Chapter 155: Are You Really That Kind of Con Artist Targeting Rich Widows?

"Shade-drying, cool-drying."

Old Chen was gone for an hour, not returning until nearly nine at night; by then, An Sheng had already processed nearly thirty jin of tea leaves, leaving only the final step: spreading them on bamboo trays and placing them in the constant-temperature, constant-humidity room for cool-drying.

Tea processing involves chemistry, and some unorthodox methods even touch nuclear physics.

But at the village-level competition, no one goes that far—An Sheng followed the procedures strictly.

He'd checked the research papers earlier because he'd forgotten the exact temperature and humidity settings for the constant-temperature room, and the detailed moisture content data for cool-drying.

With tea leaves this tender, like Yu Xueqing's, he wouldn't have bought them in his past life—he had zero experience handling them.

An old man's life is still a life; if he skimped on low-quality tea leaves, the tea-roasting old man would strangle An Sheng.

"Phew. Finally done."

An Sheng handled spreading the tea leaves; Old Chen carried them all to the tea racks inside the constant-temperature room.

Old Chen wiped sweat from his forehead and instinctively glanced at Master Fuli. He'd intended to give advice about cool-drying and withering, but after thinking it over, he swallowed his words.

Our Zhangxizhen's Three-Tailed Master Fuli—

Can wield a pistol on the mountain, and surf the internet from the ground.

Old Chen suspected Master Fuli had taken the graduate entrance exam; he just had no solid proof yet.

An Sheng didn't hesitate—he ran to the control room and adjusted the temperature and humidity of the constant-temperature room.

Over thirty jin of tea leaves had now completed all harvesting procedures.

"Let's go! Let's eat!"

Shade-drying usually takes ten to twenty hours; An Sheng had no patience to wait around. The little fox waved to Old Chen, signaling they should head out for dinner.

Old Chen understood Master Fuli's meaning and followed him back to the village.

"Master Fuli?"

Yu Zhenghong, who had been waiting at Old Chen's house, saw the little fox sitting in the electric scooter's basket and rushed forward in utter shock.

"Master Fuli! How could you sit in the basket? Didn't the basket dig into your little feet?"

Yu Zhenghong defied heaven and earth—but he bowed to Master Fuli, who understood tea plantations and livestreaming to attract customers.

Seeing Master Fuli in the basket, Yu Zhenghong panicked and hurriedly helped him out.

"Dig into my feet? There's padding under the basket," Old Chen muttered dryly. "By the way, is dinner ready? We're starving."

"Big fish, big meat, fine liquor—all there."

Yu Zhenghong spoke with full confidence, inviting Old Chen home to enjoy his home-cooked feast.

Over dinner, Yu Zhenghong and Old Chen talked about the tea competition.

The tea competition was no different from before: villages from the county battled it out, ranking first through fifth; the top three advanced to the four-county grand battle.

The city-level, provincial-level, and Two Gorges competitions are held in September, October, and November respectively.

This year's county-level village competition arena is right here in Zhangxizhen.

"Ahem."

During dinner, Yu Zhenghong naturally poured Old Chen a drink, but Old Chen waved it off, slipped mysteriously into his bedroom, and quietly pulled out several cards.

An Sheng and Yu Zhenghong stared, puzzled, at Old Chen, who looked like a thief.

"Later, when we pay, say it's your treat," Old Chen glanced toward his wife's room, then shoved the cards into Yu Zhenghong's hands.

"Don't misunderstand—these are all things I found while sweeping the floor at home."

As he said this, Old Chen couldn't help but sound slightly resigned.

He never accepted red envelopes, never sought political achievements or favors—he just wanted a comfortable retirement, then travel the Dajiangnanbei with his wife for a few years before returning to raise his grandchildren.

But the villagers who'd left Zhangxizhen long ago had too much influence; those who owed him fengshui favors, and their younger relatives, kept coming to him, calling him "old leader," "old chief," until he was practically numb.

Leader? He'd just been a common soldier in the army for a few years.

Every time those people visited, strange things would mysteriously appear in his house.

Sometimes, a whole crowd would come, and Old Chen didn't even know who left what.

He'd call to ask—and everyone claimed ignorance.

"What are these things?"

Yu Zhenghong pulled out the cards; An Sheng leaned in and saw the bold characters: 【Hailinglong VIP Card】.

Yu Zhenghong stared at Old Chen in shock.

Old Chen instinctively glanced sideways at Master Fuli, who'd earlier said he wanted a foot massage, then back at Yu Zhenghong, who was staring at him in disbelief. Old Chen spoke gravely:

"We each pay our own share, but use this discount card to settle the bill—Master Fuli's expenses are on me."

Master Fuli wanting a foot massage and back rub seemed perfectly normal to Old Chen.

Who doesn't go out to entertainment spots every day?

For Master Fuli, going there is probably like coming home.

"Fine."

Yu Zhenghong stared blankly, then took the keys and drove Old Chen and Master Fuli to the club.

"Chief, is Hailinglong legit? You've watched Peipei grow up—you know what position she held in the militia after her military service."

Looking at the gilded facade, the glittering neon sign, the hostesses' qipaos with slits nearly reaching their necks, Yu Zhenghong hesitated and asked Old Chen: "I can't handle a mortar shell."

"I don't know if it's legitimate or not—but your mindset is definitely not legitimate."

"Whether it's legit or not has nothing to do with us—we just go to the legitimate areas," Old Chen snapped at Yu Zhenghong.

"Do they serve foxes here?" An Sheng stared at the familiar entrance and sighed: "Too bad I didn't bring my old card—if I had, my old company-paid entertainment card would've made me an SVIP here."

In fact, Hailinglong did serve foxes.

People paid one price; foxes paid the same.

An Sheng knew the place better than the hostesses—he murmured softly, guiding Old Chen toward the third floor.

First floor: dining and drinking; second floor: private karaoke; third floor: foot baths and soaking.

Fourth floor: mahjong; fifth floor: massage—but An Sheng had never been to the fifth floor.

Not because he didn't want to—he just couldn't bring business clients there, could he?

Finance and marketing would hang him from the company ceiling.

"Ding—"

The elevator reached the third floor; the elevator doors opposite opened to the stairs leading to the fourth and fifth floors.

An Sheng saw the people inside and froze.

Yin Pengfei, who'd once claimed to be the first in Chancheng at romance and offered to be Mo Yiqing's dog, was right there in the elevator.

But Yin Pengfei didn't seem to notice An Sheng, accompanied by two middle-aged men.

He was on the phone, wearing a bathrobe, striding confidently across the carpet toward the third floor.

"Yes, Mom! You know Mo Yiqing's family runs a chemical plant—they've got mountains of gold!"

"She's seen every kind of glittering world; someone like Mo Yiqing, a top-tier rich beauty, needs patience and perseverance to win over—I've barely started."

"Forget that for now—transfer two hundred thousand to my bank card. I'm reserving a whole restaurant tomorrow to create a romantic encounter for Qingqing." Yin Pengfei spoke with full confidence, yet never slowed his pace as he walked toward the foot bath parlor.

"????"

An Sheng stared at Yin Pengfei, his ears filled with every word.

Mom! Dating budget running low! Send money now!

(End of Chapter)