Chapter 1346: with translation of chapter title

Following Song Ying's car, we arrived at a winery in a villa area beside the airport expressway.

It mentions Song Ying. Also, 'winery' is not a proper noun, nor are 'airport expressway' and 'villa area'.

He said, 'Mostly foreigners live around here, so building the winery here could improve business.' After getting out of the car, Song Ying introduced.

Song Ying again.

"Song Manager, you're not doing this for business, just for connections, right?" Su Yun said.

"Not entirely." Song Ying laughed and said: "I myself like wine. With good wine, there always needs to be someone to appreciate it."

"That's true." Su Yun looked around and said: "It's said that a few years ago, on the high seas, several large ships took all the Lafite bottles collected domestically and abroad, had them canned directly, and then brought them back to sell."

Song Ying smiled but didn't respond.

"Song Manager, this business won't involve you, will it?" Su Yun, sensing something odd, asked.

"We're all our own people, so I won't hide it. I have a tiny share in that business, just a little." Song Ying laughed softly.

"……" Zheng Ren was stunned.

That's a money‑printing‑machine‑like business; although the pattern has long changed, counterfeit liquor still keeps appearing.

Recently there's a joke about exactly this kind of business.

It's said the price was mismarked—3000 per bottle labeled as 300, and instantly 2000 bottles were snatched away. The joke ends with a regretful tone, saying that after a morning's hustle, only 300,000 was earned.

This shows how huge the profits from counterfeit liquor are, shocking to the point of making one's hair stand on end.

This is a monopolized business; ordinary people can't get a foothold in it.

Song Ying looked at him—plain and unremarkable, usually low‑key—but at his age he could get into such a business… No wonder that day he laughed and said he was smoothing things for the short, chubby guy with a square face.

He really does have that capability.

Su Yun blinked slightly, then smiled: "Song Manager, from now on I'll come to you for drinks."

"Sure, sure." Song Ying ushered the few of them into the winery.

Besides the chef and waitstaff, there were no other guests, so the winery was quiet. The chef and waitstaff seemed to have been hired just now from other places, looking unfamiliar with the setting.

"Boss Zheng, no need for pleasantries," said Song Ying as he entered, smiling: "We're not going to a big restaurant—too flashy, too conspicuous."

"This place is quiet, nice." Zheng Ren was very pleased.

"Song Manager, on the way we were guessing what wine you'd serve." Su Yun scanned the wine rack; he knew a bit about wine, saw nothing expensive, guessed it might be in the underground cellar, and asked directly.

"1990 Romanée‑Conti."

"Boss, you really guessed right." Su Yun laughed: "Is it down there? Let's take a look first."

"Please." Song Ying made a graceful gesture and led Zheng Ren and Su Yun to the cellar.

The cellar was well kept; under the light, bottle after bottle with yellowed labels seemed to recount the vicissitudes of time and its sedimentation.

Deeper inside, dozens of oak barrels were stacked, making the area much larger than Zheng Ren had estimated.

"Robert Parker Jr. once said, Romanée‑Conti is a millionaire's wine, yet only billionaires can actually drink it. In fact it's not that exaggerated—it's just purer." Song Ying picked up a bottle, his fingertip lightly tracing the yellowed label, as if caressing a lover's hand.

"Romanée‑Conti is one of Burgundy's oldest estates; it seems to have been top‑tier wine since the 1760 classification." Although Zheng Ren had no interest in drinking, he didn't mind admiring the appearance of such top‑grade wine.

"After the Veauchi family declined, the estate passed to the Duke of Conti. The duke loved wine as if it were his destiny, even allowing the estate to use his surname." Song Ying's voice grew slightly heavy, echoing softly in the cellar, as if time itself were confiding.

"I'm saying, Song Manager, this wine looks…" Su Yun examined the bottle in Song Ying's hand, his forehead black hair swaying slightly, revealing a faint odd smile.

"Doctor Su, please go ahead." Song Ying also smiled; the two seemed to know what each other was thinking.

Zheng Ren grew curious and asked: "What riddle are you two playing?"

"Boss, at the Sotheby's auction on October 4, 2015, a lot of 114 bottles of Romanée‑Conti wine sold for a single‑lot price of up to 1.6 million USD, making it the most expensive wine ever."

"Oh, that's expensive." Zheng Ren had no concept of money; even 1.6 million USD in cash before him felt nothing, let alone turning it into wine.

One shouldn't dwell on this too much; thinking about it three times in a row brings on nausea. If he kept thinking, Zheng Ren had no doubt he'd vomit in the cellar.

Drinking is like riding a roller coaster.

Zheng Ren kept zoning out, trying to break free from this alcohol‑filled atmosphere.

"That works out to about 14,121 USD per bottle, 1,700 USD per glass." Su Yun laughed: "Song Manager, you couldn't have bought this, could you?"

"Back then the estate had just been finished; this wasn't about buying a few bottles to weigh down the cellar. Otherwise it would be empty, lacking both atmosphere and wine scent." Song Ying didn't hide it, saying it straight out.

"Tsk tsk, boss, a bottle costs over 100,000 RMB." Su Yun pulled out another bottle and examined it carefully.

Even holding 100,000 yuan in his hand, he wouldn't necessarily be this meticulous.

"It can't be measured by money." Song Ying, satisfied, put the wine back on the rack and smiled: "On a special day, entertaining special friends gives the Conti a unique meaning. It's like a car—just a means of transport; turning it into some symbolic meaning makes it boring."

"Mm, Song Manager, you're right." Facing the Romanée‑Conti wine, Su Yun became unusually gentle, his persona crumbling into pieces.

"That day Boss Meng drove his Aston Martin painted that weird color, so he could never fit into the circle." Song Ying said.

"Boss Zheng, we'll have seafood tonight; it should be about ready. Shall we go up and take a look?"

"Sure." Zheng Ren had no interest in wine; Su Yun was pacing beside the old oak barrels, and just from his back you could see he was drooling.

This time Song Ying didn't say to just open and drink freely; it looks like this cellar is his true love.

Calling Su Yun back, he turned back three steps at a time, whispering to Zheng Ren: "Boss, that side is all good wine—genuine oak barrels…"

"Doctor Su, great eyesight!" Song Ying gave a thumbs‑up, praising sincerely: "Can you tell which year these oak barrels are from?"

"From the grain, it's seventeenth‑century oak, but I can't tell the exact year."

Song Ying was stunned.

He never expected that the doctor from Hai Cheng, who now works at 912, could actually tell the age of the oak barrel.

Knowing Luo Manti·Kangdi amounts to nothing. For ordinary people, that's just fragmentary Knowledge. But few people can accurately tell real liquor from fake. Not to mention the storage containers.