The Precious Teahouse Read online

  “Why do you say sometimes?”

  Ziyu glanced at him with a sad smile and shrugged. “You’ll think me jaded if I answer your question, San Meor.”

  “You have to answer it now,” San insisted. Ziyu added him more tea and he suddenly realized that the taste had changed to a mellow addictive taste. It was better than the first sip he’d taken. “Please?”

  Ziyu chuckled. “I’ve read so many books, watched too many movies, and seen my sister marry. My childhood friends are all happy with families. I’ve always wondered why I can’t find the magic they seem to have found so easily. May be I’m not lucky like they are.”

  “May be you aren’t looking for love. If you tried, you might find it.”

  “Should we actively look for love or wait for it to come to us?” Ziyu asked.

  San paused in the act of sipping his tea. He’d never considered what kind of love he wanted. He’d spent his life perfecting the tea they were drinking and running his family’s tea farm in the highlands. Perhaps love was a subject left to poets.

  “I don’t know. It seems to work both ways,” San said thoughtfully.

  A soft knock came on the door, and a young woman peeped in with a small bow. “I’m sorry to disturb, but we have a customer asking for you, Ziyu.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Ziyu said and turned to him. “I’m truly sorry that you didn’t get to meet my father. You’d have liked him.”

  San glanced at his watch discretely. “Thank you for serving me tea, Ziyu.”

  Ziyu bowed and stood. San followed suit and allowed Ziyu to show him out of the small room. The kitchen was alive with activity; Chen seemed to be conducting an elaborate operation on different counters. San waved at her as he followed Ziyu.

  When they stepped out into the main hall, San was surprised to find the main dining room full of customers. Two hosts darted from table to table, taking orders. Ziyu’s determination to keep the teahouse open was definitely not out of madness.

  Ziyu stopped at the reception. “Please visit again,” he said formally.

  San gave him a short nod and hurried out of the teahouse. He was late for his next appointment, another teahouse in the next town.

  ******

  "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 teahouse 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. 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 his grandfather to sell at the teahouse. 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 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.

  A cheerful granny whose children were all away in the capital owned dong’s restaurant. San led him to a table in the back. There was no view but that was all right, 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.”

  ****

  The effect of tea is cooling.

  As a drink, it suits very well

  Persons of self-restraint and good conduct,

  When … depressed …

  One should drink tea only….”

  Lu Yu, Ch’a Ching, 780

  Four

  San Meor followed a silent Ziyu back to the Precious Teahouse. Ziyu hadn’t said much after he’d made his proposal. He figured it was because of the hard time the younger man had experienced in the bank. Matters of money were more tiring than a day spent digging the ground in a farm. He could only imagine the turmoil Ziyu was going through.

  Walking beside Ziyu, he took the opportunity to study the younger man. Ziyu was deep in thought, his face set in a far off expression. Even in deep thought, he realized he truly liked being in Ziyu’s company. It was calming, like his tea, Ziyu brought peace to him.

  His thought about the teahouse he’d visited after leaving the Precious Teahouse. It had been as ancient as the Precious Teahouse was, but lacking the same charm and fresh atmosphere. Ziyu was a calming host, while the lady he’d met the night before had made him grit his teeth with irritation. Unlike Ziyu, the young woman had recognized the value of his tea. She’d spent the rest of the thirty minutes he’d spent in her company asking if he could supply the Pu’er Tea to her teahouse.

  Great businesswoman, San thought with a sigh, terrible host and tea master. He’d left her teahouse feeling exhausted. She’d made the decision for him, he thought now as he strolled beside Ziyu.

  “You didn’t say anything to my proposal.” San bumped his shoulder with his. “You’re lost in your thoughts. I hope this is not how you walk on the streets.”

  Ziyu sighed. “Why would you offer to help me? What is in it for you?”

  “Can’t you trust me on face value?” San said and Ziyu stopped in the middle of the street to glare at him. He smiled and lifted his hands in apology. “I’m sorry; this is not the time to beat around the bush.”

  “I’m facing the worst, since my parents died.” Ziyu narrowed his gaze at him. “I’ve contemplated visiting a loan shark to save the Teahouse, but haven’t. Do you know why? Because I figure, living is better than running from those horrible people for the rest of my life. Then here you are, dangling a carrot to a starving rabbit. It’s not fair to make such declarations to a desperate man.”

  “And what kind of declarations should be given to a man?” San asked charmed by Ziyu’s angry face. He’d never met anyone this passionate …well…maybe his father. His father was passionate about his tea plants. He worried for the plants as he would his grandchild, always pampered and looked after.

  Ziyu looked around the street shaking his head. “Why did you really come to the Teahouse yesterday?”

  “I was dangling a carrot to a starving rabbit,” San replied slipping his hands into his trousers pockets.

  “Start making sense before I hit you in frustration San Meor. I don’t have time for cryptic remarks,” Ziyu warned, his brown eyes sparking rage.

  San inclined his head in apology. “Very well, I’ll tell you my story.”

  “How long is it?” Ziyu demanded glancing at his watch. “I’ve only got until we reach the Teahouse. If you don’t make sense by then, I’m going to insist you leave me alone.”

  “Suspicious much,” San said with a raised brow. Ziyu glared at him and he sighed. “Alright, you drive a hard bargain.”

  “Get talking,” Ziyu said as he started walking toward the Teahouse again.

  San placed a hand on his shoulder to slow him down. “You’re going to have to slow down. I can’t keep up with your race and tell you the story, Ziyu.”

  He hid a laugh when Ziyu gave an exasperated sigh and then slowed down. He was right about Ziyu, he decided. If the business didn’t grow as his father predicted, they’d at least have a good time together.

  Ziyu glanced at him expectantly and he cleared his throat.

  “Fine, as you know my father is Dahari Meor. He and your father were the best of friends when they were boys. Those days, my father’s parents lived here in the city of Hanou. Dahari and Tao Yin went to school together and played afterwards at your family’s teahouse. When my father turned fifteen, his parents decided to move back to Yunan to live with the family. Dahari knew it would take time before he was able to return to Hanou, so he and your father made a promise.”

  Ziyu slowed down and turned to look at him. “I read my father’s letters last night. I didn’t think much of that promise, but-

  “My father promised to bring your father the best Pu’er tea he could grow. Tao Yin promised my father tea soup painting.” San nodded with a small smile. “Yes, my father believes in that promise, Ziyu. That is why he sent me to your Teahouse. But, I’m not done with my tale.”

  San sighed, thinking of his arguments with his father a few months ago. Cars moved sedately on the street, he marveled at how quiet the small town seemed. He preferred this town than the Capital. Even the shops were charming, he thought as they passed a busy flower shop. He could imagine living here, and walking down the street with Ziyu by his side.

  “My father spent years on the family farm constantly trying to get the right blend of tea. There is a lot of competition in Yunan, as you well know. Each farm hopes to keep their secrets of tea growing. The farm consumed my father’s attentions so much, that he never had time for his family. His first concerns were always for the farm. When I finished high school and told my father I wanted to go to college, he got very upset with me. He wanted me to join him on the farm and continue the legacy, but I’m not a farmer. My passion lies in business.”

  “We had a terrible argument, but my mother managed to convince him to let me go. I spent four years away at school learning business. I returned home with very many ideas of selling father’s tea. He allowed me to market the daily farm yields, but one day when I visited the factory stores, I found one store he kept locked. When I insisted on finding out what was in the room, he produced one of the boxes I gave you yesterday.”

  “The Pu’er tea,” Ziyu said quietly.

  “Yes. My father had perfected the process before I went to college. When I insisted on leaving, he thought I was never going to return to the farm. He decided not to tell me about the Pu’er tea. When I asked why he was keeping it locked away, he sent me to find the Precious Teahouse and to keep his pro
mise. Angry with him, I told him before I found the Precious Teahouse; I’d visit all the teahouses I could and offer them the chance to try out the tea. The one that served me the best would be the one I’d choose to sell the Pu’er tea.”

  Ziyu stopped. They were a few feet away from the Precious Teahouse and San could see a few customers seated on the tables outside. It was a lovely afternoon to enjoy tea outside, he decided. Maybe after this he’d convince Ziyu to sit with him.

  “So, you were testing me yesterday,” Ziyu said turning to look at him with a blank expression.

  “Of all the tea houses I visited, you were the only one who didn’t ask if you could get more. I always left the other teahouses feeling exhausted. However, it was different when I left the Precious Teahouse. You were so charming,” San said with a smile.

  Ziyu frowned. “I gave you the courtesy I would have given to your father, San.”

  “As I’ve said before, your strongest point, Ziyu, is your sentiment. You’re holding on to the Teahouse not because it’s bringing you money but because of its history. I bet you hired all your employees according to sentiment too. Like Chen who your mother helped and whom you feel responsible for. You served me tea as you would an old friend. Your emotions rule your judgment, which is good, but it is also your weakness. You have no sense of business.”

  “What?” Ziyu glared at him. “I don’t have to listen to you, San Meor. Thank you for a detailed tale about nothing. I don’t need you-

  “Stop yelling,” San ordered. He stepped closer and placed his hands on Ziyu’s shoulders. “I like you the way you are. I’m not trying to insult you.”

  “Like me?” Ziyu demanded. “We only met yesterday.”

  “I feel a strong connection to you, Ziyu. I have no idea why, but, you fascinate me.” San met Ziyu’s brown eyes and smiled. “I want to help you, can’t you just let me?”

  “I have nothing to give back.” Ziyu shook his head his eyes sad. “This should not be a one-sided bargain. I can’t allow you to help the Teahouse without giving something back.”

  San studied Ziyu for a moment, the need to pull him into a comforting hug so strong. He cleared his throat and stepped back dropping his hands from Ziyu’s shoulders.

  “Ziyu,” he said quietly.