So this is to help me get away from writers block - it's gonna be a pretty slow burning fic. I got the idea somewhat from a Chinese show called Bromance? You guys should 100% watch it!

Also I know it's short but I just needed to get this part out before I could really start writing for it!

My parents met in the spring of 1993.

My father, without knowing a lick of Chinese traveled to the country after having visited many others on his abroad tour while studying different methods to make pastries. China was his last stop of many.

He stayed in a small town called Tongli and because of his lack of English not many restaurants in the area wanted to hire him but that didn't stop him from trying to learn all that he could.

My mother at the time was 20 years old. She lived on her own but worked in a small family run café with her uncle. Being a somewhat quiet woman my mother found herself mostly studying instead of going out in her free time but that never seemed to bother her.

My father started showing up to the café after having lived in the town around the first week. Language barriers kept him from making many friends. English had helped him get around many countries before but not many people in the small town knew the language considering that it was mostly populated with older people.

But barriers or non- he still noticed her.

He noticed my mother.

After his first visit to the café he admired the petit girl with the long rave hair who stood behind the counter practicing her constructing of pastries. He found it funny the way she would get frustrated after screwing up the decorations on her many practice attempts but he noticed that her uncle never disciplined but rather encouraged her tossing out many of the failed attempts.

He was probably one of the gentlest chefs to his apprentices even considering his intimidating size.

My father told me the first time he ever spoke with my mother he pointed towards the pile of disregarded bean buns and began to shuffle through his pants pockets t grab his wallet. My mother of course insisted that she give him the better looking pastries that her uncle had made but my father refused to take them. He only wanted the ones that she had made wither she thought they were perfect or not- he appreciated the care that she put into each pastry even when she knew they wouldn't turn out to be anything worth selling.

The first word my father learned was 'Xièxiè' – thank you.

And he milked that as much as he could.

He would spend every day in the café from the afternoon to their close. After a coupe days of perfecting his phrase to the baker he had met he bought an French to Chinese dictionary.

It wasn't until a couple days of my father trying and failing to speak with my mother that she finally decided to spare my father anymore embarrassment when she began to speak with him in French. Which in all honesty was probably more embarrassing to him but she appreciated his effort in trying to learn Chinese.

His way of never giving up was something that my mother had admired about him from the start.

My mother convinced her uncle to allow my father to work in their café the Chinese that he learned, while minimal, and still helped him get around their kitchen.

After a few months of living in the small town and working along side my mother it was time for my father to return back home but instead- he stayed.

He stayed much longer than anticipated- a few years longer in fact.

My parents got married in the Chinese countryside in the year 2000.

My mother shortly after found herself pregnant.

My grandmother was a Shaman. She predicted that my mother would give birth to a healthy baby boy in the month of August.

You may or may not know: I am a girl and I was born on October 30, 1999.

But my parents- being the young and anxious people they were they were determined to give me the best life that I could.

I was born in Beijing, China on October 30th, 2000 at 17:45 as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

To my luck and dismay my feminine physique never quite came into play. Though it wasn't something I ever minded. Long hair wasn't ever something I really liked on myself, short hair was much more manageable.

Growing up I was often mistaken as boy, often heard people calling me Marin in thoughts that they had heard my name wrong.

It didn't matter to me wither people viewed me as a man or woman. I knew who I was and that was all that mattered.

I grew up in a small townhouse in central Paris. The front of my home soon after moving into the place had become a bakery and after about three years into that process of constructing their own personalized bakery it finally opened.

For a while the only two things that they had they could afford to make together was red bean buns and macaroons. The two things that my parents bakery became the most successful for.

I grew up down the block from a small family who had also recently moved into the area and I made my first friend.

Her name was Alya Césaire, she was a year older than I was and the only other person besides my parents to ever call me Marinette.

Through my own choice I decided to become homeschooled through primary school. I was never particularly social as a child and I rather liked being home and learning what I wanted, my parents bought me the supplies I needed to create my designs as well as the knowledge I needed and a job inside their bakery.

But at 17 years old I realized that I was missing out. Though Alya was a handful enough to count for 10 friends in 1 she was still the only person I had, well, knew really. The stories that she had told me from her times in school with her classmates- all of the school trips they had taken and fun activities they did together made me envious.

I wanted that.

So I convinced my parents to allow me to go to school.