Chapter Thirty-Seven: Sandalwood and Agarwood

Sigh! Only someone as naive and sweet as Xiaoyu’s wife wouldn’t notice what was really going on. In the modern era, a scoundrel like Chen Liang would have been kicked out of bed by any girl in a heartbeat! Hmph! To be so skilled at this, he clearly isn’t a good person!

Just having a little fun to lift everyone’s spirits.

After all, his own wife wasn’t like those women on the fringes.

So, with Xiaoyu in his arms, he simply held her close and they both slept soundly through the night.

When she awoke, Xiaoyu’s wife opened her eyes to find Chen Liang gazing at her with burning intensity. He gently kissed her on the forehead. “It’s a wonderful feeling to wake up and see you right there.”

As Eileen Chang once so pointedly wrote, “The shortest path to a woman’s heart runs through her most intimate depths.” Now that the final barrier had been crossed, a woman would always let down her last guard for the man she’d lain with.

Xiaoyu’s wife gazed foolishly at Chen Liang’s handsome, masculine face, stretched out her arms, and wrapped them around his neck. “Me too. Marrying you has made me so happy.”

Love in this era was truly uncomplicated—nothing like in later times, where without money, cars, or houses, one wasn’t even deemed worthy of love.

“Time to get up, silly girl!” Chen Liang affectionately ruffled Xiaoyu’s hair, then climbed out of bed first.

In this bitter winter, to break free from the warmth of the covers at will—Chen Liang truly was a man among men!

Old Beijing in the early morning, though not yet plagued by the smog of later years, was still shrouded in a gentle mist, as if the whole city were cloaked in gauzy silk.

There were no such things as marriage leaves back then. Xiaoyu’s wife had already taken a day off yesterday; today, she still had to go to work.

But after her first night with a tireless man like Chen Liang, Xiaoyu’s wife could hardly move, so Chen Liang rode his newly purchased bicycle and took her to the library.

And he had to deliver the cigarettes he’d promised to Old Lu. Otherwise, if that old man got annoyed, he might just assign his beloved Xiaoyu to hard labor—how humiliating that would be!

Besides, it was only a packet of Huazi, and he had plenty of those from the supermarket—he could smoke them whenever he pleased! A real man doesn’t care!

Supporting Xiaoyu’s wife, who was struggling to walk, they happened to run into Old Lu on the stairs. Seeing his knowing, half-smiling eyes, Xiaoyu’s wife instantly flushed with embarrassment.

Embarrassed and a little annoyed, Xiaoyu’s wife pinched Chen Liang’s waist. Unbothered, Chen Liang simply scooped her up and, in a whirlwind, carried her up the stairs.

After setting her down, he turned to Old Lu. “What are you grinning at? Never seen young love before?”

Old Lu wasn’t offended. He just smiled benignly. “Ha! Kid, I’m old enough to have seen just about everything there is.”

“Yeah, right, you don’t know it all,” Chen Liang replied with a skeptical look, then pulled a packet of flower tea from his satchel for Xiaoyu’s wife to enjoy while reading.

With his wife on her way, Chen Liang patted his satchel. “Come on, I brought some top-grade Northern Min Oolong—let me show you what real tea is!”

Old Lu’s eyes sparkled. “Sure, but honestly, Southern Min Oolong is even better.”

“Wow, Old Lu, you know your oolong! But too bad, all I’ve got is this Northern Min.”

Once inside Old Lu’s office, Chen Liang wasted no time. He lit the small coal stove, set a little teapot on top, waited for the water to boil, then tossed in four or five oolong leaves.

After about a minute, Chen Liang lifted the teapot, took off the lid, and the rich aroma of oolong tea instantly filled the room.

He inhaled deeply, savoring the exquisite fragrance. It truly was top quality—no comparison.

He uncovered Old Lu’s teacup and poured it nearly three-quarters full. There’s a saying about tea: pour it seven parts full, leaving three parts for friendship. Fill it to the brim, and that’s an insult; only wine is poured to the brim as a sign of respect!

Old Lu gave Chen Liang an approving look—this kid had good manners.

Raising the cup, Old Lu blew gently, took a sip, and nodded in satisfaction. “Excellent—the taste is mellow and sweet, the aroma lingers on the palate. Fine tea!”

“How about it, Old Lu? Isn’t this Northern Min Oolong the very best?” Chen Liang boasted. “Let me tell you, Old Lu, you can’t just steep this kind of oolong. Its heavy fermentation needs to be released by boiling—otherwise, all that wonderful aroma is lost. If you just steep it, you’ll miss out entirely!”

Chen Liang rattled on, then tossed back the entire cup, closed his eyes, and savored the extraordinary flavor.

Old Lu, having been shown up first thing in the morning by a youngster, couldn’t stand for it. He pulled a small wooden box from his drawer.

Opening it, he took out a small, dark wooden block about the size of a child’s palm.

With a reluctant glance, Old Lu finally gritted his teeth, brought out a delicate incense burner, lit it, and placed the piece inside.

Chen Liang knew Old Lu was eager to compete, but he hadn’t expected him to go this far! Leaning in closer, he took a deep sniff—his eyes lit up in astonishment. He gave Old Lu a thumbs up. “Wow! Old Lu, you’re generous! That’s sandalwood agarwood!”

In his previous life, Chen Liang had gone undercover and risen to the top ranks of an overseas syndicate, but he’d never even seen such a large piece of sandalwood agarwood!

This stuff was truly precious—burn a piece, and there’s one less in the world. Old Lu was really going all out.

Old Lu, heart aching, forced a smile. “Not bad—you recognized it, so it wasn’t wasted on you.”

Chen Liang stared greedily at the little wooden box in Old Lu’s hand. “Mr. Lu, what do you say—ten cartons of Chunghwa cigarettes for that box?”

Just now, Chen Liang had glimpsed two or three more pieces of agarwood inside. Let them age for a few decades, and a single piece could be traded for a courtyard house.

In later years, the best agarwood was sold by the gram, like gold. What Old Lu had must weigh at least a pound or two.

“Ha! Now you call me Mr. Lu, huh? Why not earlier? All I heard was ‘Old Lu, Old Lu’ before,” Old Lu laughed, seeing that the agarwood had cowed the handsome young man before him. The pain in his heart eased a little.

“Mr. Lu, just give me a straight answer—will you let it go for ten cartons of Chunghwa?” Chen Liang really loved it. In his former life, after all the dirty money he’d made undercover, what he didn’t donate to charity, he spent collecting agarwood!

“Dream on, kid. Ten cartons of cigarettes for my treasure? Wash up and go to sleep—maybe you’ll persuade me in your dreams.”