151 The ticket of death (1/2)

Instead of driving me back to Vancouver, Papa 8's man drives all the way west from the farm. I didn't ask anything. I'm used to it anyway.

No matter Papa 8 or his staff, it seems that there are mysterious feelings about doing things. They won't tell you what to do in advance, but I know I'll always know when I get there.

We drive to the west for half a day, and finally we arrive at a small town near the beach. The car is driven all the way to a small pier near the town.

As we can see, this is a private yacht pier. There are many yachts, big and small, moored on both sides. The guard at the door stops our car. Papa 8's man shows a pass and the guard let us in.

This is a small port. There are three or four wharfs. I see some workers repairing yachts, and others are painting or doing maintenance.

Papa 8's man takes me all the way to an exit where a large white yacht is parked. The yacht has two hulls. The place where the yacht should be painted is empty. Two yellow men are carrying a large bucket of paint painting on the boat.

”Just go up.” He simply tells me.

When I get on the yacht and step into the cabin, I see Papa 8 with a slightly cold face. His eyes are deep and he seems to be thinking about a difficult problem. But when he sees me come in, he smiles a little, looks up at me. His face is still so calm and his tone is still very gentle: ”Chen Yang, you are back?”

”Yeah!”

I put down my bag and stand in front of him.

”Sit.”

I notice that there are several cups on the table in the cabin. Each cup contains residual tea, and even two cups have not eaten any drop of tea. Obviously, not long before I came here, there were many guests here.

He then fiddles with the tea set in front of him, acting like a running cloud, washing and pouring a cup of tea, hands to me. The expression on his face does not show any sadness or joy, just like a pool of calm water, the waves are not alarming.

I take the cup with both hands and take a sip.

”How's the taste?” He takes a look at me.

”Well, it's good!”

”You can taste it is good or not?”

”I can't” I smile mildly, ”To be honestly, I hardly know anything about tea ceremony. I can't tell the good or bad. I don't know much about tea either. But your tea must be good, that's it.”

He smiles and squints at me. ”You're honest.”

”No,” I say lightly, ”I can lie, too. There are few people in the world who don't tell lies. But I don't think it's necessary to lie about this.”

”You are a very good young man.” He smiles and says, ”I spoke to Old Cat and Konny on the phone just before you came. They all say you're good.”

I have no words and no expression on my face, just listen to him.

He sighs deeply: ”You're right. No one in the world will never lie for a lifetime. Actually, let me tell you a little secret...”

His hand sweeps falsely on the tea set in front of him, and laughs, ”This tea cup set is a high-end good, worth thousands of dollar, it's from a famous master's hand! This can of tea, more than one thousand dollar, is very expensive. Of course, it is very good. But to tell you the truth, I'm just like you. It's impossible to taste how good the tea is at all.” He laughs and says, ”Actually, in my mouth, it's similar to the big bowl of herbal tea I drank in the army long time ago.”