Chapter 39: Drink Tea, Drink Tea

Wang Yan handled the backlog of affairs from the past few days and gave instructions regarding the operation against the Liang family. He also had tea with two bosses and chatted idly—before he knew it, the day was over.

He felt like he hadn’t done anything at all, yet suddenly it was night.

In the evening, Gu Jia called and said she wanted to go pick up Xu Ziyan together with him.

Wang Yan drove to pick up Gu Jia and headed toward the kindergarten.

“Xu Huanshan will be here too,” Gu Jia said in the car.

“Mm, I know.”

After a moment of silence, Gu Jia continued: “My dad found out about us. He called me today and said he wants to meet you.” She stole a glance at Wang Yan’s reaction.

A marriage formed in the middle of life is hard to handle, especially since they’d already met once at her birthday party. If her father were a powerful man who could help Wang Yan’s career, that’d be one thing—but the truth was, he had no clout at all.

She worried Wang Yan might resent it; after all, who wouldn’t feel uneasy about suddenly having a live-in father-in-law?

Wang Yan, focused on driving, showed no reaction to this news—it was perfectly normal.

In an instant, he understood the whole situation.

Gu Jia wouldn’t tell her father about this; she was an adult, and her father had heart problems. She’d hide it as long as she could—why make him worry unnecessarily?

Without thinking, he guessed: Xu Huanshan must have discovered them together last time, then stewed over it, got angry, and called Gu Jia’s father to vent about her flaws, blaming everything on her. What a grown man acting like a nagging woman—his mouth was as loose as a cotton-padded pant waist.

“Let’s have dinner together tonight. I’ll meet your dad—it’ll put his mind at ease.”

Hearing Wang Yan’s reply, Gu Jia exhaled in relief.

She called her father, telling him to wait while they came to pick him up.

Women always overthink—she’d just relaxed, and now she was already fretting about how to handle meeting Xu Huanshan.

She wasn’t worried about anything else—she knew Xu Huanshan’s temper. She only feared he’d make a scene in public. She didn’t care, but Xu Ziyan still went to school there. How could a child bear gossip? This wasn’t the past, when nothing had happened.

It wasn’t far—just two streets away—and they arrived quickly.

The kindergarten was upscale; its parking lot looked like a car exhibition. If they had to queue, Wang Yan’s A8 definitely wouldn’t cut it.

Cars were parked haphazardly everywhere. At dismissal time, traffic was jammed solid.

They slowly squeezed in, searching for a parking spot.

Xu Huanshan had sharp eyes—he spotted them the moment they got out and walked over, arm linked with Lin Youyou.

“Old Wang, you’re really my good brother,” Xu Huanshan sneered.

He didn’t act out—time had passed, and he’d calmed down. Even ignoring Wang Yan’s status, shouting or fighting wouldn’t help; it’d only make Gu Jia look down on him, thinking he couldn’t let her go. Besides, he knew Wang Yan was trained, taller than him, and had influence. He wasn’t stupid—he knew his limits.

Gu Jia couldn’t hold back; hearing Xu Huanshan’s sarcasm, she moved to argue.

Wang Yan stopped her. No amount of words would matter—he’d only believe what he wanted to believe. Otherwise, how could he sleep at night?

He put his arm around Gu Jia and said warmly: “Hey, Old Xu, what are you talking about? You’re being too formal.”

Male possessiveness is strange. For their own women, casual flings don’t count—but once emotion is invested, whether ex-wife or ex-girlfriend, any intimate contact with another man triggers fury and pain. Is it love—or just “if I don’t want it, neither can you”?

Seeing Gu Jia, sweetly nestled in Wang Yan’s arms, Xu Huanshan’s face turned ashen—but he held back: “Let me introduce you—my wife, Lin Youyou. We got married last week.” He switched from linking arms to wrapping them around her, glaring defiantly at the two across from them.

He was doomed to disappointment. Such childish behavior left Wang Yan and Gu Jia utterly expressionless—they simply stared calmly.

Wang Yan almost said, “We got married the day after your divorce.” But he didn’t. Xu Huanshan was already volatile; causing a scene here among so many parents would be bad.

He also had to consider Xu Ziyan. The kid had spent the whole day basking in admiration, boasting nonstop. If he came back tomorrow to be mocked, he might even have to transfer schools—that’d be devastating.

Getting no response, Xu Huanshan dared not provoke Wang Yan—he knew the consequences. He awkwardly saved face: “I sold the house. I’ll transfer the payment to you in a couple days.”

Gu Jia finally reacted—she nodded slightly, then ignored him. Their bond was long gone; she wouldn’t even spare him a second glance.

Lin Youyou didn’t cause trouble—she had no right to speak here. Now that both were married, she understood why Xu Huanshan compared her to Gu Jia, even if it angered her. Seeing Gu Jia, her joy at achieving her goal soared even higher, so she chose to be magnanimous.

Besides, Xu Huanshan had suddenly proposed to her recently. She’d asked him why, and she knew the full story.

She’d even asked Xu Huanshan about Wang Yan’s identity. Though she resented Gu Jia for landing a wealthy man, Lin Youyou knew her place—she wasn’t stupid. Even if nothing else, Xu Huanshan still had some feeling for Xu Ziyan; Wang Yan wouldn’t go too far. Who was she? He certainly wouldn’t indulge her. She dared not provoke Wang Yan.

Everyone waited by the gate for the children to be dismissed. Gu Jia chatted casually with familiar parents.

The odd atmosphere had drawn attention—everyone waited for drama. But nothing happened. A bit disappointing.

“Xu Ziyan’s mom, long time no see! What’ve you been up to lately?”

Familiar parents, gossiping old women, came over, feigning casualness but probing for details.

Gu Jia, a social expert, effortlessly defused the storm Xu Ziyan didn’t even know was brewing.

Soon, the children were dismissed.

From afar, Xu Ziyan spotted them, his short legs scurrying toward them.

Xu Huanshan thought he was coming for him—he opened his arms and crouched down, waiting for his son to run into his embrace.

But his son was truly impressive—he didn’t even glance at him. He shouted, “Dad!” and threw himself at Wang Yan’s leg.

The little guy was ecstatic.

The other kids knew he’d been away traveling. They’d missed him, and now they bombarded him with questions.

The teacher, seeing the children couldn’t focus, decided to hold a tea party—she had Xu Ziyan stand up front and recount his journey, answering questions as they came.

Xu Ziyan wasn’t shy at all—he spoke clearly, confidently, logically, weaving the stories he’d heard from Wang Yan and Gu Jia, plus what he’d learned from the tour guide, into captivating tales in his childlike voice.

The listening children were filled with envy. They’d traveled domestically and abroad too—but none had taken a twenty-day vacation to just play, like Xu Ziyan.

Xu Ziyan was the star, overjoyed, eager to share everything with his dad. He didn’t even look at Xu Huanshan—he hugged Wang Yan’s leg, looked up, and said: “Dad, let me tell you, today…”

Xu Huanshan remained crouched, arms outstretched, frozen. The crushing emptiness of such hopeful anticipation—especially between father and son—was unbearable.

He awkwardly lowered his arms, rubbed his stiff face, and interrupted Xu Ziyan’s boasting: “Ziyan, I see you’ve come.”

Hearing this, Xu Ziyan turned, surprised, then grinned and ran over to hug him: “Dad, why are you here?”

“What, are you surprised I came? Did you miss me?”

Xu Ziyan paused, then grinned: “Of course I missed you.”

Xu Huanshan clearly felt that pause. His heart churned with bitterness. This was his son—his own flesh and blood—and he had to think before saying he missed him?

Was Wang Yan brainwashing the child?

He quickly pulled Xu Ziyan aside and asked about his time with Wang Yan and Gu Jia—what they’d done, how they’d treated him.

Xu Ziyan lit up—he hadn’t finished boasting earlier, so he eagerly recounted everything. Bit by bit, Xu Huanshan understood: Wang Yan hadn’t done anything special. He himself, he admitted, had treated the child better.

But to Xu Ziyan, he was already irrelevant. The way he spoke—“my dad did this,” “my mom did that”—there was never “my dad you did this.”

Listening half-heartedly to the child’s childish words, memories surfaced, and sorrow welled up inside him.

Xu Ziyan chattered on, but soon noticed his father wasn’t responding.

He lost interest, suddenly deflated, and said irritably: “Dad, are you even listening?”

That snapped Xu Huanshan out of his gloom. He forced a smile and gave a thumbs-up: “Of course I am! You’re amazing—today was truly glorious.”

They exchanged a few more quiet words. Xu Huanshan said, “I’ll come see you again in a few days,” and, while he still had his wits, quickly pulled Lin Youyou away.

Though Xu Ziyan had seemed warm, Xu Huanshan, having raised him since birth, sensed a subtle distance in his tone.

How could he feel good? His ex-wife had left him, and now his own son was practically becoming Wang’s. He couldn’t stop it—and the feeling was unbearable.

In the car.

Lin Youyou had watched everything—she understood exactly what had happened.

It’s not just women—men need comfort too, especially when vulnerable. Lin Youyou was a professional.

She said to the slow-driving Xu Huanshan: “Huishan, don’t overthink it. If it’s that bad, we can just have another child.”

“Step on it. Let’s go home and get to work.”

Hearing this, Xu Huanshan perked up immediately.

One sentence was enough—he could comfort himself with fantasy. Lin Youyou’s words made sense: if it fails, I’ll have another. Besides, even if Wang Yan is powerful, Xu Ziyan is still my blood.

He’d never seriously considered having a child with Lin Youyou. After all, it takes two—and if she refused, he couldn’t force her. Plus, the current trend was late marriage and childlessness—some even chose DINK.

He figured he’d wait a few years—until she got bored and wanted a child. He could wait. He was thirty, in his prime, still able to fight for more, to leave his child something substantial.

“If you have a child, you’ll have your hands full. Are you really sure? No regrets?” He’d been a father—he knew what life with a child was like.

Nothing was better than a direct answer. Lin Youyou spoke earnestly: “Huishan, I love you. For you, I’ll do anything.”

Xu Huanshan immediately pressed the accelerator. The mood was perfect—he was eager too. He’d make a child and vent his frustration—all at once.

Wang Yan didn’t care about Xu Huanshan—he and his family happily drove off to pick up Gu Jia’s father.

On the way, Xu Ziyan chattered nonstop about his day. His biological father hadn’t been supportive—he’d seen the indifference. It was so disappointing. His real dad was the one who truly cheered him on.

They laughed and chatted as they picked up Gu Jinghong from the nursing home.

Along the way, Gu Jia gently guided the conversation, while Xu Ziyan played cute, keeping the mood lively.

Overall, the atmosphere was pleasant. They bought dinner on the way and returned home to Tianyue Mansion.

As soon as they arrived, Gu Jia rushed to cook—Xu Ziyan had been complaining. The nursing home was far from their home, and the round trip took a long time.

Xu Ziyan watched cartoons in the living room, chattering away. Now he was tired and hungry, slumped on the sofa waiting for food.

Only Wang Yan and Gu Jinghong, the father-in-law, remained.

Wang Yan brewed tea—this was from Hengshan Village. The old village chief had said it was the very best, absolutely rare, comparable to any famous tea.

Honestly, after years of drinking tea, Wang Yan still couldn’t tell the difference. National scholars and Daoist masters loved this ritual—they had the full gear, the most expensive tea, and even the water was transported by disciples from distant places.

But Wang Yan still couldn’t taste anything special. It was like calligraphy. Even though he was the money source, those old men didn’t coddle him—they’d curse him for drinking fine tea like an ox chewing peonies, wasting it.

Wang Yan humbly asked for advice. They’d say little—just throw a barrage of obscure terms, then tell him it was about feeling—you had to awaken it.

Wang Yan smiled politely on the surface. He awakened what? He knew they genuinely felt it—he genuinely couldn’t. Later, he learned to play along. His cultural literacy wasn’t bad. Everyone enjoyed pretending. He’d use fancy phrases too: “fragrant as orchid and cassia,” “taste like sweet dew,” “lingering aroma,” “rich fragrance,” “intoxicating scent,” and so on.

If you asked him what kind of tea it was? “Your humble servant is shallow and unworthy—could I humbly ask for your guidance?” That’s when the master’s urge to teach kicked in—he’d launch into a long lecture. Wang Yan would bow, eyes wide with gratitude: “Thank you, Master, I’ve learned so much.” The master, seeing a teachable pupil, would stop scolding. Everyone was happy.

By drinking so much tea, he memorized the flavors and could now identify famous teas at a sip.

After so many years, he’d gotten used to it—he just kept going this way.

The tea was ready. He poured a cup for Gu Jinghong: “Uncle, try this. It’s from Gu Jia’s tea factory.”

It wasn’t that Wang Yan was showing off—he genuinely couldn’t bring himself to call him “father.” Gu Jia and her father understood, so they just let it be.

Gu Jinghong took a sip and murmured: “Hmm, honestly, it’s better than what I buy at the supermarket.”

Wang Yan was speechless; he understood. There was a certain awkwardness between them, and Gu Jinghong was just humoring him to save face.

There was no point in pretending anymore—he might as well just speak plainly.

He knew Gu Jinghong was worried about his daughter, trying to use his life experience to judge whether Wang Yan was a reliable man. He understood—parents did this for their children.

Some might think it’s wrong for parents to meddle in their children’s lives under the guise of “doing what’s best.” But one should still show more understanding: aside from a few heartless exceptions, parents truly do act out of love for their children. They simply sometimes use the wrong methods—generational gaps are real. Between parents and children, how can anything be so simply right or wrong?

“Uncle, I know what you’re worried about. Didn’t Gu Jia tell you?”

Gu Jinghong was baffled. “What did Gu Jia tell me?”

Seeing his expression, Wang Yan understood and said: “Uncle, this apartment we’re standing in is under Gu Jia’s name. You know Junyue Fu—before, they lived on the twelfth floor. I had an apartment on the eighteenth floor, and I transferred it to her name too.”

Gu Jinghong gasped, nearly having a heart attack.

He knew how much Junyue Fu apartments cost. Though he hadn’t examined this one closely upon entering, he’d taken a quick look around. The renovation was refined, and with the location alone, he had a rough idea of its value. He’d been thinking: my daughter really knows how to pick—this kind of taste is clearly good enough.

Wang Yan had gone this far—he never expected it. What more proof could he need? He downed the tea in his cup at once to calm himself, steadying his wildly pounding heart.

“Haha, what worry? Such a big thing, and Gu Jia didn’t even tell me. You two just got married—I came over just to see how you’re doing.” Gu Jinghong chuckled awkwardly.

As long as Gu Jia was happy, he didn’t care how awkward he felt.

“Come on, drink your tea, this tea really is good.”

Seeing Gu Jinghong reach for the teapot to pour him more, Wang Yan quickly grabbed it and refilled both cups.

“I’ll prepare some for you later—I’ve got plenty of different teas, and you can help me check if any are fake. Oh, and I’ve also set aside a full tea set for you—I’ve got an extra one. Drink more often, since Gu Jia said your heart isn’t strong. I don’t know if tea helps, but it’s good for calming the mind and nurturing the spirit.”