occasionally glancing outside, her gaze restless.

Sarah was skilled at making various fancy cakes, expertly different designs, and flavors.

Only when Alice visited would she personally bring out a new type.

During her university days, Alice had no idea there was so much knowledge in cakes.

In the stuffy classroom, Salted Caramel Cupcake and Matcha Green Tea Cupcake didn't seem different, but she was stubbornly in love with all of them.

Sometimes, she felt a hint of embarrassment for being a bit posh--after all, being posh wasn't exactly a compliment anymore. Yet, she steadfastly declared, "I must open a bakery café!"

But later, she learned cakes were so complex.

All this intricacy was like life--learning to compromise and let go at the right moments.

Alice herself couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Was it the rich sweet taste she adored, or the ability to immerse herself fully in work after eating them? Or was it just the simple pleasure of holding the cakes?

The autumn in the south was delightful, with beautiful and colorful leaves spinning and falling, lying across the ground, their veins clearly defined.

Crunching underfoot, they made a satisfying sound.

A waiter served a small plate with New York Cheesecake, served cupcakes in a variety of flavors, smiling "Enjoy."

A young couple was chatting delightedly, they held their hands under the tablecloth patterned with tiny flowers.

Alice sat aside, watching quietly, suddenly remembering a phrase--a "cold observer."

Wasn't that the truth?

All lives were others', leaving only herself in this vast, endless city, busy but unable to pinpoint what exactly she was busy with.

And so, two months passed in such days, the temperature officially dropping.

Alice's apartment building was nestled conveniently close to the university town, but that convenience came at a price--the house price was very high.

Her parents gave her a large sum of money, and Alice happily bought a cozy studio apartment, spared from the monthly mortgage payments.

She had never planned to buy a car, because the subway station was so near.

"You had better learn to drive," her mom would urge, but Alice would just shake her head, "I've got no sense of direction, Mom. You know that?"

Her mother would let it go, switching topics instead, "Your aunt wanted to introduce you to a boy."

Alice would smile because her mother was a bit traditional and stubborn, but she'd just give her a look and sigh, leaving it at that.

On those cold, dry days, even with the sun out, it felt pretty powerless.

But the AC was nice and warm, so the sun outside seemed to come alive, jumping around livelily.

The bakery café was still fairly empty, with Sarah meticulously wiping the cute cake plates.

A pair of girls walked in, ordered a mini cupcake, and chattered softly.

Alice arrived, bundled up in a deep black wool coat, her checked scarf wrapped around her neck, her hair wind-tossed and falling softly over her shoulders and the scarf.

Sarah looked up and, seeing it was her, asked with a smile, "Cold?"

"Not really," Alice replied.

She left her coat aside, pulled out a red coffee travel mug, and said, "I'm going to get Chocolate Lover's Cupcake."

Sarah responded, "Great, It is fresh out of the oven."

Slowly, she walked out, in a gray sweater, her slender fingers holding the cupcake, taking a seat in the corner, putting her laptop on her knees, and typing.

Outside, a black car pulled up slowly.

A man in a beige trench coat got out, glancing at his watch, then entered, pausing to look around before heading to table number one.

His gaze was commanding, scanning the room just once, "Salted Caramel Cupcake and a cup of latte," he said, his voice deep and pleasing.

It was one of those lazy afternoons, a weekend to boot, and the bakery café started to fill up with customers.

The small shop had only three part-time college students as waitstaff, and Alice put down her cup to help out.

Sarah handed her the tray, jerking her chin towards the man at table number one, "Salted Caramel Cupcake and a cup of latte."

Alice couldn't help but admire him inwardly: this man had real charisma.

Undoubtedly, he was incredibly handsome, not bothering to hide that fact, but his laid-back, self-assured demeanor made his looks seem less over-the-top.

She carefully set the cup of latte to him, "Here's your cake and coffee. Enjoy."

Her movements were precise, her voice soft--John couldn't help but look up at her, and Alice gave him a gentle smile, her eyes clear and bright, "Sir, please enjoy your coffee."

There were quite a few customers at the shop, and as she turned to clear away the plates from a table at the side, her back to him, John Williams' eyes casually swept over her.

She was smiling as she seated a young boy, who blushed slightly.

With a suppressed giggle, she returned to the bar.

Later, Alice returned to her seat, still focused on the computer screen, occasionally glancing out the window and taking a sip from her coffee.

The transparent glass shielded her from the cold, and her long hair fell over her small face, her smile silent and unassuming, like a small, warm ember.

John's eyes lingered on her subtle, thin smile, and he felt warm.

He shifted his gaze to the window, where a taxi had stopped, and a woman got out.

With a sip of his coffee, he paid and left.