Chapter 149: The Tycoon's Tea House

After a few dishes were served, Zhuang Chen tucked in with great gusto, confirming that this was indeed a paradise of delicacies, fully deserving of its legendary reputation.

Glancing back at the owner who was bustling away beside the roaring flames, Chua Lam reminisced, "Dai Pai Dongs are a collective memory for the people of Hong Kong. Especially when the high-output stoves coax out rich aromas, the heat-billowing plastic tents are carefully tucked away amidst the towering, closely packed skyscrapers. To this day, the most primitive fuel used by the twenty-odd surviving Dai Pai Dongs—kerosene—is what we call 'fire water'."

"Wok refers to a large cooking vessel. Wok hei is even more subtle and profound; it requires not only using a large wok, but also being generous with oil, stir-frying quickly over high heat, and constantly tossing the food in the air. Under the action of high heat and hot oil, the ingredients release an even more intense aroma."

"Take this stir-fried bitter melon with beef, for example. Because the fire is fierce enough, the beef doesn't need to be pre-cooked in hot oil and drained like it would be at home; it goes straight into the wok. A quick toss, add the bitter melon, and it's ready to be plated in three minutes. The beef is tender, the bitter melon is crisp—absolute classic fare for a Dai Pai Dong."

"I have a bad habit: whenever I find a good place to eat, I can't help asking the owner if they have children. If there's no next generation, I worry that these wonderful flavors won't be passed down. Especially with places like these Dai Pai Dongs, preserving them for even one day is a matter of luck. So while we travel this path, let us cherish them!"

Zhuang Chen felt a deep sense of resonance. Both wet markets and Dai Pai Dongs were places brimming with the warmth of everyday human life. The hustle, the bustle, and the haggling over every penny here were the traces of ordinary people striving to live, filled with joy, anger, sorrow, joy, and even life's partings and reunions...

Recalling Chua Lam's Gourmet Tour broadcast on television years ago, he calculated that more than a decade had passed since then. At that time, he was sixty-three, with graying hair and beard, yet still standing tall. He carried his signature monk's bag and traveled everywhere to eat and drink accompanied by three beautiful female co-hosts.

Occasionally, he would invite Ni Kuang or Chau Chung, and the old gentlemen would banter with each other, laughing and scolding, discussing past and present—truly behaving like a cheerful, merry monk of pleasure.

Last year, on the show *A Thirteen-Inquiry*, the literati Xu Zhiyuan had also interviewed him. Zhuang Chen didn't much care for the host's style, always trying to dig out some melancholy behind hedonism. The conversation had reached a dead end time and again, with points of discussion sounding like a baseless, affected groan.

Chua Lam kept telling Xu Zhiyuan that this food was delicious and that food was also delicious. Finding it impossible to continue the conversation, he simply burst into laughter: "Don't think too much, my friend, you're always thinking way too much!"

Back then, separated by the screen, Zhuang Chen had wanted to curse. It was a pity that such magnificent delicacies had been cast before the unappreciative, failing to be properly savored. Never had he imagined that today he would actually have the opportunity to eat, drink, and chat face-to-face with his idol...

After an entire meal of conversation, he found that the old master's irreverent, devil-may-care spirit from his early years had not worn away in the least. He remained a fanatical lard enthusiast, feeling that any dish lacked something without a touch of lard.

He loved all greasy, flavorful foods, eating whatever he pleased without any bodily restraint, and even rationalizing it with the phrase: "You have to be happy! It's unhappiness that makes you sick."

"I love saying one thing: 'If a woman isn't a bit wild, and mutton doesn't have its gamey scent, both are completely tasteless!'"

With two bottles of red wine polished off, Chua Lam rubbed his belly and said with satisfaction, "Eating and sex are basic human instincts; women are just as worthy of cherishing as fine food. In my eyes, beautiful women who love to eat are the cutest!"

"No matter what sound they make, they feel adorable, especially when nibbling with small lips. Even when opening wide and devouring their food voraciously, it's sexy as hell."

"If you really run into those pretentious, troublesome hussies, there's no forgiving them. I'd just want to kick them right out the restaurant door."

Zhuang Chen laughed out loud. The reason he admired Chua Lam was because the man possessed a carefree spirit, consistent inside and out, and never concealed his inner desires.

"Women look their best when they're slightly tipsy—cheeks flushed, smiling brightly, occasionally tilting their heads back to brush away the long hair covering their faces. It's simply..."

Settling the bill and leaving, Zhuang Chen supported the old master into the car. Both had consumed quite a bit of alcohol. Chua Lam was in high spirits; having rarely met a kindred spirit across generations, he told Hsia Hu to drive to the Luk Yu Tea House so they could drink some tea to sober up.

Zhuang Chen had also long heard of this teahouse. With a history of 85 years, this legendary establishment had long since become the symbol of a cultural icon.

Not only did Chua Lam call it the most famous teahouse, but another like it could not be found anywhere else in the world. Even the Michelin Guide could only describe it as the last of its kind.

Starting in the 1930s, places for drinking tea in Hong Kong were categorized into teahouses, tea restaurants, and tea pavilions, with teahouses holding the highest prestige.

Lu Yu was the Tea Sage of the Tang Dynasty and authored *The Classic of Tea*, the world's first professional treatise on tea. Through the ages, tea connoisseurs revered him as the founding patriarch, so the teahouse named itself Luk Yu to attract patrons with exceptional tea.

Arriving at the destination and stepping out of the car, Chua Lam pointed at the entrance and smiled, "In the past, there were always Indian watchmen guarding the door here, and it used to be swarming with celebrities and tycoons. It's much more low-key now."

Entering the door, they headed straight for the private room on the first floor. The second and third floors entertained guests, while the ground floor was exclusively reserved for regular patrons. Chua Lam led Zhuang Chen into a private room with practiced ease; without even needing to order, the waiter promptly brought out a variety of dim sum.

The old master was glowing with health. Pointing at the various old photographs on the wall, he smiled and said, "Do you know how arrogant this place used to be? In 1975, Queen Elizabeth visited Hong Kong and wanted to drop by the former site of the Luk Yu Tea House to sample authentic Cantonese tea. But the owner turned the old British lady away, claiming that all tables were fully booked!"

"When things got crowded, the ground floor would rather be left empty than let strangers sit. Would you say that's badass or not?"

Zhuang Chen looked around. It adopted the style of Lingnan teahouses in Guangzhou, with furniture made of red sandalwood and pear wood. Traditional Chinese elements were subtly blended with touches of Western interior design.

Half of an antique polychrome ceramic wall vase held a arrangement of seasonal flowers; white glass wall sconces, Italian colored stained-glass paintings framed in Chinese teakwood relief, antique ceiling fans hanging from above, and white gauze tied to the doorposts and handles...

Everything exuded an antique charm, adorned with numerous calligraphy works and ink paintings, including even small fan-shaped pieces by Zhang Daqian, Huang Yongyu, and Ren Bonian.

Chua Lam smiled and said, "Most of these ink masterpieces were generously left behind by literati and scholars who frequently came here for tea in the old days and had a good relationship with the owner, embodying the grandmasters' deep attachment to the Luk Yu Tea House."

"In 1996, there was a refined thief who specifically came to the teahouse to steal eighteen famous paintings. Their whereabouts remain unknown to this day, adding another unsolved urban mystery to the teahouse. Even the restroom has a story—didn't you just visit Fook Lam Moon, which is touted as the restaurant for tycoons?"

Chua Lam joked, "If you ask me, this is the truly authentic place for tycoons. Back then, when the rent at the old location rose and the landlord tried to make things difficult for the owner, Huo Yingdong and a group of regular patrons simply threw down a fortune to buy the entire building outright, naming it the Luk Yu Building. That allowed the teahouse to operate in peace, and prior to the handover, multiple governors frequently hosted banquets here."

Zhuang Chen was speechless. To own an entire building in Central, where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold—Luk Yu was indeed formidable!

"On a very ordinary day in 2002, the invisible tycoon Lin Hanlie came here for tea as usual, sipping tea with friends at his customary Table 18, when he was unfortunately shot and killed at close range by a professional hitman. The modus operandi was identical to something straight out of a movie..."

"Society was in an uproar at the time, which only endowed the teahouse with an even stronger underworld aura akin to an urban legend. To this day, many tycoons still make it a habit to stop by for a cup of tea and a couple of baskets of dim sum before striking major business deals."

Just then, a waiter walked into the room wearing a white tunic and black trousers in traditional Tang style, carrying a hot water kettle to top up the guests' tea. After exchanging a few friendly words with the veteran floor attendant, the man smiled and left. Once the waiter was out the door, Chua Lam remarked, "The veteran staff here all have their own personalities and pace of work—you can never rush them!"

"Don't let their advanced age and leisurely movements fool you; their memory is razor-sharp. When regular patrons arrive, they instantly know what tea they drink and where they like to sit. Sometimes, you don't even need to order dim sum."

"They read the financial news thoroughly every day and can converse effortlessly with the wealthy tea patrons. The tips they rake in every month exceed the salary of an average office worker."