Chapter 245: This Time, It

"What?"

"Yu Xueqing, the Fox Master—this tea was hand-rolled by an iron wok by a top-tier master personally hired by Old Chen?"

After receiving Yu Xueqing's call and learning the full story, Chen Peipei's face fell, and she stepped quietly to her husband's side, whispering.

Upon hearing this, Yu Zhenghong's expression shifted several times, staring in disbelief at Chen Peipei.

"I didn't know about this at all! When our village submitted teas for the competition, we handed them all over to Old Chen, and he submitted them."

When he heard it was made by a master, Yu Zhenghong finally understood what the "Yu Xueqing Oolong" really was.

This tea was hand-roasted by a master, with full traceability and quality control from the fresh tea leaves onward—a competition-entry tea.

Simply put, the raw tea leaves for this tea might cost a few dozen yuan per jin on the market, but the labor cost alone could reach tens of thousands—its purpose was never for daily sale, but to win awards.

It was meant to bring fame to the tea fields and the tea farmers.

Without the goal of fame, ordinary tea leaves simply aren't worth summoning a master for—otherwise, they might not even recoup the labor cost.

This "master" isn't self-proclaimed; he holds an official national certification.

Someone Old Chen calls a master is at least a provincial or national-level senior craftsman.

"."

Nearby village committee members had also overheard Yu Zhenghong and his wife's conversation. The elderly village elder stared with dead fish eyes at Yu Zhenghong's stunned face.

"This—"

Yu Zhenghong's breath caught; he bent sharply and bowed deeply to the village committee and fellow villagers.

"I'm sorry! It's all my fault—I'm just a fool who messed things up. This year, I'll take full responsibility for cleaning the ancestral hall and organizing the Mid-Autumn feast!"

In village collective society, you help others, and others help you.

And you must also contribute to the collective.

Sometimes, whether the ancestral hall is clean has little to do with wealth—if the villagers are willing to work and organize, the hall stays spotless.

With Chen Nian's incident exposed, the old ancestral hall of Changxizhen could literally rise from the ground and get central air conditioning.

Otherwise, if you ruin the village's reputation without making proper contributions, don't expect to be buried back here.

…………

"Modern technology is really advanced—I'm two kilometers away and already getting a headache from this mess."

After arriving on site, Old Chen immediately organized the village committee staff to clarify the situation, then dispatched people to explain externally, and rushed over to the competition committee himself to set the record straight.

The competition committee would unseal records to check the winner's information.

But the details wouldn't be made public—they only needed to confirm whether the contestant followed the rules.

If compliant, they'd inform the villagers; after the public rating list was released, everyone could check for themselves.

The two rounds of rankings were for the award ceremony—then the records no longer needed sealing.

If rules were broken, handle it as required: issue fines, send offenders to the Public Security Bureau—no one, no matter who they were, could plead for leniency.

Though the village-level tea competition was county-level, the lead department was formed by the Department of Agriculture and other agencies.

By the time everything calmed down, it was already afternoon.

Yu Zhenghong, besides enduring the village's silent stares, was cornered by tea merchants, who trapped the dark-skinned, hardworking farmer in a market alley.

Yu Zhenghong trembled, facing these merchants who came to give him money, unable to utter a word.

He'd never tasted the Yu Xueqing Oolong, and since it was made by a master, he didn't even know its price.

"Anyone who wants to taste Yu Xueqing tea, come sit inside the village committee—everyone, make way," Old Chen said after finishing his duties, stepping in to rescue Yu Zhenghong.

It was normal for Yu Zhenghong to be surrounded by tea merchants.

Because they all assumed he was lying, bragging, trying to inflate the price.

In past years, winning teas followed the same formula.

Whether you could get the tea came down to price and attitude—push him into a corner, and negotiations could slowly begin, or drive the price down.

But this time, Yu Zhenghong was truly innocent.

He'd never tasted the tea—he wasn't bluffing.

He didn't know the price, and he dared not sell it.

If he sold a single jin and lost tens of thousands, he'd be left with nothing—not even his underwear, just his bare ass.

"Thanks, Old Chen—that was terrifying. I just thought I'd been transported to Bharat."

Yu Zhenghong wiped the sweat from his brow, his face still shaken but with a hint of lingering aftertaste, muttering.

He'd been surrounded by tea merchants!

In plain terms, they were all bringing him money!

In the past, Yu Zhenghong never dreamed of this—he was always one of the merchants, waving cash, rushing to pay tea farmers, never the other way around.

"You'll get used to it."

Old Chen looked at the fool and silently shook his head inside.

Others didn't know what a "master" meant—he knew exactly who the master was.

This year, Ah Hong's tea leaves were so low-quality, but Fuli Lao Ye still managed to salvage them, defeating serious competitors to win the top prize in his category.

Next year, as the tea bushes grow stronger, Ah Hong's tea leaf quality will only improve.

Fuli Lao Ye's own tea can be sold as premium-grade.

Mechanically produced tea with the same technique can be sold as mid- or low-grade based on leaf quality.

Thanks to Fuli Lao Ye's mature tea-making skills, Ah Hong's family will never lack high-, mid-, or low-grade tea.

His only job is to take Fuli Lao Ye's tea to competitions and build his reputation.

Old Chen had personally watched An Sheng arrive in the village.

Sometimes, thinking of Ah Hong's family, he couldn't help but sigh—fools have divine luck.

Ah Hong had no special talents—he was just honest. He always lent hands and strength for any family matter, and actively participated in village events, quietly and reliably.

After getting the tea fields, Old Chen thought Ah Hong would just endure these few years and live a full life.

But Fuli Lao Ye's arrival turned Ah Hong's full life into a starting point.

Tea fields, tea estates, livestreaming—all thriving.

If things keep going like this, Old Chen even worried Ah Hong might get so full of himself he'd go out to visit prostitutes and get arrested for fifteen days, then come home to be beaten to death by Chen Peipei's fists—Old Chen had no doubt about her strength.

"By the way, what did the village chief want with you? Can't be settling accounts already, can it?"

After exhaling, Yu Zhenghong looked at Old Chen with renewed anxiety.

"Settle accounts? You idiot—I already told you I registered three teas for you. You forgot everything after you sobered up! Come with me—go offer tea to the village elders and sincerely apologize."

Old Chen scolded: "Next time you have real business to discuss, quit the damn alcohol!"

"You nearly dragged out the Grand Elder—this whole mess…"

The Grand Elder of Changxizhen was a nearly hundred-year-old man, the most respected elder in the entire village.

He wore a faded green military uniform, his chest covered in medals thick enough to serve as bulletproof armor.

Whenever injustice struck the village, calling the Grand Elder out always worked.

Once he sat down, no matter who you were, you had to come respectfully offer tea.

The tea competition was manageable for villagers and organizers alike—but now that even the Grand Elder had been summoned, Old Chen's scalp prickled.

(End of Chapter)