Chapter 196: An Sheng Can

"A Qing, that tea broth is cloudy—we really don't need to drink it, right? From my professional experience, tea this murky can only mean the sun-withering went wrong, or the pan-firing exploded."

"Exactly! Unless you blow up two roasting furnaces, you won't get tea this bad."

Facing the soup spoon A Qing offered, An Sheng launched into an unhesitating tirade.

Of course, though An Sheng cursed like this, he understood why this tea could be so terrible.

Those who spend big money to lease tea fields are either seasoned professionals or veteran tea drinkers—they may not understand the chemical formulas, microbiology, or plant-geography behind tea-making.

But at the very least, they know how to judge tea quality by taste.

If they know, why make it this bad?

The reason is simple: either they tried to use processing techniques to turn new tea into aged roasted tea—deeply charcoal-fired—but failed miserably.

Or they're pure scumbags who made a fragrant tea just for judges, trying to sneak it into a tea competition.

For tea like this, An Sheng didn't even have the urge to taste it.

【A Qing, quick, translate! What did Master Fox say?】

【From the vibe, it sounded pretty filthy.】

【That fox's expression is so human.】

As An Sheng started cursing, the livestream audience burst into laughter—nearly thirty thousand viewers had already seen Master Fox jump up, scowl, and rant with his little fox face scrunched up.

But this time, the little fox was slapping the tea table with his paw while yelling—the audience couldn't understand a word and desperately needed A Qing to translate what the fox was screaming.

Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!

We want to see Master Fox's latest review!

"Uh…"

A Qing looked at the flood of comments, her face flushed with embarrassment. "I can translate, but the livestream might get banned."

"Though An Sheng says a lot, his entire review of this tea boils down to two words: 'scumbag,' and 'may your sons be born without air valves, and your daughters attract yellow-haired bastards.'"

As A Qing translated the fox's rant to the livestream, she quietly tossed the plastic soup spoon into the trash bin provided by the event organizers—she had no intention of tasting it.

They'd already sampled over twenty teas; whenever An Sheng said a tea was bad, it was bad—and he usually gave objective reasons why the flavor was off.

But this time, the little fox didn't comment at all—just sniffed once, then launched a full-scale personal attack.

Under these circumstances, A Qing decisively and cleverly tossed the spoon full of tea broth away.

"Is it really that mysterious? I don't believe it!"

The tea competition wasn't as solemn as most imagined—in tasting sessions, official tea masters brewed tea at the table while tourists and tea lovers gathered around, sampled, exchanged opinions, and scored each numbered tea.

The tea masters brewed a dozen teas at once, and because An Sheng and A Qing were livestreaming, they got special attention and often tasted the freshest brews.

One tourist, skeptical, thought A Qing was just using the fox as a gimmick for promotion.

A fox drinks tea? Are you kidding?

You haven't even tasted it, yet you rashly declare this tea unworthy of drinking? Are you joking?

A girl who can't even understand tea bags dares to critique centuries-old oolong?

"."

The tea master glanced at the tourist, barely suppressing his rising smirk, steadied his composure, and elegantly handed him a disposable tasting spoon—the very tea An Sheng had trashed.

As a professional,

sometimes you don't need to taste tea to judge its quality.

You can evaluate it by the broth, aroma, and leaf base.

The leaf base of this tea had a slippery texture—clearly not the normal form of genuine tea leaves.

After half an hour of observation, the tea master was certain the little fox across from him was a Xia Dong breed—he truly understood tea.

"Slurp~"

The tourist brought the spoon to his lips, slurped the tea in, letting it roll over his tongue and back to perfectly savor the flavor.

"Huh!?"

The tea hit his throat—he froze, eyes widening as if shocked.

"Friend? What's with that expression?" The other tea lovers at the table, who'd heard the tourist challenge A Qing's review, stayed silent, waiting to hear his opinion.

But why was he staring blankly? What was the tea's flavor really like?

"Numb."

"Numb tongue? Aren't all aged oolongs…"

"My god, this shit tea is rotten!" The tourist's shock wasn't from how good it tasted—it was because he swallowed too fast, before his taste buds reacted. He was deeply, painfully sorry.

"Puke—"

"Ha!"

Seeing the tourist gagging, An Sheng chuckled, teasingly cooed: "Buddy, I can tell you're new to tea competitions. This is literally sifting gold from shit—don't put any beauty filters on tea, especially untested tea."

"See? You're so good you're digging your throat for more?"

The tourist was genuinely gagging—white porridge, pickled vegetable bits, and tiny shrimp splattered into the tea bucket.

He now deeply regretted not believing the streamer—why did he have to be a smartass and taste that tea?

Tea this terrible truly deserved the label "scumbag," or "may your sons be born without air valves."

"Uncle, you're really going all out."

A Qing, still shaken, glanced at the spoon she'd thrown in the trash.

As the stench of vomit spread, A Qing, who'd planned to keep tasting, had no choice but to leave early.

"Almost turned into a livestream disaster," A Qing said, holding An Sheng close, facing the viewers with a sigh. "I originally planned to taste our competition tea and recommend it to everyone."

"You all saw—every tea in the competition was repackaged uniformly. Only the tea farmers and makers could tell which was theirs."

"Huh? You ask how I know which one's ours? That's hard to explain—each tea has its own flavor. I've tasted ours, so I can tell."

A Qing explained to viewers, subtly promoting her own shop—Yin Fu Store. Our tea may not suit everyone's taste, but at least it's genuine.

"Hmm? A Qing, hold on—I think I just heard something familiar."

While A Qing livestreamed, An Sheng climbed onto her shoulder, swaying his head, making cute faces, and acting silly to keep the stream lively.

But as he shook his head, his sharp triangular ears caught faint, familiar sounds.

"How could I be a bad person? I just want to send my child to your kindergarten. If you agree to thirty thousand a week, we can go to the hospital for a checkup now—no issues, we'll pay daily, and I'll cover all meals and lodging."

Guided by An Sheng's pointing paw, A Qing slowly walked to the outer edge of the tea competition.

One glance—and she saw Yin Pengfei, who'd once been heartbroken over Mo Mo Ai and swore to jump into the sea, now hugging a qipao-clad tea master, grinning wickedly as if making some deal.

"Gah! What a scumbag!" A Qing gasped, instantly covering An Sheng's eyes. "An Sheng, don't look—you can't learn this stuff, or you'll turn into a little bad fox!"

"…………"

Across from them, Yin Pengfei clearly spotted Yu Xueqing holding her phone, with a fox perched on her shoulder.

Yin Pengfei stiffened, his eyes slowly widening.

(End of Chapter)