Chapter 27: Homemade Coffee

Looking at the satisfied expressions of his companions, then at the cup of delicious coffee in his own hand—a brew that defied all known legends—a mischievous thought took root in Chen’s mind, blooming into a powerful urge for verification.

“Uncle Himeko, your coffee is indeed… exceptionally good,” Chen began, setting his cup down.

He then pivoted with a sly grin.

“However… as the saying goes, seeing is believing—no, wait, tasting is believing?

What I mean is…”

His gaze swept over March 7th, Dan Heng, and Ms.

Welt, finally settling back on the navigator.

“Since everyone loves coffee so much, why don’t you… try a cup that I’ve brewed?”

The question dropped into the quiet atmosphere of the Parlor Car, stunning everyone into silence.

March 7th blinked, his expression a mask of confusion.

“Eh?

Chen, you know how to make coffee?

You never said anything about that before!”

Dan Heng, ever the silent observer, now cast a scrutinizing, doubtful look in his direction.

Qiong simply held her cup, her eyes flicking from Chen to the dregs of coffee at the bottom of her own porcelain.

She seemed to be seriously weighing the pros and cons of trying another cup brewed by him.

“Me?

Of course not,” Chen declared with an air of perfect innocence, though the corners of his mouth curled into a sly smile.

“But—Himeko does!”

Before the words had even fully registered, and long before anyone could react, a familiar light flickered to life around him.

His entire form began to rapidly adjust and reshape within the shimmering cascade of light and shadow.

The lean, youthful lines of a young man softened, maturing into elegant grace.

Broad shoulders and a narrow waist melted away, replaced by the smooth, beautiful curves of a woman.

His short black hair grew at an impossible rate, cascading down into a head of fiery, carefully styled crimson curls.

The new set of casual clothes he wore seemed to be redrawn by an invisible hand, morphing into a perfectly tailored black coat over a white dress that exuded intellectual charm.

A few seconds later, where Chen had stood, there was now a woman.

Her temperament was mature and gentle, her features a seventy to eighty percent match for Uncle Himeko’s… but somehow more exquisite, her figure taller and more slender.

A “Himeko (Female Version)” stood gracefully by the table.

She—Chen’s current incarnation—even raised a hand and elegantly tucked a stray strand of red hair behind her ear.

The movement was as fluid and natural as if it had been practiced a thousand times over.

The entire Parlor Car fell utterly silent.

March 7th’s mouth hung wide open, the cup in his hand tilting precariously.

“Wha… Whaaaah?!” he finally managed to stammer out.

“Th-that’s… Uncle Himeko?!” His eyes widened in disbelief.

“No, wait, is that Big Sister Himeko?!”

A string of nonsensical syllables tumbled from his lips as he looked from the stunning woman back to the genuine Uncle Himeko sitting nearby.

His brain seemed to short-circuit.

A rare, undisguised look of bewilderment washed over Dan Heng’s usually stoic face.

Ms.

Welt suddenly choked, a strangled cough barely stopping her from spraying a mouthful of coffee across the table.

She whipped off her glasses and began polishing them vigorously with a handkerchief, jamming them back onto her face as if a clearer lens would somehow resolve the impossible sight before her.

Her gaze darted back and forth between the two Himekos, her composure finally cracking.

Qiong, however, was the quickest to accept the new reality.

She simply tilted her head, her gaze filled with pure, unadulterated curiosity as she studied the new red-haired woman who looked so much like Uncle Himeko, yet so different.

There was no shock in her eyes, only a silent acknowledgment of, ‘Oh, Chen changed again.’

And as for the other party involved, the real Uncle Himeko was also, for a rare moment, rendered speechless.

The gentle smile on his face froze, replaced by an incredibly complex expression: a flicker of surprise, a hint of scrutiny, and a subtle, almost imperceptible sense of recognition.

Was his female version really so… charming?

He let out a light cough, seemingly about to say something, but ultimately just raised an eyebrow and made a small, elegant gesture with his hand—a silent invitation to ‘begin the show.’

“Well then,” Chen said, his voice now a soft, melodious alto.

He seemed thoroughly satisfied with the chaos he had sown.

Wearing a gentle smile that was a perfect imitation of Himeko’s own, she turned towards the coffee machine and began to skillfully inspect the equipment and the remaining beans.

“Let me see… Hmm, there are still plenty of beans.

The grind needs a slight adjustment, and the water temperature…” she murmured to herself, already starting the process.

Her technique was surprisingly masterful—grinding the beans with a quiet whir, distributing the dark powder, tamping it down with a firm, even press, and locking the portafilter into place.

Soon, the rich, intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed coffee once again filled the air.

“Here we are.

The first cup is for the most supportive Little March,” Chen said, handing the first cup of extracted espresso to a still-reeling March 7th.

She even gave him a playful wink.

March 7th took the cup in a fluster, his face flushing a bright red as he muttered under his breath, “Who… who are you calling little…”

“The second cup is for the ever-reliable Miss Dan Heng.”

Dan Heng accepted it silently.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes meeting hers, before he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“The third cup, for you, Sister Welt.

Please, offer me your guidance.”

The word “Sister” made Ms.

Welt’s eyelid twitch again, but she maintained her grace and accepted the coffee with a quiet thank you.

“The fourth cup… for our quietest trailblazer, Qiong.” Chen handed over a cup of milk coffee, prepared just for her.

Finally, she poured a small cup for herself and then one more.

She walked over to Uncle Himeko, who had been observing the entire performance from the side, his expression having long since returned to one of calm, appreciative amusement.

“And now, for the very last one,” she said, handing one of the cups to the genuine Uncle Himeko.

She raised her own, her smile bright and genuine.

“To Trailblaze, to the journey, and… to our one and only Astral Express Navigator, Mr.

Himeko.”

She paused, a playful glint in her eyes.

“And to this cup of coffee, personally prepared by another you, which might taste just a little bit different.”

Himeko took the cup, his own smile flowing into his eyes.

He lightly clinked his cup against hers.

“To Trailblaze,” he replied smoothly, “and… to this unexpected surprise.”

[Elysian’s Note:

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