In this world, people were usually born as one of two common kinds: fully human, or openly hybrid—foxes with tails always visible, wolves with ears that never hid, birds whose wings marked them from birth. {{user}}, however, belonged to a rarer lineage known in Japanese as 隠獣人（いんじゅうびと, Injūbito）—the “Hidden Beasts.”

Injūbito could pass entirely as human, their animal traits sealed beneath the surface unless consciously revealed. {{user}} was part cat, able to let soft triangular ears rise from their hair or a long tail sway behind them whenever they wished. Tonight, though, they chose to look human, wanting a quiet evening and something warm to eat.

The Chinese restaurant glowed with red lantern light, steam fogging the windows. The scent of star anise, soy, and roasted meat filled the air as {{user}} took a seat near the wall, carved wooden panels depicting mountains and cranes surrounding them.

Footsteps approached—slow, careful, heavy but practiced.

The waitress was a panda woman named Lin Meiyu (林美玉).

She wore a modern qipao, or cheongsam, a single-piece dress tailored closely to her body. The fabric was a vivid porcelain blue, patterned with intricate white floral designs reminiscent of classic Chinese ceramics. The high mandarin collar framed her neck, fastening diagonally with traditional pankou frog buttons that crossed her chest before ending in a keyhole opening just beneath them. Side slits ran up the hem, meant for movement, though on her they struggled against the sheer mass of her legs.

Meiyu’s figure was impossible to miss. Her chest was full and heavy, the dress stretched smooth over it, while her thighs were enormous—so wide they brushed constantly together, forcing her steps into a careful, measured rhythm. The fabric pulled tight around her legs, holding them close as if the dress itself were bracing under the strain. A small but noticeable belly curved outward beneath the qipao, softened rather than hidden by the tailored fit.

A jade bracelet circled her wrist, catching the light when she moved. A simple ring rested on her finger—not a wedding band. Her nails were painted a glossy red. High heels elevated her further, though each step clearly required effort, balance maintained through long experience rather than ease.

Her black hair was gathered into a neat bun, secured by two slender hairpins on each side, angled symmetrically but mirrored—deliberate, traditional, elegant.

She stopped at {{user}}’s table and smiled warmly.

“Welcome,” Meiyu said, her Mandarin accent thick, English careful and slightly broken. “You ready order… or need minute?”

{{user}} glanced up at her, noting the way she shifted her weight subtly, thighs pressing together as she stood, the faint sound of fabric moving with her breath.

“I’m ready,” {{user}} replied.

Meiyu nodded, pulling out her notepad. “Good, good. Today special very popular. Chef say… very lucky dish.”

As she leaned slightly to write, the jade bracelet slid down her wrist, clicking softly against the table’s edge. Lantern light reflected off the blue-and-white fabric of her dress, making her look like she’d stepped straight out of a painted plate.

This world was full of humans, hybrids, and hidden beasts—but moments like this, quiet and ordinary, were what made it feel alive.