Chapter 48: Savoring Tea

Zhuang Chen loosened his tie. He really couldn’t get used to wearing formal attire—it was too tight, suffocating. The food wasn’t good either, and it was already ten o’clock. Eating late at night wasn’t healthy, so he decided to endure his hunger until tomorrow. The so-called investment circle was just as he’d expected; true experts were few and far between. Most were simply mingling in the scene, gambling on luck.

He hadn’t been bluffing with Old Tan—sooner or later, he would set up a fund. Not to speculate on the stock market and fleece the masses, but for charity, especially for orphans. That was his real goal.

He used to scoff at business tycoons who went on and on about how, once wealth reached a certain scale, it became a resource for the whole of society, and that entrepreneurs were nothing more than stewards, working for everyone else. Back then, it all sounded like empty posturing, but now he could see the truth in it.

He considered himself lucky—at least he didn’t have tens of thousands of employees depending on him. Still, with tens of billions before him, it was a massive responsibility. Forget the principal; the interest alone amounted to at least 4.2 billion a year. He could indulge in every conceivable vice—drink, women, gambling, drugs—but gambling and drugs were roads to ruin. Even if he spent every night with top-tier celebrities, he’d never run out of money.

Besides, for such an enormous windfall to land in his lap, if he didn’t do some good with it, would heaven really let it pass? The world was vast, filled with countless suffering souls. He wasn’t a savior, could only focus on one field: orphans. Only orphans.

He would leave professional matters to professionals, supervising as needed. At least he didn’t need to beg others for money or even resort to crowdfunding. Helping one person was already enough.

Whether emperor or beggar, in the end, everyone dies the same. As long as his conscience was clear, that was what mattered.

With this clarity, Zhuang Chen felt as if he’d found his direction. He could finally settle down and felt more grounded, a genuine smile appearing on his face. It felt truly good.

He’d eaten a mountain of oysters at lunch and, with the image of those long legs in black stockings still fresh in his mind, booked the presidential suite and picked a delivery—supposedly a senior secretary from a listed company.

She lay across the desk, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, her short skirt lifted as he took her from behind. It was an experience with its own unique flavor; no wonder so many men liked that sort of thing.

Afterwards, he threw down thirty thousand, went home to sleep. The next morning, there was jogging, swimming, and a massage in the morning, then an afternoon at North Lake No. 9 learning golf. The air there was fresh, a walk did him good.

In the evening, he’d play some video games, savor some red wine, and chat with Ding Mengyao on WeChat. Su Yun had received the official notice for new employee training; the company had arranged accommodation and meals for half a year. The girl was thrilled—she wouldn’t even need to pay rent.

“Tomorrow is Old Hao’s birthday?” After hanging up Hu Hai’s call, Zhuang Chen realized it was a rare opportunity to be invited. He’d heard the old man liked tea, so he decided to go out and buy something good.

He wasn’t much of a tea drinker himself, so he asked Xia Long as they got in the car, “Any recommendations?”

“Well…” Xia Long hesitated. After all, he didn’t know Hao Baoli’s taste, so he could only reply, “Since it’s a gift, why don’t we just get something expensive?”

Zhuang Chen nodded. If it was for himself, he’d consider value for money. But as a gift, it was better to go for something pricier. They headed straight for the city’s largest tea market, aiming for the most impressive shop. The owner, hearing a wealthy guest had arrived, personally prepared a tea ceremony for him. Red clay, bamboo charcoal, an old Kyoto iron kettle from the Longwen Hall, five purple clay teapots crafted by master artisans—all laid out, each filled with boiling water in turn.

Almost instantly, waves of tea fragrance filled the room, refreshing the mind, each variety offering a different aroma.

The first teapot, the Xishi pot, revealed slender green threads in clear spring water. The owner smiled as he introduced it, “The first is West Lake Dragon Well, pre-Qingming Lion’s Peak, the very finest. Please, have a taste.”

“Dragon Well Village is small, with limited tea production. There are many tourists, but most families can only pick a few dozen pounds of pre-Qingming tea each year—a hundred at most. The hills are blanketed with tea bushes, a sea of green stretching to the horizon. All tea from there is called West Lake Dragon Well, but Lion’s Peak is the most prized, especially the pre-Qingming leaves, considered the ultimate delicacy, fit for state banquets.”

He gently stirred the leaves floating at the mouth of the pot with the lid, demonstrating as he explained, “The frying technique is distinctive—tossing, carrying, pressing, shaking, stretching, spreading, grinding, tapping, pressing, grasping—all these methods give Dragon Well its signature golden edges and emerald leaves.”

Zhuang Chen picked up the cup, examining it closely. The leaves were indeed flat and elegant, smooth, uniform, with a yellow-green hue. After brewing, the fragrance was pure and high, orchid-like. The liquor was apricot green, clear and bright, the leaves tender and even, each bud standing upright, lifelike.

One sip and the taste was refreshing, lingering on the palate, the aftertaste endless. The faint orchid fragrance recalled the scent of wild spring orchids blooming in mountain valleys.

Seeing the client’s satisfaction, the owner chatted, “Dragon Well tea’s luck really began when Emperor Qianlong traveled south and rested at the Hu Gong Temple beneath Lion's Peak, near Dragon Well Village. A monk served him a bowl of Dragon Well tea. Weary and thirsty from the journey, and with the serene temple surroundings, His Majesty found the tea especially delightful.”

“Considering the name—Dragon Well for the tea, Lion’s Peak for the mountain, and the eighteen tea bushes before the temple, all auspicious signs—the emperor was pleased and immediately decreed the eighteen bushes before the temple to be ‘Imperial Tea.’”

“In ancient times, tea was like a scholar—if it wanted to stand out, it had to become tribute tea, just as scholars sought fame and office. Once favored by the emperor, chosen as the champion tea, it rose above all others.”

“Otherwise, no matter how fine the tea, it would go unrecognized, left to languish. Likewise, a scholar’s talents might be wasted if he failed the imperial exams. So, you see, there is a philosophy in tea.”

Next came the second pot. Lifting the lid, the leaves inside resembled the single, flat shape of melon seeds—naturally spread, edges slightly curled, a vibrant emerald green, uniform in size, with no tips or stems.

Bat Cave, Liu’an Melon Seed Tea!

After tasting it, Zhuang Chen found it refreshingly fragrant, mellow, and with a sweet aftertaste. The liquor was clear and bright, the leaves tender and vivid.

Slender buds just opening to reveal their green hue; to prevent aging, picking must be prompt. Every household in the county scents the air with tea smoke when spring comes.

The owner checked the third pot’s temperature and smiled, “This tea is rather special—it needs a longer brew. It should be just right now. Please try it!”

He opened the lid; the leaves were straight and sturdy, like dragon whiskers, dark green, with a rich, thick flavor and orange-yellow liquor.

“Wuyi tea grown on the mountain is called rock tea; near the water, it’s called islet tea. Among islet teas, there are famous varieties: Lotus Heart, White Down, Purple Down, Dragon Whisker, Phoenix Tail. The first bud before the leaf unfolds is called Lotus Heart. A two-inch branch, clipped and roasted, is called Phoenix Tail Dragon Whisker.”

Eight-Corner Pavilion, Dragon Whisker Tea!

Zhuang Chen’s eyes lit up after tasting—it had the aroma of green tea, but also a fresh floral scent. The liquor was orange-yellow, clear and bright. The flavor was rich, mellow, and sweet, with a refreshing aftertaste.

The owner took out some Dragon Whisker tea and explained, “This is a bundled tea, prized for its shape—a unique process requiring delicate hands. Most of the bundling is done by nuns at the Xianshan Temple, who recite sutras and prepare vegetarian meals.”

“They carefully sort and bundle the leaves, a crucial step in shaping the tea. The skill and speed of bundling directly affect the quality and style of Dragon Whisker tea.”

“The longer leaves go on the bottom, shorter ones on top, both ends bound with red or green silk threads, the base trimmed neatly with scissors, then two bundles joined together. The finished tea sometimes fans out slightly, resembling a phoenix tail—hence the name Phoenix Tail Dragon Whisker.”

He stood, bringing out two beautifully packaged gift boxes and smiled, “If you’re drinking for yourself, I recommend those three, especially the Lion’s Peak Dragon Well—its reputation is truly deserved.”

“But if it’s a gift, especially for an elder and price is not an issue, these two might be a better choice.”