During the day, the Old Customers handed money to Nan Jiu, and Nan Qiaoyu snatched it away, chatting and laughing with the Tea Guests. Wu Aunty asked Nan Jiu to help bring some tea, but Nan Qiaoyu was the first to rush over and took the teacup from Wu Aunty’s hand.
The previous table of guests had just left, the tea tables hadn’t been cleared, and there was a pile of chores waiting, but Nan Qiaoyu didn’t notice any of it. Instead, he insisted on hovering right next to Nan Jiu, always wanting to be one step ahead of whatever she was doing.
Nan Jiu simply stopped doing anything and curled up behind the counter, scrolling on her phone. Nan Qiaoyu dragged a stool over and sat down beside her.
Nan Jiu gave him a tired glare.
“You’re like a dog’s sticky plaster.”
Nan Qiaoyu lowered his shoulders and leaned closer.
“Tell me, how much does the teahouse make in a day?”
Nan Jiu kept her head down, her voice cold.
“How should I know?”
“How do you not know? You’re the one holding the ledger.”
Nan Jiu could indeed see the ledger, but it only recorded the money from guests’ tea purchases.
The teahouse also earned profits from tea leaf sales, and only Nan Jiu’s Grandfather and Song Ting knew those figures. She had no intention of telling Nan Qiaoyu about that.
Seeing her refuse to speak, Nan Qiaoyu mocked, “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. You just want Grandpa to hand the teahouse over to you.”
Nan Jiu sneered.
“And you don’t?”
“I want it, of course. This is the Nan Family’s Property—it’s not for some outsider like you.”
Nan Jiu tossed her phone onto the counter, turning her gaze aside with a mocking glint in her eyes.
“Go tell Grandpa yourself.”
“No need. You’re going to get married anyway.”
Nan Jiu warned, “Don’t come at me with that gender bias. When it comes to dividing the family property, I won’t get a penny less than you.”
Nan Qiaoyu suddenly stood up, his shoulders tense.
“Your own parents don’t value you, so why do you act so crazy?”
Nan Qiaoyu usually had a sharp tongue, and Nan Jiu could usually put up with it. But this time, his words hit a sore spot. She grabbed the ledger and hurled it at him.
“Here! Take it! If you’re capable, keep it!”
Nan Qiaoyu clenched his fists. Nearby Tea Guests noticed the tension and looked over. Song Ting appeared behind Nan Jiu, his gaze sharp and cold as it locked onto Nan Qiaoyu.
The tension in Nan Qiaoyu’s fists slowly eased.
“Pick it up.”
Song Ting’s voice was low and commanding.
“It wasn’t me who threw it, whoever threw it can pick it up.”
Nan Qiaoyu said with disdain.
Nan Jiu turned back to sit on the chair, her thin brows knitting tightly together, lips stiff with tension. This had always been the way things were—when Nan Qiaoyu provoked her and she fought back, if any adult saw, she was the one who got scolded.
She sat rigidly, refusing to pick it up, as if whoever picked it up would be the one blamed.
“I told you to pick it up.”
Song Ting’s voice carried an unshakable pressure.
Nan Jiu’s lashes fluttered. Just as her eyes shifted to the ledger, she saw Nan Qiaoyu’s face darken as he bent down to pick it up and placed it on the counter, then ran upstairs.
Only then did Nan Jiu realize Song Ting had been speaking to Nan Qiaoyu.
Song Ting glanced upstairs and instructed Wu Aunty, “You keep an eye on them.”
Then he followed upstairs.
After Nan Jiu’s Grandfather came out of the kitchen, he learned the two kids had quarreled again. He walked up to Nan Jiu with a serious tone.
“Can’t you two just behave for once?”
Nan Jiu scoffed.
“If you gave him the teahouse, he’d behave.”
“What nonsense are you talking?”
Nan Jiu lifted her head, a crooked smirk on her lips.
“His mother’s afraid I’ll get something good from you, so she told him to keep an eye on me, right?”
“That’s not true, don’t guess wildly.”
Though Nan Jiu’s Grandfather said this, deep down he suspected what Nan Jiu said was pretty close to the truth.
After a while, Song Ting came downstairs, followed by the expressionless Nan Qiaoyu.
Since coming down from upstairs, Nan Qiaoyu hadn’t picked on Nan Jiu again. He did what needed doing. Even when blocking Nan Jiu’s way and getting yelled at with “Move,” he just glared back and stepped aside without retorting.
Nan Qiaoyu’s change made Nan Jiu suspect Song Ting must have beaten him into submission upstairs. Of course, this was just a guess.
Nan Qiaoyu showed no bruises, and Nan Jiu didn’t know how Song Ting managed to calm him down, but at least he finally stopped pestering her.
Before dinner, Nan Jiu went to the kitchen to bring out dishes. Song Ting was serving rice into bowls for everyone. Nan Jiu set down the dish she’d brought and leaned against the stove, watching his back.
“I thought you’d scold me, since I threw the ledger.”
“I saw he started it.”
Song Ting closed the rice cooker and picked up his bowl.
Nan Jiu’s emotions churned into a whirlpool, sinking further. Nan Qiaoyu was right—her parents had never valued her much. Aunt Qin could blindly protect her own son no matter what, but her parents never would.
To stop Aunt Qin from arguing with them, they even raised a hand and slapped her on the backside in front of the whole family.
Only her Grandfather mediated, but to him, both sides were family. He wouldn’t take sides, only trying to be fair—punishing and scolding both equally, even if Nan Qiaoyu was the one who started the trouble.
Nan Jiu’s throat tightened, a bitter sadness swinging inside her. Her gaze clung to Song Ting’s back. The safety he built was like sugar coated in arsenic—she knew it was poisonous, but couldn’t resist reaching out to touch it.
That evening’s meal was braised chicken. As soon as the dish was served, Nan Qiaoyu shamelessly grabbed a drumstick for himself.
After tossing the bones aside and still unsatisfied, he reached out again to grab the other drumstick since no one else had taken it. Song Ting pushed the plate aside, and Nan Qiaoyu’s chopsticks grasped nothing.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather scolded him.
“Can’t you let your sister have some? How did the family raise you?”
“She’s only two months younger than me, and you call her sister? I think she’s so fierce she wants to be my older sister.” Though he said this, he still moved his chopsticks and picked up some chicken breast.
Nan Jiu took the other drumstick and put it into her bowl.
“Thanks for letting me have it, good little brother.”
Nan Qiaoyu stuffed rice into his mouth with a sour look.
***
On the weekend, the teahouse received several waves of tourists. Outsiders found everything fascinating. Nan Jiu’s Grandfather, following the principle of treating every visitor as a guest, greeted them all with a smile.
During Sunday dinner, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather said, “Tomorrow’s not busy, I’ll go visit the Qin Family. He’s going into the hospital again.”
That was what he said, but early the next morning, all eight tea tables inside the teahouse were filled, and several people sat outside on bamboo chairs, waiting in line. Nan Jiu no longer curled up behind the counter; she took handwritten Number Tickets and went to the door to hand them out.
The Old Tiger Stove in the teahouse was now just decoration. Since young people had never seen one, they took pictures of everything in the teahouse.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather didn’t make it to the Qin Family that day. He was surrounded all day by a group of young people, taking photos with them like a mascot.
After closing, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather finally sensed something was off. He said to Song Ting, “Where did all these people come from?”
Song Ting took out his phone, opened a video, and handed it to Nan Jiu’s Grandfather.
Leaning back in his recliner, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather watched as soft ancient music played. The camera panned from the bricks of Hat Alley to the leaves, extending into the depths of the alley. The mysterious depth pulled the viewer’s gaze along the path until it settled on an aged Signboard.
The camera zoomed in and held steady. A bright sun slowly rose from behind the signboard, illuminating the “Hat Teahouse” plaque, shifting from shadow to light.
The sun climbed to the sky, then slowly set, cycling through dawn and dusk, through seasons. The Hat Teahouse was engraved into the flow of history, bathed by layers of light from different eras, still retaining its original form. Under the camera’s gaze, it became clearer and more profound.
The melody shifted, the camera continuously moved forward, framing all the scenes of the teahouse on a small screen.
The creaking bamboo chairs, the mist-shrouded Old Tiger Stove, the steaming Copper Teapot… The lively teahouse was like a microcosm of society, filled with all kinds of flavors—sweet, sour, bitter, and spicy.
The camera turned into flowing water, swirling into the covered bowl, blending with the tea leaves. The aroma lingered through the screen, reaching the nose.
This was a memory from Nan Jiu’s childhood, a recording of the teahouse’s lively heritage.
In the video’s final scene, the camera pulled back to show a man sitting by the bay window. His broad back was lonely, slender fingers holding a teacup.
Outside the window, the sun was setting. When the camera returned, the man had become an old man. His withered fingers repeatedly rubbed the cup’s edge. The small moments of life slipped away as the screen dimmed.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather stared at the screen, his gaze growing cloudy, as if seeing his own fleeting life through it. He handed the phone back to Song Ting and closed his eyes.
“Nan Jiu is almost twenty, and I still see her as a child.”
Song Ting smiled and put away the phone.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather slowly lifted his eyelids and glanced toward Nan Qiaoyu standing outside the door, laughing foolishly on the phone with someone. He sighed deeply.
***
The teahouse’s handwritten bills were kept for a time before being destroyed. Nan Jiu’s Grandfather told Nan Jiu to sort through the past bills.
All morning, Tea Guests came continuously. Some Old Customers eyed Nan Jiu behind the counter and asked Song Ting, “Is that Nan Lao’s granddaughter? She’s already so grown up?”
Song Ting glanced at her. Nan Jiu sat cross-legged inside the counter, flipping through the ledger. Her orange halter top outlined her clear collarbones and smooth shoulder lines. Her skin had a cool tone, and her platinum blonde side braid hung loosely over her shoulder.
His gaze lingered a moment before retracting.
“Yeah, a big girl now.”
When Nan Jiu’s Grandfather passed by the counter, he commented, “I saw those things you arranged.”
Nan Jiu raised her chin.
“And? Thinking of letting me inherit the teahouse?”
She glanced toward Nan Qiaoyu, who was goofing off in the distance, a smile spreading in her eyes.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather gave her a sidelong look.
“Young and ambitious,” he said before walking away.
While going through the old bills, Nan Jiu found that drinking tea brewed by Song Ting cost extra. She pulled out a bill and asked Wu Aunty, “Does the teahouse still offer this service?”
Wu Aunty peeked at the bill and replied, “Shop Manager Song has a Senior Tea Master Certificate.”
Nan Jiu laughed.
“What kind of senior certificate? How senior?”
“It’s a brewing certificate. He actually took an official exam.”
Nan Jiu realized, “A Senior Tea Master Certificate?”
“Right, something like that. But he’s usually busy. Unless friends ask or for guests, he rarely has time to sit down and brew tea.”
Nan Jiu put the bill away and smiled.
“There were only a few people in total. He’s the Shop Manager, Grandpa’s the boss, and Wu Aunty, what’s your position? Housekeeper?”
Wu Aunty waved her hand.
“Housekeeper nothing. I’m just a worker.”
After serving a round of tea, she wiped her hands and teased Nan Jiu, “Then what are you? A cadre?”
Nan Jiu held the stack of bills and replied without hesitation, “CFO. Chief Financial Officer.”
Wu Aunty laughed heartily. She didn’t understand all these official titles and thought it funny that Nan Jiu insisted on giving herself one.
Nan Jiu glanced at Nan Qiaoyu.
“He can only be a fisherman.”
Wu Aunty didn’t get it.
“Why’s that?”
“He only knows how to slack off.”
Wu Aunty and Nan Jiu both stared at Nan Qiaoyu, laughing. Nan Qiaoyu turned his gaze away and flipped Nan Jiu the middle finger.
After lunch, when the rush had died down, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather went back to his room to rest. Song Ting got a call and had to step out. To prevent the two youngsters from causing trouble while he was gone, he took Nan Qiaoyu along to run errands.
Not long after they left, three men arrived at the teahouse. The three sat down, their eyes scanning around before they looked up and examined the beams of the teahouse.
Wu Aunty handed them the tea menu. The man with a spiky front hairstyle was Li Wei. He babbled something foreign to Wu Aunty, who looked confused. Nan Jiu looked up from behind the counter, then stood and smoothly took the tea menu from Wu Aunty’s hand.
The three men’s gazes landed on Nan Jiu, measuring her back and forth. They exchanged a subtle glance.