Chapter Fifty-One: The World’s Tea Garden

"So, you two want to go in, huh? Here, one for each of you," came a man's voice from behind.

Two red cards appeared before Zhang Qinglin's eyes. He glanced at the cards, which were embossed in gold with the words "Invitation" and "Tianxia Tea Garden Advanced Tea Art Competition." When the two of them turned around, they were surprised to see who was holding the invitations.

"Uncle!"

"Uncle, how did you follow us here?"

Zhang Qinglin eyed the invitation, reaching out to take it, but Bafang Tong’s lips curled into a sly smile as he pulled the cards back slightly and said, "The invitations aren’t free, you know."

"Uncle, that’s not right. You’re bargaining with us now? Tell us, where did you get these invitations? Don’t tell me you stole them!" Cheng Che eyed the invitations, then glanced at Bafang Tong.

Bafang Tong shot Cheng Che a look. "They're legitimate. If you don’t want them, I’ll leave. I’m still hungry, you know!" With that, he made to put the invitations away.

"What do we have to do to get the invitations?" Zhang Qinglin asked.

Bafang Tong smiled, shook his head, and leaned in close to Zhang Qinglin’s ear, whispering, "All you have to do is follow my instructions once you’re inside..."

As it turned out, Bafang Tong’s real name was Xu Bin, a local from Wuzhou and an old friend of Hu Yongxing, the owner of Tianxia Tea Garden. In their youth, the two had ventured into business together, sifted for gold, and even robbed tombs. They once unearthed an ancient tomb together in the Tengger Desert.

But by then, the Yanhu Archaeological Team had already arrived and started excavating. The team stayed in the desert for over half a year, and so did Xu Bin and Hu Yongxing. That’s when they met Zhang Chuyang, which explained why Xu Bin knew so much about Zhang Qinglin’s father.

Back then, they were caught with an artifact from the tomb. Hu Yongxing escaped with the artifact, while Xu Bin was caught. Luckily, Zhang Chuyang saved him, but Xu Bin still spent some time in detention. When he got out and looked for Hu Yongxing, his friend had vanished without a trace. Having been in detention, Xu Bin found obstacles everywhere he went.

Eventually, he found Hu Yongxing, who had already opened a thriving tea garden. Hu took Xu Bin in and gave him a job. Xu Bin had hoped to share in his brother’s fortune, but instead faced exclusion and slander, which planted seeds of resentment between them.

Now, Xu Bin wanted Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che to sabotage the tea art competition and ruin Hu Yongxing’s business. Xu Bin had discovered that Zhang Qinglin not only understood tea arts but was also connected to the Feiyu Project.

Competitions like these should have been open to the public. With the invitations, Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che entered the main hall, passed through the inner doors, and found themselves in a large auditorium with seating for fifty or sixty. The front rows were full, the back still empty—clearly, not everyone had arrived yet. On the red curtain behind the stage, the words "Third Tea Art Competition" were displayed in bold characters.

Zhang Qinglin scanned the seated audience but didn’t see Wanqing and her companions. He’d seen them enter earlier, but they weren’t in the hall now—had they simply vanished?

At that moment, a beautiful woman holding a microphone took the stage and began to speak. Two tables were brought up; the competition was about to begin.

Just as Zhang Qinglin was heading for the last row, he saw a man in a suit and hat enter, followed by another man carrying a bag. The latter held something in his hand. Neither spared the hall a glance but headed directly west.

There, surprisingly, was another door, its color nearly identical to the wall—no wonder Zhang Qinglin hadn’t noticed it before. He nudged Cheng Che, murmured, "This way, let’s go..." and the two made their way toward the door.

Beyond it stretched a long corridor, windowless and dimly lit by a few lamps, casting an oppressive gloom. At the end, it turned right and led to a stairwell descending underground, winding down the equivalent of three or four stories. At the bottom was another door, guarded by two stern-looking staff members who blocked their way and, in the same tone as those at the main entrance, asked for their invitations.

Zhang Qinglin handed over the invitations Xu Bin had given them. The staff examined them and asked, "Which group are you with? It doesn’t say here. Are you placing bets or collecting treasures?"

Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che exchanged glances. Clearing his throat, Zhang Qinglin replied, "We’re collecting, individually—not with any group."

The staff returned the invitations and nodded, then pushed open the door. Inside, one of the staff led them to a crowded queue, then left.

Zhang Qinglin surveyed this unusual venue. Unlike the hall above, the space was vast, ringed by two levels of partitioned rooms—over twenty in all—forming a circle. In the very center stood a long table of purple sandalwood, cordoned off by railings a meter away.

Most rooms were packed, with latecomers forced to stand. Scanning the second-floor rooms, Zhang Qinglin spotted Wanqing and Xun-ge, drinking tea together. Li Qingpeng was not with them.

He and Cheng Che found a concealed corner, eavesdropping on the people nearby.

Cheng Che nudged Zhang Qinglin, whispering, "Old Zhang, what’s this place? It’s livelier than upstairs. And those terms they used—placing bets, collecting treasures—sounds like gambling, doesn’t it?"

"I’m not sure either..." Zhang Qinglin replied softly, listening to the two men ahead as they discussed this special ‘Douchan’ event.

Officially, it was a contest of tea bowls, but in truth, it was a gambling den for treasures. Collectors paid to enter, while those placing bets couldn’t collect but could exchange their own treasures with others or wager them. The winners, however, always had to pay a hefty fee to Tianxia Tea Garden as a commission.

No matter what, Tianxia Tea Garden profited. Boss Hu was indeed a shrewd businessman.

Zhang Qinglin looked toward the central sandalwood table, where a middle-aged man in a traditional robe stood—square-faced, with piercing, energetic eyes: the look of a man born to wealth.

With a clasped-fist salute, he quieted the crowd and explained the rules: there would be two rounds.

The first round was for collecting. If you wanted to sell an item immediately, you placed it on the sandalwood table. Two professional appraisers would examine it. If it was fake, you’d be dismissed on the spot. If genuine, they would announce the lowest value, and collectors could bid. When no higher bids were made, the highest bidder acquired the item—much like an auction. But those in no hurry would wait for the second round.

The second round was gambling. There would be no appraisers; it was up to luck. Each pair of treasures would be matched against each other—comparing luster, color, quality, size—with a minimum bet of six hundred thousand, no upper limit. The item that attracted the larger pot would be declared the winner. In essence, it was a high-stakes underground gambling ring.

After the man finished, a tall woman in a cheongsam stepped up beside the sandalwood table, smiling gracefully. The collecting round began.

In the first round, items were registered and placed by the cheongsam-clad hostess onto a display stand on the table, then appraised.

"Wow, so many new faces today! Even Boss Hu's here personally. There must be some real treasures up for grabs..." the men in front of Zhang Qinglin whispered.

Zhang Qinglin looked across to the man in the middle of the front row, dressed in a Zhongshan suit, a cigarette dangling from his lips, eyes fixed on the appraisers’ hands. Behind him to the left sat Li Qingpeng, scholarly and refined in appearance, his gaze locked on Hu Yongxing.

The first collecting round ended with little excitement—most items were newly restored, fetching low prices. The morning passed without any remarkable finds; there were a few tea bowls, mostly Jian ware from Fujian.

Then, at the start of the gambling round, something unusual happened: among the many items on the sandalwood table, two were identical.

The event ground to a halt.

Ming Dynasty celadon ewers with twin handles and blue-and-white polychrome—a rare porcelain piece said to have been excavated from a kiln site in Changzhou. Only one intact example was believed to exist, the other having been unearthed broken beyond repair.

So one here must be a fake—or both.

The cheongsam hostess and the middle-aged man conferred, then called Hu Yongxing to the stage.

After inspecting the items, Hu declared both owners disqualified from the competition. Only then could the gambling continue. But naturally, the two protested, each claiming theirs was genuine. Others in the crowd joined the uproar, denouncing Hu’s judgment and the fairness of the rules...

Zhang Qinglin saw Li Qingpeng rise from his seat and head downstairs toward Wanqing and Xun-ge, nodding to them. They, too, got up and made their way down.

Zhang Qinglin immediately pulled Cheng Che to follow.

Suddenly, all the lights in the hall blazed on. Hu Yongxing stood on stage and roared, "Do you people have no sense of order? Who dares cause trouble here today? Step forward!"

His words silenced most, but a handful continued to shout.

Some even tried to snatch items from the table. The middle-aged man called the doormen for help, and a dozen more employees rushed in to restore order.

Zhang Qinglin saw Li Qingpeng and Wanqing reach the exit, only to find four or five men blocking the doorway. Hu had already ordered that no one was to leave.

Those who tried cursed his tyranny and scuffled with the guards. Amidst the chaos, Li Qingpeng and his group slipped out.

Zhang Qinglin hurried after them, but just as he reached the door, an employee grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. Cheng Che was pinned against the wall by another.

Zhang Qinglin twisted the attacker’s wrist, spun around, and kicked him hard in the groin. The man doubled over, clutching himself in pain.

Zhang Qinglin rushed to Cheng Che, shoved aside his assailant, and punched him in the face. "Go!" he shouted.

They fled the pandemonium of the underground hall, emerging to see Wanqing and the others already driving away.

"Over here—get in!" Xu Bin pulled up in his battered Santana at the tea garden entrance, waving them over.

Once in the car, Zhang Qinglin urged Xu Bin to follow Wanqing’s vehicle.

On the road, Zhang Qinglin asked Xu Bin how he happened to be there with a car, and how he knew they’d be coming out at that time.

Xu Bin chuckled, explaining that he’d bought the beat-up car a couple of years back for his frequent trips to Wuzhou—after all, he needed transportation. As for the competition and the underground gambling, he’d known about them all along. He’d seen Wanqing being tailed at the antique market and suspected something was afoot, figured they’d show up at Tianxia Tea Garden, so he’d brought the car over and waited outside after giving Zhang Qinglin the invitations.

"So, what happened in there? Sounded like the place was turned upside down, ha ha..." Xu Bin laughed as he drove.

"Uncle Xu, do you have people inside as well?" Zhang Qinglin asked.