Chapter 48: The Teahouse

Zhang Wei's father was a concrete mixer truck driver, and ever since he was a child, Zhang Wei loved sitting in his father’s truck, so driving was nothing new to him. After graduating, he also obtained his driver’s license. Yet, this was the first time he’d ever sat in such a luxurious car.

The A8 had a spacious interior. Zhang Wei sat in the front passenger seat, the pale yellow leather upholstery delightfully comfortable. With its semi-automatic transmission and exclusive features, the engine displacement and the car itself together would fetch a total price of about three million yuan—a true luxury car by any standard in the country.

Though Zhang Wei was worth a million, it wasn’t even enough to buy half of this car. Zhou, who was a car enthusiast himself, spent his spare time on self-driving trips; that powerful engine, the abundant displacement—one step on the accelerator and it felt like thousands of horses galloping, filling one with a heroic sense of exhilaration.

“Zhang Wei, what do you think of my car? Not bad, right?” Zhou beamed with pride, patted the steering wheel, and pressed the accelerator. The car let out a deep rumble, then sped up a bit more.

“Brother Zhou, aren’t you just showing off? Asking someone who rides a bicycle what he thinks of your car? Besides envy, jealousy, and resentment, what else can I say?” Zhang Wei replied with a wry smile.

“What’s wrong with riding a bike? When I was your age, that’s what I rode too,” Zhou said, patting Zhang Wei on the shoulder encouragingly.

“When you were my age, bikes were still valuable. That was the equivalent of an A4 these days!” Zhang Wei joked.

“You little rascal, are you trying to call me old in a roundabout way? I’m only thirty-six this year, in a man’s golden age. Nowadays, that means seasoned and charismatic, especially appealing to young ladies.” Zhou thumped his chest and gave a thumbs-up.

“I’m not boasting, but if I hadn’t married so early, with my current circumstances, I…” Zhou was getting carried away, not noticing that Wu Qian in the back seat was already glowering with a face like frost. She suddenly reached out, grabbed Zhou’s ear, and twisted it, making Zhou yelp in pain. “Wife, let go! I was wrong, I won’t dare again!”

“Go on, Zhou! Weren’t you saying you’re in your prime? That you’re a charming, mature man? If you hadn’t married so early, what then? Want to get rid of me and find yourself a younger wife?” Wu Qian shot out a barrage of stern, increasingly loud questions.

“Sister-in-law, Zhou is driving right now; he can’t afford any distractions. Our safety depends on it. Maybe you should talk to him properly after we get out of the car,” Zhang Wei quickly interjected, feeling the car lurch and worrying for his life.

“Yes, Sister Wu! I think he was just speaking rashly; he didn’t really mean anything by it. Please forgive him for now,” Liu Yurou pleaded for Zhou on the surface, though in her heart she looked down on him even more, thinking, “Zhou is so useless. Wu Qian’s almost twisted his ear off, and he doesn’t even dare to say a firm word. I see him in a whole new light now.”

“Hmph, it wasn’t just a slip of the tongue. He’s been scheming for a while now. Sooner or later, he’ll divorce me and get himself a young wife!” Wu Qian suddenly grew agitated, as if something had struck a nerve.

Hearing Wu Qian’s words, Zhang Wei and Liu Yurou both froze, thinking perhaps she had discovered something or was hinting at the relationship between Zhou and Liu Yurou. The car grew so silent, they could hear each other breathing.

“Wife, don’t worry! In this lifetime, no one but you could ever be Mrs. Zhou Millionaire!” Zhou, for once, put on a rare, serious expression.

“Enough, it’s easy to say nice things now, but who knows what the future will bring?” Wu Qian sighed, let go of Zhou’s ear, and leaned back in her seat, a trace of exhaustion on her face.

Watching her in the rearview mirror, Zhang Wei was surprised to see such a vulnerable side to the usually assertive Wu Qian—something must have touched her deeply. It was also clear that she hadn’t discovered anything about Zhou and Liu Yurou.

Because of this unpleasant episode, everyone fell silent for the rest of the journey. Liu Yurou was especially tense, squeezing herself into a corner of the seat, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, terrified that Wu Qian might have found out about her and Zhou.

Half an hour later, Zhou pulled the car up at their destination. Once the car was parked, Zhang Wei and Liu Yurou got out first, with Zhou and Wu Qian trailing behind. Zhou turned to his wife, a look of sincerity on his plump face, and said, “Wife, whether or not we ever have children, I’ll spend my whole life with you.”

“Pah, spare me the sappiness. I’m only thirty-four, how do you know I won’t be able to have children?” Wu Qian retorted playfully, giving Zhou a slap on the cheek, though a warmth had crept into her heart.

Zhou might look simple and honest, but he knew how to say the right things. A few words were enough to coax Wu Qian into laughter again. Her own personality was rather carefree, and after letting off some steam, she soon forgot her earlier worries.

The matter of Wu Qian and Zhou not having children was nothing new. If she’d been brooding about it every day, she’d have been crushed by now. It was more of a periodic, intermittent anxiety—quick to arrive and just as quick to fade. Once out of the car, she was soon chatting and laughing with Liu Yurou again.

Led by Zhou, the four of them entered a teahouse. The place was decorated in a style evoking the old world: a black plaque with golden characters, wooden lattice doors and windows, and at the entrance stood a young man in a skullcap and gray robe, reminiscent of the early Republican era.

“Welcome, four guests! Please, come inside!” The young man called out loudly when he saw them, making a gesture of invitation and leading them in.

As soon as Zhang Wei entered the teahouse, he was greeted by the fragrance of tea—a bitterness with a hint of sweetness, lingering on the palate and leaving one wanting more. Zhang Wei’s father had also loved tea. Though their means were limited and they couldn’t afford anything fancy, he’d acquired some knowledge of various teas over the years.

The teahouse covered over a hundred square meters, with more than a dozen tea tables, all a yellowish brown, each set with rosewood tea sets and reddish-brown Yixing teapots. Several young women bustled about, brewing tea for the customers.

“Ah, President Zhou! Are you here for tea today, or to accompany a friend for some collecting?” A middle-aged man in a skullcap and blue robe approached, cupping his hands in greeting with a broad smile.

“Manager Wang, today I’m here neither for tea nor just to watch—I’ve come to spend money,” Zhou replied, returning the greeting and lifting his briefcase. “Look, I even brought my money with me.”

“Splendid! As it happens, we’ve just got some excellent items in. Let me show you around!” Manager Wang’s smile grew even more genuine and attentive.

This teahouse was not as simple as it seemed. Behind the tea hall was a special collection room for displaying antiques, and Zhou was a regular there, so Manager Wang was no stranger to him.

However, Zhou’s previous visits had always been for tea or accompanying friends shopping for collectibles—he rarely made a purchase himself. That was why Manager Wang hadn’t greeted him too warmly at first. But now that Zhou declared his intention to buy, Wang’s enthusiasm grew.

Manager Wang led them through the tea hall, opened a wooden door, and ushered them into the collection room. Only after stepping inside did Zhang Wei feel that this was a whole new world. The collection room was even larger than the tea hall—at least two hundred square meters.

Two hundred square meters was a considerable space, yet the room was filled to the brim with antiques and artwork—hundreds of items in all, of various types and sizes: ancient jade, porcelain, paintings and calligraphy, bronzes, and more.

It was Zhang Wei’s first time seeing so many antiques at once. His eyes couldn’t take it all in. He’d only ever seen such things on TV before, and nothing on screen could compare to the impact of seeing the real thing. Looking at these storied relics steeped in history, Zhang Wei even felt an urge to buy something himself.

“Well? Not a bad place, right?” Zhou, seeing the amazed looks on the faces of Zhang Wei, Wu Qian, and Liu Yurou, patted his round belly with satisfaction.

“Ah, isn’t that President Zhou again? Back to play the spectator or read with the prince?” No sooner had Zhou finished speaking than a mocking voice came from a corner of the collection room, prompting laughter from those around.