The Precious Teahouse - 2. Chapter 2

"I am in no way

Interested in immortality,

But only in the taste of tea."

• Lu Tung

Three

Ziyu didn’t think about San Meor until after the tea house closed. He cleaned the tea tray he’d left and their cups. He carried the box San Meor had left and went upstairs to his apartment. A white fluffy cat met him at the door, meowing and rubbing against his trousers.

Closing the door, he headed into the kitchen to get the cat milk. Placing the box on the kitchen counter, he put milk in the cat’s bowl. He spilled a few drops on the counter and turned too fast hitting the box. It dropped into the sink with a loud thud.

Cursing under his breath, he put the bowl of milk on the floor for the cat first before he retrieved the box from the sink. The box had opened and as he picked the package of tea, a small folded paper fell out of the box.

The cat content, he leaned on the counter and unfolded the paper. It was handwritten, the ink old but readable. Turning over the paper, he wondered if San had meant to give him the note too.

“My oldest friend,” he read. “I look forward to your chabaixi when I fully understand the art of growing Pu’er.”

Ziyu stared at the note for a moment before he pushed off the counter. He left the kitchen, crossed the comfortable living area to the short hallway. He entered his bedroom and dropped the note on the neat bed.

He’d been in his last year of college when his parents died. He remembered coming home one semester and his father pushing him to practice his tea painting skills. They’d argued bitterly for two days until his mother had forced them to stop. He’d gone back to college a week after and his father had never brought up the subject again.

Opening his closet, he pulled out a large round box from the top and carried it to the bed. He placed the lid on the bed and paused for a moment staring at his parents’ documents. He’d packed them in the box and stuffed it high in the closet unable to go through them.

Ignoring the bundles of family pictures, he pushed them aside and dug out a bundle of old letters from the bottom of the box. They were all addressed to his father from old friends. Undoing the rubber band, he started sorting through them. He found fifteen letters from Dahari. They were in the middle of the bundle and he sat cross legged on his bed as he read them all.

According to the letters, his father and Dahari were childhood friends. Dahari’s parents owned a farm in the highland where they grew and processed tea, and would sell to Ziyu's grandfather to sell at the tea house. When Dahari turned fifteen, his father moved them back to their highland farm but not before Dahari promised his best friend a gift.

…Together, we’ll make the Precious Teahouse famous. Tao Yin’s chabaixi and Dahari’s mysteriously delicious Pu’er tea, we’ll be the talk for generations…

The last letter ended with Dahari promising to visit Tao Yin the year his parents died. Ziyu sighed and carefully folded the letters.

What a sad story, he thought.

The two friends had not fulfilled their promises. He wondered if he shouldn’t visit this Dahari Meor on behalf of his father. He returned the letters into the box and closed the lid. Carrying the box to his desk by the window, he promised himself to find time to go visit his father’s old friend. If only to thank him for the tea his son had brought.

San Meor, he smiled. He wondered if he’d get to see him again.

****

Ziyu spent the next morning at the bank talking to the bank manager. He left the bank at twelve o’clock with a big headache. The payments were behind and he’d almost used up the bank manager’s patience. If he didn’t find a way to make money soon they were doomed. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

He stopped at the curb and stared at the Chacha coffee house across the street. Dan Hao’s offer was starting to look attractive. His spirit sunk lower if that was even possible, he simply couldn’t imagine this day getting better.

“Can I buy you coffee?” San Meor interrupted his dejected thoughts.

He looked up to find San standing a few feet away. “Where did you come from?”

“I’ll answer any questions you have if you move away from the edge of the curb.”

Ziyu stared at him blankly confused. San took his hand and pulled him away from the curb. He blushed in embarrassment. “I wasn’t going to step out.”

San smiled and held on to his arm for a moment longer than was necessary.

“I’d love to buy you coffee.”

Ziyu’s gaze strayed to Chacha coffee and he shuddered. He’d vowed never to step into one of those, especially when Dan Hao was hounding him day and night.

“We can go to Dong’s restaurant down the street. I had lunch there yesterday, and they have very good coffee.”

Thank God. A caffeine infusion sounded good right now. He didn’t want to walk back to the Precious Teahouse just yet. Chen would be expecting good news and he had none.

San took his hand again and started leading the way. He followed in silence grateful to give up decision making for a while. He was so tired of fighting and holding on. He needed a miracle soon.

Dong’s restaurant was owned by a cheerful granny whose children were all away in the capital. San led him to a table in the back. There was no view but that was alright, he didn’t need a view right now. He sat in the chair across San and loosened his tie.

A cheerful young woman took their orders, and she returned very quickly with their coffee. San took the liberty of ordering him food.

Ziyu sipped his coffee grimacing for a moment unused to the taste. He rarely took coffee, too many years spent around tea. He reached for the sugar bowl and added two spoons.

“Sweet tooth,” he explained when he glanced up to find San watching him.

“Stress levels must be critical.” San teased him with a crooked smile. “Was the bank manager that difficult to deal with?”

Ziyu sipped his coffee and tried to relax. “I’ve used up my excuses with him.”

San watched him drink his coffee for a moment and then asked. “How long do you have before the bank takes the Teahouse?”

Ziyu closed his eyes and lowered his head. “He gave me until next month,” he said quietly.

They sat in silence drinking coffee until their waitress returned with their food. Stir-fried shrimp and steamed buns. Ziyu ate without thought, concentrating on the food and the too sweet coffee. San watched him silently until he sat back too full to eat more.

“Better?” San asked.

Ziyu sipped water from a glass and nodded. “I think I can face Chen now.”

“Chen?” San asked. “Do you mean the woman in the kitchen yesterday?”

“Yes.” Ziyu wiped his mouth with a napkin. “She’ll have to find a new job now.”

“How long has she been with you?”

“My mother hired her four years ago. She stays because she feels indebted to my mother who took her in.”

“There’s a lot of sentiment at the Precious Teahouse.” San leaned his elbows on the table and studied him. “I have a proposal for you, Ziyu Yin.”

Ziyu placed his napkin on the table. “What proposal?”

“I want to help you save your teahouse.”