Chapter 1209 - 1206: Family Throne

Ansheng's face was full of question marks as he looked at Yu Zhenghong. With a pondering look, his gaze suddenly sharpened, and he raised his hand and slapped Old Deng's smug little face, grumbling:

"The fuck! I went out of my way to sign contracts and drag business back for you, and now you're telling me there's no stock?"

"If you can't get the very top batch, can't you get the next tier down—the ones with the geographical indication, the green organic label, and the intangible cultural heritage supervision? Thirty percent quality, seventy percent vibes, tack on some founding-father drama, spin a few little stories!"

"Give you a chance and you still can't make it work!"

Ansheng's face was full of bitter disappointment, like hating iron for not becoming steel. He chased after Old Deng, lifted his little fox paw, and whacked Old Deng's butt hard.

"Wah... Ah Qing, save me!" Seeing Master Fuli flying into a rage, Yu Zhenghong darted behind Ah Qing, face full of lingering fear as he looked to his daughter and asked:

"I can tell Master Fuli is basically just swearing nonstop right now. Skip the cursing and translate the guidance for me."

"Uh..."

Stuck between the Little Fox and her dad, Ah Qing looked awkwardly toward the courtyard at Sister Lin and the others, then turned back to her dad and explained:

"What Little Fox means is: foreigners have never drunk any of those core-mountain top-shelf teas. Anyway, those Brit goblins buy them back just to blend them into milk tea. Just give them a batch of core-mountain intangible-heritage hand-made tea..."

"The quality's a bit lower, yeah, but if you've got an intangible-heritage inheritor frying the tea, the tea's story can be traced all the way back to the Song dynasty. Foreigners love that kind of low-efficiency, luxury ghost-story stuff the most."

There's fakery in the tea industry every year, but what tea fears most is actually comparison.

Once an ordinary person has tasted a good tea of the same type, then in the next few weeks, if they drink a fake of the same type, even if they can't put it into words, they can still tell the difference in one sip.

But that still requires them to have drunk the good stuff first—like those meticulously crafted, famous special-grade teas.

Under normal circumstances, the gap isn't that huge. To truly bring out the flavor of a famous tea, different teas need different water sources, utensils, and even the Tea Master's brewing technique all have specific requirements.

That whole set of rules is like doing a chemistry experiment—you have to brew tea with a thermometer in one hand and a stopwatch in the other.

Otherwise, that's why people say brewing tea can cultivate the mind. Anyone even slightly impatient, with tea that costs a few thousand per tael, if you brew it wrong, it's ruined—no room for salvage at all.

"Oh right! We're selling to foreigners..." Yu Zhenghong's eyes lit up, and he slapped his thigh in regret.

Because of habitual thinking, the moment he heard there was a big order, he thought about maintaining a long-term relationship, which made him immediately think of the very top tea leaves and craftsmanship.

Two million-plus isn't exactly huge, and the mountain owners don't know whether the business will be stable or long-term. They can't cut into old customers' shares just for Yu Zhenghong's unstable business.

But since it's for export, then everything's negotiable.

In the overseas tea market, a kilo of Meizhan black tea that costs just over a thousand yuan here can sell for 50 dollars per ounce.

These teas that go for over ten thousand per kilo—overseas they'd go for at least four or five hundred dollars per ounce.

"Thank you, Master Fuli, for the wake-up call. I'll contact Master and Old Yang right now..."

After being smacked by Master Fuli, Yu Zhenghong suddenly felt the world open up; happily wagging his metaphorical tail, he ran to the corner by the offering table, pulled out his phone, and sent messages to "Master Fox" and Old Yang.

As soon as Yu Zhenghong's message went out, the phone in Lin Bingyun's arms chimed with a WeChat notification.

With a strange expression, Lin Bingyun pulled out her phone and glanced at the inquiry from Yu Zhenghong, then replied using the general template provided by Master Fuli.

Master Hu: [Grandpa is doing health maintenance at the club. Leave a message if you have tea-related questions. When he's back, he'll reply to everything in one go. (Don't ask whether he's there or not, just state your business. Grandpa's presbyopia is serious—if he misses words, consequences are on you.)]

Seeing this reply, Yu Zhenghong didn't feel anything was off. "Elder Hu" had always been like this—it was like he'd moved into the club permanently.

Whenever he had time, he'd video call.

"What? You got lost in Jiule City?" Yu Zhenghong called Yang Qingfeng. Old Yang's tea factory specialized in export orders and had plenty of budget for this.

But Old Yang's first line was that he'd gotten lost, which made Yu Zhenghong silently curse in his heart, "Fuck your mother."

Lost, my ass. From that joyful tone of his, it wasn't hard to tell he must've hooked a big fish—probably pushed the car he drove out to go fishing straight into the sea, then wandered around town, pretending to ask for directions just to show off his catch.

"Your Little Fox..."

Qiu Lingling gave Ah Qing a strange look, poked her, and quietly gave a big thumbs-up: "That imperial throne is rock solid."

"It might sound weird, but honestly, the Little Fox at our house has the broadest horizons. Whenever my dad's tea house gets new tea, he has to ask Little Fox's opinion..." Ah Qing scratched her head in embarrassment as she explained to everyone.

Some things just can't be argued logically. Within the tea evaluation system, Yu Zhenghong is an advanced tea taster.

To put it simply, he's like a senior technician.

But Little Fox's level is higher. The tasting experience he's accumulated could qualify him directly for a senior technician's certificate—the kind where the moment he graduates, the tea academy would hire him as a teacher.

"Honey, toss out the leftover salt-baked chicken from last night, dump it into our little white bowl at home. We're eating out tonight so we can nourish our family's Master Fuli!"

After hanging up, the first thing that popped into Yu Zhenghong's mind was Chen Peipei in the kitchen. He ran to the kitchen and announced loudly.

New Year's Eve dishes are lavish; the first day of the new year is usually for finishing leftovers because starting on the second day, you have to constantly visit relatives and friends.

If you can't finish the New Year's Eve dishes on the first day, you're going to suffer after the holidays.

But today, with joy in the house, every leftover and scrap was getting tossed. They were going straight to a big hotel to nourish Huhu!

"Huh?"

Busy in the kitchen, Chen Peipei looked completely lost as she watched Yu Zhenghong rush in, scoop her up, and start spinning her around. "What good fortune did we run into now?"

"Master Fuli has started to flex!" Face full of delight, Yu Zhenghong pulled Chen Peipei along to their room to change clothes.

Meanwhile, in the living room.

Having witnessed everything, Third Uncle Yu Zhengwen and Auntie Yu Jingwen each wore solemn expressions, sticks of sandalwood incense in hand, as they came before Master Fuli and bowed with all due ritual.

In matters of attracting wealth, Master Fuli's authority was absolute.

"No problem, no problem. I'll give you Granny Hedgehog's number later. You can source from her—low prices..."

Ansheng glanced at the Wish List, face full of glee as he told them the path to making money.

Third Uncle and Auntie's families were both in the electronics business in Lingnan. Official domestic stock is still stock; so why can't gray imports be stock? Break them down and sell as parts and the price is even higher.

At Yu Zhenghong's suggestion, everyone left the ancestral home together and headed to a high-end hotel for a meal.

Originally, with the last-minute booking, there shouldn't have been any seats, but once Lin Ying stepped in, yet another general manager got swept out the door by the staff, and the office got turned into a private room.

When the day's schedule finally ended and Ansheng returned from the hotel to the ancestral house, Lin Ying's family villa was blazing with lights. Another dozen or so multi-million luxury cars had appeared out front.

Old Li was probably still busy signing contracts.

The night passed in a blur.

After a whole day of running around, Ah Qing didn't have the energy to fuss over the Little Fox's beastman form. On the second day of the new year, she had to go with her parents to visit her maternal grandfather and needed to get up early.

"Ah—"

In the early morning, Ah Qing's shriek forcibly yanked the still-sleeping Ansheng out of his dreams.

"Ow... why are you grabbing my leg!" Ansheng sucked in a sharp breath and woke up, glaring irritably at Ah Qing, who was lying on her side on the bed with one leg raised high, her face filled with terror.

"Sep... separation anxiety. Toes that never moved out before suddenly triggered separation anxiety..."

Ah Qing, face full of panic, pointed at her raised leg, trembling as she spoke to the Little Fox.

Following her gesture, Ansheng saw that Ah Qing's foot was encased in a pair of split-toe stockings. Each of her five toes was separated, like they were about to pack up and leave home.

Normally, Ah Qing only wore cotton socks. This was her first time trying on the split-toe socks Momo had given her, and she froze on the spot.

Split-toe socks are good for sports; they reduce friction between toes and prevent calluses or chafing.

Momo has a habit of exercising and working out, and in daily life she always wears split-toe socks to keep her feet soft and white.

But Ah Qing had no such habit. After struggling to get them on, all the hairs on her body stood up. The silky feel of each toe having its own room made her feel like she'd suddenly developed separation anxiety out of thin air...

"..." With black lines all over his face, Ansheng looked at Ah Qing, who had collapsed onto the bed trying to take off her socks, and muttered:

"Nice legs, but I'm going back to sleep for ten more minutes!"