"Are you fucking deaf? I asked for an iced Americano, idiot!"
A scalding latte crashed onto the counter in front of Jiang Li.
Coffee splashed out and landed on the cuff of her faded white shirt. The fabric instantly soaked up the dark brown liquid.
Jiang Li's fingers froze in midair.
She had carried the cup forty meters, from the counter to the booth, weaving around three tables, her hand steady.
But now the scalding liquid was running down her wrist, and her skin burned with pain.
Someone at the next table snickered.
