Chapter 167: Lin Ying Returns

"Aqing, wake up! We need to go claim our spots!"

The night before the Tea Duel.

An Sheng, who usually didn't get home to sleep until three or four in the morning, broke his routine and stayed up all night; even before dawn, he lay on the bed, pressing his head against Aqing's waist and kicking his foot against Mo Yiqing's arm.

As the little fox let out a soft whimper and stretched its head and limbs, Yu Xueqing and Mo Yiqing gradually woke from sleep, staring blankly at the little fox sitting upright on the bed, chest puffed out.

"Based on my experience in the Tea Duel, we're already a bit late arriving at six-thirty," An Sheng said confidently, explaining to Yu Xueqing about the Tea Duel and related matters.

Although Aqing was a local, locals at the Tea Duel were still tourists; participants were all tea companies, tea factories, and tea farmers—only those who had truly gone through the process knew the inner workings.

"If we don't hurry and grab our spots, the places reserved for us locals will be gone!"

Mo Yiqing rubbed her foggy head, scratched the center of her chest where it had been stuffy all night, and said:

"... qing, what did the little fox say?"

"Little An says the villagers are rushing to the ancestral hall and tells us to hurry there too," Yu Xueqing explained to Mo Yiqing in her own words after carefully parsing the machine translation.

"Not the Chen Ancestral Hall! That's for burning incense and honoring ancestors—we can go there later. We need to prioritize claiming spots at the village committee!"

Under the guidance of the veteran An Sheng, Yu Xueqing and Mo Yiqing rummaged through the old house, pulling out red plastic chairs used during the New Year, and dragged out the folding tables children sat on during the holiday.

Yu Xueqing stacked a dozen red stools together, hugged them, and walked toward the door; Mo Yiqing carried the folding table.

The little fox, mouth clamped on a water flask, kicked a brass alcohol lamp base with its front paws, and walked straight out the door.

The two humans and the fox arrived at the Dodge Hellcat; Mo Yiqing opened the trunk and forcibly stuffed the dozen red stools, the folding table, the fox's water flask, and a set of white ceramic tea ware inside.

"Whoa—"

Seeing this scene, Yu Xueqing couldn't help exclaiming: "Mo Mo, your sports car is shattering my old stereotypes about sports cars."

Mo Yiqing shut the trunk, raised her hand, and casually slapped Yu Xueqing's butt, smiling as she walked toward the driver's seat, teasingly saying:

"Better not shake it up—it's just an American muscle car, not a real sports car."

"Besides, a big trunk is an American tradition—if the trunk weren't big, how would you join the daily gunfights and haul back the people's spoils from hunting and shootouts?"

Mo Yiqing's sarcasm left Yu Xueqing stunned.

As an American car owner, Mo Yiqing had always struggled to understand what such a huge trunk was even for.

Like her family's old Lincoln—it sacrificed rear seat space just for trunk room.

Though she owned an American car, that didn't stop her from mocking American designers' logic.

"Yeah! What even fits in a trunk?" said an Indian chief, scratching his head in confusion.

The American joke—classic, timeless.

………………

In Xiadong's cultural context, the Tea Duel wasn't a particularly grand event.

Tea dueling began in the Tang Dynasty, flourished in the Song, and originally served as an elegant pastime for the wealthy: participants brought their best tea, brewed it in turn, and judged quality by taste.

Today, the Tea Duel has become little more than a gathering for tea farmers, merchants, and enthusiasts.

Each year, the Xiadong region hosts seven or eight hundred Tea Duels, each organized independently by its major tea-producing areas.

Calling it a "duel" is misleading—it's really just a networking event. That's why the market is flooded with tea labeled "Champion of 【X】 Tea Duel," priced exorbitantly but tasting barely better than ordinary tea.

Because that's exactly what it is—some tea companies even host their own contests, act as judges and contestants, and artificially rank their own tea as first, second, third, fourth, fifth.

But this year's Tea Duel in Zhangxizhen was different.

It was an official competition.

Every tea entry had to meet national production standards, prioritizing safety before flavor or mouthfeel.

Judging was divided into two categories.

The first was by professional tea tasters, who evaluated tea brews stripped of all identifying labels, rated only by number, across multiple dimensions.

The second was public scoring: the same anonymous brews were presented to all visitors, who tasted and rated them to determine an overall score.

The grand prize winner typically received 30, 00 to 60, 00 yuan; second place, 20, 00 to 50, 00 yuan—the exact amount depended on sponsor investment.

【The Sixth Zhangxizhen Tea Duel】

【Sponsored by Lin Holdings Group, Jiule Energy Group, and Xin Hao Entertainment.】

Outside the village committee, banners fluttered, displaying official Tea Duel logos, along with others thanking the venue sponsor and financial backers.

The Zhangxizhen Village Committee's office wasn't built by Zhangxizhen itself—it merely rented a room inside a small agricultural market.

Of course, upon learning Zhangxizhen had won the right to host the Tea Duel, the market owner generously offered the space for free, along with cleaning services, for the villagers and committee to use.

The market was his, yes.

But the land belonged to the Zhangxizhen village collective.

No need to invoke social obligations—the market manager had already stepped forward, taking full charge.

"That annoying little leech is here again."

As the Dodge Hellcat pulled up to the gate, Yu Xueqing took her ID to the market's guard post to obtain a stall permit—without it, she couldn't set up her tea booth inside the market.

Inside the car, Mo Yiqing, glancing in the rearview mirror, immediately spotted a BMW X6 following behind—the driver was clearly Yin Pengfei.

Mo Yiqing's earlier cheer vanished, replaced by disgust, as if she'd stepped in shit.

To Mo Yiqing, Yin Pengfei wasn't just good or bad—he was a constant, unavoidable pain.

His presence was like menstrual cramps.

Women recoiled at the sight or sound of him.

"Don't worry! I'll just borrow a cactus from the market and jump up to stab his knee!" the little fox, nestled in Aqing's arms, continued.

"Besides, this guy is no good—he deceived his parents out of their life savings under the pretense of dating."

"I was so busy roasting tea I forgot to bring a cactus and whip his mouth earlier—he's showing up at the perfect time."

The Dodge Hellcat entered the agricultural market; behind it came the BMW SUV, and further back, a business car driven by Lin Shu—all three vehicles followed one another in line.

While Yu Xueqing and Mo Yiqing were setting up their booth in the exhibition area, An Sheng went to buy a cactus.

But—

He hadn't taken two steps before Lin Shu appeared before him: "Little Master Lin just landed by plane and would like you to join her for tea."

(End of Chapter)