Chapter 8
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After finishing the follow-up visit, He Ying said to Bai Qingyu at the door, “Were you about to go out just now? I can drive you.”
When He Ying wasn’t smiling, she was actually as unapproachable as He Renyuan, exuding a sharp aura. But in front of Bai Qingyu, she always wore a smile, afraid of frightening the little one.
Bai Qingyu replied, “I was planning to take Bai Xiaocha out for a casual stroll, see where we end up. No trouble for you.”
He didn’t tell the well-meaning He Ying that he intended to take Bai Xiaocha to find a suitable kindergarten; he preferred to handle things himself.
He Ying said, “Alright then, be careful and keep my number handy. Come home early.”
After watching He Ying drive away, Bai Qingyu cradled the little one, filled a large water bottle, grabbed the small cakes and snacks He Ying had bought, and set off.
The kindergarten, twelve kilometers away, required a subway ride followed by a bus transfer.
The subway was packed with no seats. Once aboard, someone offered their seat to Bai Qingyu and Bai Xiaocha.
“No, no, I’m fine standing,” Bai Qingyu said, holding onto the handrail and setting the little one down to stand steady by his leg. “See? This works.”
City workers each bore their own hardships. At least in terms of stamina, the tea god could keep up with humans and didn’t want to accept help just because of his small appearance.
The little tea baby clung like a barnacle to his father, shyly thanking the young lady who offered the seat: “Thank you, sister.”
[He’s so adorable.]
[I want to hold him, I could hold him all day.]
...
Upon leaving the subway station and about to transfer to the bus, Bai Qingyu spotted a job recruitment flyer in the basket of a shared bike by the station exit.
[Urgently hiring packaging workers from March 22 to 24. Piecework pay, no experience needed, daily earnings 200-300 yuan. Contact: 188****3. Location: Watermelon Logistics Park.]
Hmm?
Bai Qingyu picked up the flyer. Packaging work sounded simple; he could handle that.
Two to three hundred yuan a day for a part-time job was a rare opportunity. The bosses in his rural hometown paid elderly women only seventy yuan a day for contracting fields. If those women earned this wage, they’d be thrilled.
There was no reason not to take the job.
Besides, Bai Xiaocha’s kindergarten fees were ongoing; he needed to save more money. If he got fired, he still needed extra to cover tuition and rent.
“Baby, do you want to go to kindergarten or work in the factory?”
“Work—in—the—factory,” Bai Xiaocha chose the latter, not fully understanding either option.
“Alright, it’s just a three-day temporary job. Opportunity knocks but once. We’ll look for kindergarten again next week.”
Between school and factory work, father and son unanimously chose the factory.
Bai Qingyu immediately called the number on the flyer. “Hello, boss, are you still hiring?”
“Yes, just come over. Call me when you arrive at the gate.”
“Okay.”
He entered the address into the map app, boarded a bus accordingly, and arrived after an hour at 9:30 a.m.
The factory sold various utensils for eating rice, dazzling Bai Xiaocha.
“Daddy, such big bowls, such big spoons.”
This boss had an endless supply of spoons!
Bai Qingyu said, “I’ve never seen so many kinds of bowls either.”
The boss rushed to ship an order. Temporary workers had different tasks: some bagged items in clear plastic, others wrapped packages, and some threaded leather cords through the round holes in spoon handles and tied knots.
The boss was busy but said nothing about Bai Qingyu bringing a child. Since it was piecework, Bai Qingyu took on threading cords through spoons—five cents each, paid by quantity done.
A welded iron frame supported a six-square-meter workbench, surrounded by workers.
Bai Qingyu and the little one sat in a vacant spot. He brought over a box of spoons and a bag of leather cords, dumping some onto the table.
He planned to let his son nap on his back, but Bai Xiaocha insisted on helping.
So Bai Qingyu handed him some spoons and cords. “Baby, you thread the cords, I’ll tie the knots.”
“Okay!”
Adults could work on the bench, but Bai Xiaocha could only hold things in his hands. He shook his short legs and skillfully scooped a spoonful of air, bringing it smoothly to his mouth.
The baby was testing the taste of eating rice with this spoon.
Bai Qingyu quickly stopped him, “This spoon isn’t washed, no eating.”
“Oh, no eating.”
The spoon was very handy.
A woman across the table watched the whole scene, laughing heartily. She said to Bai Qingyu, “Your son is so funny.”
Bai Xiaocha laughed along, “I’m funny!”
They had arrived late; others had already piled their finished products high.
Bai Xiaocha looked around anxiously—if dad couldn’t earn money, that would be bad. He pursed his lips, pinched a cord, poked it two or three times, then threaded it through the hole. He slowed down, applying his prior experience from pretending to eat with the spoon, and got it right the first try.
He placed the threaded spoon on the table for dad to tie.
The two worked with full concentration. After an hour, Bai Qingyu bent down, took a water bottle from his bag, pulled out the straw, and said, “Baby, drink some water.”
Bai Xiaocha finished threading another cord, pushed the spoon slightly in, grabbed a new one, and kept working without looking up. “Baby doesn’t want to drink.”
If he drank water, he’d need to pee and dad would lose time catching up.
Bai Qingyu paused, sensing the serious expression on his tea baby seemed a bit boss-like, even somewhat familiar.
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Before today, he hadn’t noticed Bai Xiaocha’s latent workaholic tendencies.
Though Bai Qingyu was determined to earn money, he wasn’t obsessed—more curious about the various human jobs.
“Drink a little, this is honey water from Grandpa Butler.”
Honey water?!
Bai Xiaocha turned his face, eyes sparkling: “Daddy, then I’ll have a sip.”
Bai Qingyu’s mouth twitched; this two-year-old was easy to sway—just a sip of honey water and he yielded. Not like Young Master He, who required elaborate tea-making.
Bai Xiaocha took a big gulp. Bai Qingyu closed the bottle, then pulled out a small bun.
“Any kids want some?”
Bai Xiaocha: “Yes!”
Bai Qingyu took him to the stairwell to eat the bun. At that moment, his phone rang—it was Uncle Deng calling on the weekend for a video chat.
“Hello, Grandpa Deng!”
“Hello, Tea Baby! Have you eaten enough outside?”
“Yes, lots.”
“Where are you now?”
Bai Qingyu quickly put a finger to his lips and whispered to his son, “Don’t tell Grandpa we’re working.”
If Uncle Deng knew they sneaked into a factory on the weekend, he’d probably send all his retirement money.
Bai Xiaocha understood: “Grandpa, I’m playing outside.”
Seeing Bai Xiaocha hadn’t lost weight and even looked a bit chubbier after being away so long, Uncle Deng relaxed a little. “Qingyu, Qingming is coming. Remember to pick mugwort for Tea Baby’s green rice balls.”
Uncle Deng was a traditionalist. Bai Xiaocha followed him, eating green rice balls at Qingming, zongzi at Dragon Boat Festival, mooncakes at Mid-Autumn, tangyuan at Winter Solstice, and longevity noodles on New Year’s Day.
Bai Qingyu promised, “I’ll make sure he eats them.”
With that, Uncle Deng felt reassured, “I’ll hang up now. You’ll need data outside.”
Hearing green rice balls, Bai Xiaocha said, “Daddy, green rice balls are delicious.”
Bai Qingyu: “We’ll pick mugwort tomorrow.”
*
At this moment, in President He’s office.
“President He, Mr. Wang from Jin Jia is here.”
“Send him to the reception room.”
He Renyuan closed the folder on his desk, grabbed his suit jacket, and appeared in the reception room dressed sharply.
The secretary skillfully fetched Huangshan Maofeng tea from the cabinet. Mr. Wang smiled, “Why not try the tea I brought? Maybe you haven’t had it before.”
Never had it? He Renyuan wouldn’t have cared before, but now he was willing to try it—it might be better than Bai Qingyu’s tea.
He Renyuan raised an eyebrow and leaned back, implicitly allowing him to show it.
Mr. Wang signaled his secretary: “Go, make a pot of tea for President He.”
Mr. Wang’s secretary was male but handsome, with long, nimble hands handling the teacups. When handing the tea to He Renyuan, his left hand presented the cup while the right gently touched He Renyuan’s arm.
Before the touch, He Renyuan stood up with disgust, smiling faintly: “Thanks for your kindness, Mr. Wang, but this tea tastes like the tea my housekeeper uses for bathing. I think Mr. Wang has been deceived.”
Mr. Wang and his secretary’s faces darkened immediately. He Renyuan was too much—comparing the expensive tea he bought to bathwater? And the housekeeper’s tea at that? Damn, He Renyuan was impervious to flattery.
Mr. Wang felt like he’d been nailed to a chair, utterly miserable. Knowing He Renyuan, this wasted meeting meant no second chance.
He Renyuan said, “See them out.”
One reason he had grown numb to tea over the years: there was always some unworthy person trying to cozy up.
If they resorted to such underhanded tactics, it meant the contract was not what he wanted—no need for further negotiation.
He Renyuan strode out of the reception room, took off his expensive custom coat worth tens of thousands, and tossed it atop a trash bin.
That hateful housekeeper was made to look like an innocent little flower by these people.
*
“Dirty clothes can be washed at home. Baby, did you get burned?”
“No, Daddy.”
The factory owner provided lunch, ordering fast-food takeout for everyone.
The containers were soft plastic with four compartments; holding one side only, the other would tip.
Bai Xiaocha hadn’t held such a lunchbox before and accidentally spilled some oily eggplant stew onto his father’s leg while receiving the food.
Bai Qingyu wiped it with a napkin, opened the lid, and gave Bai Xiaocha a chopstick of eggplant: “Is it tasty?”
Bai Xiaocha: “Yummy.” Wherever there was a boss, there was free food. A boss was a good thing.
Father and son worked at the factory for nine full hours. At the end, the boss rounded up the pay to two hundred yuan and gifted Bai Xiaocha a set of chicken-wing wood spoons from large to small.
Bai Xiaocha treasured them, showing them off on the bus ride home. He pulled out a spoon with a deep groove, “Daddy, this one’s for porridge.”
“Daddy, this one’s for dry rice.”
“Daddy, this one’s for scooping apples.”
...
He assigned a use to each spoon. Leaning against his father’s chest, Bai Xiaocha fell asleep, clutching his rice-eating utensil kit tightly.
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The father and son took an hour-long bus ride home, arriving even later than He Renyuan.
He Renyuan didn’t see Bai Qingyu at dinner and frowned. “Where’s Bai Qingyu?”
There was only one residence in the southern city. Why was he not home so late?
The butler served the chairman’s sea urchin steamed egg dish. “Probably out playing. Everything’s so fresh and new to him here. This is the chairman’s sea urchin steamed egg.”
He Renyuan disinterestedly said, “I’m not eating.”
The butler tried to persuade him symbolically: “Madam said you should at least try a bit, or I’d have to tell a white lie.”
He Renyuan stood and returned to his room.
After a few steps, he said, “Call him. Deduct a day’s wages if he stays out late.”
“Butler: “Yes, yes.”
After bullying the housekeeper, He Renyuan finally felt somewhat relieved.
The butler promptly called Bai Qingyu: “Why aren’t you home yet? Have you eaten?”
Bai Qingyu: “Not yet. Save some leftovers.”
Butler: “Has Tea Baby eaten? Today’s sea urchin steamed egg.”
No wonder the chairman succeeded in business; knowing his cooking was average, he used top-quality ingredients. Sea urchin steamed egg required only washing the urchin and cracking an egg in.
The master enjoyed it comfortably; the baby ate with peace of mind.
Bai Qingyu answered honestly: “He sees food, so he should eat some. Is Young Master home?”
Butler: “In the study. Let’s enter through the back door.”
Speaking of which, the sun rose in the west—He Renyuan had come home three days in a row.
“I put the food on the table. Eat it when you come back,” the butler instructed. “Young Master asked me to get you custom work clothes. A tailor will measure you at 8 a.m. tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Bai Qingyu sneaked in through the back door again. This time, learning from experience, he didn’t use a tea box for Tea Baby’s things but a delivery box.
Passing the back door, he noticed a doghouse. He Renyuan didn’t keep a dog, so it hadn’t been used.
Good thing no dog.
“If we keep chickens here, it’d be perfect,” Bai Qingyu muttered to himself. Next time, he’d discuss it with He Renyuan.
Back on the third floor, Bai Qingyu bathed himself and Tea Baby, then went downstairs for the food.
Just as he brought the sea urchin steamed egg in, Bai Xiaocha, who had been playing hide-and-seek under the blanket, suddenly sat up and pulled the cover off his head.
The baby, dirty from factory work, was now clean, plump, soft, and warm.
Almost asleep, Bai Xiaocha patted his face, determined to keep playing hide-and-seek with Uncle Boss and not fall asleep.
“Daddy, spoons.” He had held wooden spoons all day but never eaten with them.
Bai Qingyu washed all the spoons for him.
The sea urchin steamed egg was served in the original sea urchin shell, prickly. Bai Qingyu wanted to scoop all into a bowl, but Bai Xiaocha, curious, insisted on eating right from the shell.
“Daddy, I don’t need help.” The rice-eating baby wasn’t afraid of the prickles; as if comparing models, he chose the spoon of the right size.
Living in the mountains, the tea god rarely ate seafood. Bai Xiaocha scooped a spoonful of the soft egg custard, blew hard on it, and the surface rippled like a lake.
He took a bite, tasting the smooth custard and fragrant sea urchin meat.
The hardworking boy just finished his dinner.
The capitalist worked in the study.
He Renyuan shut down his computer and glanced at the file rack opposite him. Some folders had been tampered with.
He had received an automatic message that his aunt entered his study this morning; it was not surprising the files were disturbed.
What was the purpose?
He called her bluntly, “Aunt, why did you touch my folders?”
He Ying: “A girl claiming to have your child asked me to intervene. I had to look for evidence and see if her story matches.”
He Renyuan’s gaze was calm: “Nonsense.”
He Ying sneered, “Right, I was joking. I just wanted to see how you were treated in Europe a year ago.”
He Renyuan: “Ineffective treatment.”
He Ying: “Poor thing.”
The conversation ended. He Renyuan opened a blank notebook.
For three years, he had kept a daily record of his schedule. But these past three days, either out of carelessness or deliberate avoidance, he hadn’t written anything.
His aunt’s reminder today told him not to change his habits for anyone.
He Renyuan picked up his pen.
A minute later, he put it down.
Ha, does he really want to document the days the housekeeper ruled over him?
That would be like nailing himself to the pillar of shame.