Chapter 243: What? There

"Ying ying ying"

An Sheng jumped onto the bed, his face sour as he complained about Mo Yiqing: "What's with the face mask at this hour?"

Yu Xueqing wrapped herself in the blanket, peeked out from the edge of the bed to scan the room, then sighed slightly, wriggled back into place, and resolved to pretend nothing had happened—completely forgetting her embarrassing moment.

"."

Mo Yiqing and An Sheng exchanged glances; she immediately slapped a new face mask onto An Sheng's cheek.

"Don't talk. You've been sunbathing too long—just put this on and sleep quietly."

"Ying?"

An Sheng, wearing a face mask for the first time, was dazed—his mouth sealed shut by the mask.

Mo Yiqing knew Yu Xueqing was awake, but had no intention of letting her off.

On the bed, Yu Xueqing slept on the left, An Sheng in the middle, Mo Yiqing on the right—all three had face masks on their cheeks. Yu Xueqing blinked at the ceiling light, then closed her eyes without a word.

Hmm.

Tonight, I'm sleeping with the lights on.

What just happened was terrifying.

Mo Yiqing, lying on the right, had no intention of sleeping—she put her Bluetooth earphones back on and scrolled through a drama.

The little fox crept closer, glancing at the screen.

Mo Yiqing looked at the little fox, extended her arm, and pulled him into a tight hug, her hand resting on his belly.

"Ying?"

The little fox, who had been lying on his back, stared in shock at Mo Yiqing's hand as it reached for his double-breasted buttons.

The little fox wore a peculiar expression, quietly shifted his rump back beside Yu Xueqing, snuggled against her arm, and watched Mo Yiqing with wary eyes.

Warning! Once!

If you do it again, I'll unbutton you too.

…………

An Sheng fell asleep with his thigh draped over Yu Xueqing. As for his advancement to a four-tailed fox and his ability to speak—

He had no intention of telling Yu Xueqing—or anything related to spirit beasts—he wasn't ready to confess anything yet.

The logic was simple.

Just as An Sheng had once worked as a tea industry sales rep, he didn't want his own descendants to enter that field and witness how dazzling the crowd of elites could be.

With Yu Xueqing's talent, if she chose to explore spirit beasts and spirit grains, she'd be a top-class woodcutter.

What kind of people woodcutters were, An Sheng had seen—he'd even understated it calling them decisive and ruthless.

Aside from a few basic principles of stability, their methods were utterly ruthless.

They dealt only with evil beasts and traitors.

Woodcutters' importance was undeniable, and they deserved praise and recognition—but An Sheng didn't want Yu Xueqing anywhere near them, or associating with those people.

The woodcutters' achievements were unquestionable.

But who wants the people they care about to spend every day surrounded by violence and danger?

Yu Xueqing's livestreaming career was thriving; though their savings had gone into investing in the tea garden, their family tea house was still earning enough to sustain them—and with the Tea Duel Competition underway, Master Hu's tea-making would soon gain fame.

With An Sheng offering advice here and there, Yu Xueqing's family finances were soaring.

Rather than worrying about this, worrying about that, or fretting over the Longevity Club, it was better not to get involved at all.

His own wish-power accumulation rate was faster than the pace of their technological advancement anyway.

If they dared disturb his life, he'd shove an electric egg beater straight up their asses.

Let's see if their stubborn heads could withstand a stainless-steel egg beater better than their steel doors.

To An Sheng, Yu Xueqing was a warm home.

Home.

No need for grim, world-weary concerns—above them stood the Anquan Bureau woodcutters, below them he kept wide eyes open—how could anything go wrong?

Yu Xueqing was happy, he was happy, and they played together joyfully.

But the next morning, a sudden scream jolted An Sheng awake.

"What? Blackmail in the Tea Duel Competition?" Yu Xueqing, half-asleep, answered her father's call.

After listening to Yu Zhenghong's explanation, Yu Xueqing, who had been drowsy, froze in shock and sat bolt upright.

Unbeknownst to them, the Tea Duel Competition had already drawn near its end.

Last night, the official judges had released their scoring rankings.

As expected, Yu Xueqing's young tea sapling had achieved nothing remarkable—it didn't even make the rankings, barely receiving a consolation prize.

It placed forty-something out of over a hundred teas.

Forty-something was enough—in today's increasingly food-safety-conscious world, bearing the "Xia Dong Tea Duel Competition" label was equivalent to a certified safe-agricultural-product geographical indication.

But the uproar began the day after the rankings were published: the top-ranked Qingxiang Oolong had a name no one recognized. When tea merchants asked around, none had seen the winner.

When they asked the tea farmers, who were loyal customers, the farmers helped inquire—and the farmers exploded on the spot.

Because the top Qingxiang Oolong? The winner didn't exist.

Especially the sixth-place contestant in the Qingxiang Oolong category—his entire family and village erupted in protest.

Remember: the top five in any category received official titles.

Sixth place? No title.

Without that title, his Qingxiang Oolong could only carry the "participant" label—not "award winner"—severely damaging sales.

Now the competition site was in chaos.

The official organizers claimed all data had been sealed until the competition ended.

All they could access were the numbers and corresponding product names—no contestant identities.

From top to bottom, the scene was in disarray.

To prevent fixed prizes, officials had tightened secrecy at every level: contestants were anonymous, teas were repackaged uniformly, product names hidden, and only random codes displayed throughout the competition.

And yet, blackouts still occurred.

Without targeting the Tea Duel Competition officials, how could the county's tea farmers possibly stand down?

Yu Zhenghong called Yu Xueqing to ask her to come and lend moral support—to pressure the competition.

This matter must be handled fairly!

Expose that number one! Even if you truly won by merit, you're not a tea farmer from our county—why should you take our slot?

Find him!

Slap his smug face!

"Oh no, oh no—trouble! A fight's about to break out!" Yu Xueqing, realizing the gravity, leapt up and rushed to the competition site to prevent violence.

"What happened?" Mo Yiqing, still half-asleep with her cheek resting on the little fox's belly, asked Yu Xueqing as she changed clothes, her voice muffled.

"The Tea Duel Competition seems to have had a scandal—hundreds of tea farmers are gathering to riot, demanding answers."

Yu Xueqing hurriedly changed clothes: "The top-ranked 'Qing'an Oolong' might be from another county, trying to steal our slot. Prize slots are limited."

"I'm worried about my dad and mom getting hurt."

An Sheng froze, a look of astonishment spreading across his face: "Qing'an Qingxiang Oolong? That's the tea I submitted!"

"Wait a minute—"

"Old man organized people to storm the top Qingxiang Oolong?"

"Isn't that him storming himself? Does old man have a fetish for public exposure?"

An Sheng's eyes widened, letting out a startled "Ying!"

(End of chapter)