Chapter Eight: Entangled in the Scheme

"This newcomer from the countryside isn’t familiar with etiquette. Please be understanding. Hurry upstairs—my cousin is waiting for you," Wanqing said quickly, tugging Cheng Che toward the second floor.

Cheng Che looked at Zhang Qinglin in confusion.

Zhang Qinglin shook his head. With just a few words from a beautiful woman, all troubles melted away. He followed them up the stairs.

As they reached the second floor, both men were taken aback. The decor was strikingly antique—finely carved bronze-brown doors and windows, a translucent screen painted with mountains and water, and behind the screen, an exquisite tea table.

Seated at the table was a short-haired woman whose elegance set her apart. Behind the tea table were two chairs and three pots of lucky bamboo; by the window stood a large, flourishing plant. Next to it, against the wall, was a half-moon antique shelf adorned with rare treasures, all of considerable value.

At that moment, Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che’s gazes landed on the same spot, then they exchanged a glance.

Yes, there it was—a Qianlong porcelain box.

"Wanqing, please bring your friends in," the woman at the tea table said gently.

Zhang Qinglin gave Cheng Che a subtle nod.

"Alright, I’ll stop here. Wanqing, you can let go of my hand now," Cheng Che said, noticing she was still holding him.

Wanqing paused, her cheeks instantly flushed as she let go, embarrassed.

"I’ll go prepare lunch for you," she said shyly, then turned and hurried downstairs.

"Please, have a seat," the woman said with a smile.

The two men walked around the translucent screen and approached the tea table, taking in her full presence. Though her face was oval, her features were striking—thick brows, bright eyes, a high nose, and a short, sea-buckthorn-colored hairstyle that lent her an air of capable beauty.

Zhang Qinglin glanced at the complete tea set before her and understood immediately.

She was clearly versed in the art of tea. With graceful precision, she rinsed each teaware with hot water, both for cleanliness and to preheat the vessels, ensuring the tea’s aroma would be at its best. Then she performed the "dragon entering the palace," placing tea leaves into the warmed teapot—a simple yet essential ritual.

Washing the tea, brewing, sealing the pot, dividing the tea into cups, pouring, and finally serving—each was a step in the ceremonial way of tea.

After pouring tea for them, the woman said, "Please sit. Allow me to introduce myself: my surname is Chen, given name Shengxiao. I’m Wanqing’s cousin. May I know your names?"

Once seated, Zhang Qinglin picked up his teacup, inhaled the fragrance, sipped, and said, "West Lake Dragon Well tea—one of China’s ten famous teas, named for the Longjing region near Hangzhou’s West Lake. ‘If West Lake could be compared to Xizi, then fine tea is like a beauty.’ Dragon Well refers to the place, the spring, and the tea itself. This tea has four perfections: green color, rich aroma, sweet taste, and beautiful shape. Superior Dragon Well is flat, smooth, and straight, with tender, glossy green leaves, a fresh, lofty fragrance, a brisk and mellow taste, and delicate, bud-like leaves. My name is Zhang Qinglin, and this is my friend Cheng Che."

After this introduction, Cheng Che watched as Zhang Qinglin drank the tea and rattled off a string of terms he didn’t understand. Though he often hung around Uncle Jiang’s teahouse and knew Dragon Well was a good tea, the finer points were lost on him. Having not drunk anything downstairs, he simply picked up his cup and downed the tea in one gulp.

"You’re quite knowledgeable about tea, Brother Qinglin. I wonder how much you know of its history?" Chen Shengxiao said naturally, lifting the teapot and refilling their cups.

Zhang Qinglin nodded in gratitude, his gaze steady on Chen Shengxiao. "I wouldn’t dare claim much—just a little superficial knowledge."

"You’re too modest. From your introduction to Dragon Well alone, I can tell it’s more than just a little. There are very few in Beijing who truly understand the art of tea," Chen Shengxiao replied.

As the conversation circled around tea culture, Cheng Che, bored out of his mind, stood and wandered over to the antique shelf to examine the old relics.

"My cousin’s recent encounter with those ruffians was only resolved thanks to your intervention, and I’m deeply grateful you recovered the Shangtang Eight Steeds painting as well," Chen Shengxiao said, lifting her teacup in respect.

Just as Cheng Che touched the Qianlong porcelain box, he straightened, glanced over, and slowly walked back to Zhang Qinglin’s side, thinking, Finally, we’re getting to the main point.

Chen Shengxiao gestured, and a servant waiting behind the screen stepped forward, opening a silver case before them.

With a wave of her hand, Chen Shengxiao dismissed the servant.

The case, packed with stacks of hundred-yuan bills, left Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che dumbfounded.

"Sister Xiao, this is too generous. We only did a small favor… but thank you!" Cheng Che’s eyes shone as he feigned humility, then promptly closed the case and picked it up.

Chen Shengxiao stood and walked toward the antique shelf, where a small table sat flanked by two chairs. She took a seat and said, "Since you’ve accepted the money, let’s discuss our future cooperation."

Zhang Qinglin had suspected as much. As the saying goes, when you take someone’s money, you help resolve their troubles. Chen Shengxiao had been probing him all along; this was clearly not just a gesture of thanks. He glanced at the case in Cheng Che’s hands, then abruptly stood and snatched it away. "Cooperation is unnecessary—"

Cheng Che was startled. What’s this guy doing? He’s giving up the money?

He leaned in to whisper, "Don’t be so hasty. You don’t even know what she wants. If you give it back now, what about the Qianlong box? Leave this to me…"

Cheng Che took the case from Zhang Qinglin, carried it to the table, set it down, and said, "May I ask, Sister Xiao, what kind of cooperation you have in mind? We need to make sure it’s all above board. If you’re asking us to break the law and end up behind bars, that wouldn’t do."

Chen Shengxiao couldn’t help but laugh. "You have quite the imagination. Why would I ask you to do anything illegal? This money is not only to thank you for helping my cousin, but also as funding for finding the genuine Shangtang Eight Steeds painting. I imagine you’ve already crossed paths with Master Zhao—he must know part of the Whisper Plan by now."

Both Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che were startled. So, she knew the painting Wanqing had was a fake, and hadn’t exposed them because of this plan?

"Master Zhao? Whisper Plan?" Zhang Qinglin asked.

"The Whisper Plan is a business secret, and there’s no need for you to know the details. Rest assured, we are all law-abiding citizens engaged in legitimate business competition. The money has all been taxed. Your only task is to find the real Shangtang Eight Steeds painting. Everything else is none of your concern," Chen Shengxiao said, sliding the case toward them.

Cheng Che pondered for a moment before replying, "Sister Xiao, we’re not that naïve. If you’re all so eager to get the real Shangtang Eight Steeds, it must be very important. If we find it and something happens to it, we won’t be responsible. And my friend here is rather stubborn—unless he gets something tangible, he won’t agree."