Chapter 1

“Lawyer He, we’ve known each other for years. The land dispute between Jiang’an Group and the tea plantation—”
“No comment.”
Atop the cliff, a handsome young man in a deep blue suit ended the call, cast a final glance at the mist swirling between the peaks, and turned to leave. Suddenly, a force struck him from behind.
Bang—
His body crashed into the slope of tea trees, branches and leaves thickly covering him. Blood trickled from his forehead, seeping into the crevices of rock and into the soil at the foot of the tea trees. His lips grew pale from blood loss.
Abruptly, mist rose among the green hills and clear waters. A barefoot youth in a long robe walked through the fields, his long hair tied behind his ear with a single tea leaf. He parted the foliage, bent down, and gently lifted the unconscious man, pressing his fingertips against the wound.
The bleeding stopped.
...
Wuyi, day of Awakening of Insects.
Every year, at this time, the mountain opens and the tea is worshipped. Bathed and fragrant, worshippers call to the tea god, shouting to the mountains: “Please sprout! Please sprout!”
Spring is bright this year; tea trees, please sprout. Old trees renew their branches, winds and rains are favorable.
In front of a small earthen building at the foot of the mountain, the sun lazily shone as a young man in blue clothes carried out a bamboo basket. Inside lay a tiny baby, face pressed against a buckwheat pillow, soft and round as a rice cake, lashes long and curled, sound asleep.
This youth was Bai Qingyu, tea god of this realm. He lifted the blanket, letting the warm sunlight fall gently on the baby’s cheeks and bottom.
This was his son, Bai Xiaochá.
Tea god cubs grow slower than humans; at two years old, he still spent much of his day sleeping, needing endless sunlight.
With divine powers waning in his generation, Bai Qingyu could no longer sustain himself in the divine realm, floating on clouds. He had to occasionally live among mortals.
He and his cub lodged in the home of Old Uncle Deng, whose family had worshipped the tea god for generations. Each generation, a mortal guide hosted the tea god during his time on earth. This time, it was Deng, childless, over sixty, living in poverty, and Bai Qingyu had to care for him.
Bai Qingyu, basking his son in the sun, sat on the threshold cracking sunflower seeds.
Uncle Deng, hard of hearing, shouted, “They’re worshipping the tea god out there. Aren’t you going to have a look?”
Bai Qingyu replied loudly, “No need.”
He’d seen it every year; nothing new. Besides, he’d already sprouted.
After sunbathing his son, Bai Qingyu carried him inside, eager to sit side by side with Uncle Deng on the bench to watch a period drama.
The television was loud, waking the tea baby in the basket. The little one opened round eyes, grabbed the basket’s edge, glanced at the TV, then looked at his grandpa and father, amusing himself by playing with his toes.
Bai Qingyu spared a glance, “Baby, do you want a cuddle?”
“Hug, please!” Bai Xiaochá responded enthusiastically.
Bai Qingyu cradled him, watching TV. In the drama, stepfather Old Wang and biological father Old Sun were fighting for custody; Bai Qingyu looked down at his obedient son.
Gods are proud. If a god bears a mortal’s child, her body erases all memory of the child’s father, severing ties to mortals. The divine heir needs no second parent.
Such was the ancient decree, leaving Bai Qingyu a forgetful, impoverished young tea god, with nearly no powers, while mortals invented the internet, submarines, airplanes, living better than immortals.
He only vaguely heard of such wonders from villagers; neither he nor Uncle Deng were interested. Their greatest pleasure was watching last century’s dramas together.
On TV, the custody battle raged; the child’s mother finally appeared, and the child escaped the struggle, flying into his mother’s arms. She gave him a peanut brittle.
Bai Xiaochá’s round eyes fixed on the TV, “Daddy, do I have a mommy?”
Bai Qingyu, unaware he’d lost his memories, scratched his head awkwardly. “I don’t know.”
Bai Xiaochá wasn’t bothered by the lack of answers. Leaning forward, he grabbed a fistful of air and stuffed it in his mouth, pretending to eat peanut brittle.
Foolish and adorable.
“Qingyu! Qingyu!” A woman in her twenties entered, carrying her two-year-old son. Seeing the show on TV, she asked Bai Qingyu, “How are you still watching this? Haven’t you seen it ten times?”
Bai Qingyu answered Zhang Xiujuan, “Because it’s good.”
Zhang Xiujuan had married in the city years ago; her husband was an English teacher. She often visited her parents’ home, giving her son room to play.
Coincidentally, Bai Qingyu’s powers could no longer maintain the divine realm, so he brought his cub to live at Uncle Deng’s house. The two, similar in age and both raising kids, soon became familiar.
Zhang Xiujuan grinned, tapping Bai Qingyu’s baby’s little fist. The child hadn’t been breastfed, and Bai Qingyu had no money for formula. It was a miracle he’d grown so well, and he was exceptionally handsome, considering Bai Qingyu himself was average and honest—a genetic lottery indeed.
Zhang Xiujuan shook her son’s hand, “Come, greet Uncle Bai.”
The boy said, “Uncle.”
Zhang Xiujuan, “Say hello to Uncle.”
The boy, “Hello, Uncle.”
Uncle Deng poured a cup of water for the boy, “City kids are different, they know English.”
The boy, “Thank you, cup is cup, tea is tea, and my English name is Mike.”
Uncle Deng was amused.
The boy looked at Bai Xiaochá, “Does little brother have an English name?”
Zhang Xiujuan was a bit embarrassed; she knew Bai Qingyu hadn’t studied much and likely wouldn’t give his child an English name. She was about to smooth things over when Bai Qingyu said, “He does, he’s called Teabao.”
Page 1/3

The boy nodded, half understanding, “Teabao, little brother.”
Zhang Xiujuan had come to say goodbye. “I’m sending my son to kindergarten, leaving this afternoon.”
Bai Qingyu was puzzled, “Do humans start kindergarten at two?”
“In the city, yes. I wanted him to play another year, but his dad insisted on starting with nursery class. If you start late, you fall behind. Even in summer he has to learn an instrument and a sport. Two is just the age to discover talent.”
Zhang Xiujuan said, “Education is so competitive now. If you get the chance, send your child to the city for kindergarten—us rural folk should work hard to give our kids a city start.”
Bai Qingyu pondered, “Is city life really that good?”
Zhang Xiujuan, “Of course! Education starts with the young. Two is crucial; send them to school, cultivate good habits that last a lifetime. Getting into college depends on this year. You know Zhang Wazi’s eldest grandson? At New Year he still followed the dog to pick up droppings, but after three months in city kindergarten, he knew to wash his hands before eating a biscuit yesterday.”
Bai Qingyu recalled the chubby boy with coal-black hands and feet. That’s quite a change—kindergarten is that magical?
Zhang Xiujuan herself had been laissez-faire, but her new outlook changed Bai Qingyu’s perspective, too.
Bai Qingyu, “Getting into college is important?”
Zhang Xiujuan, “Absolutely. Before college, the most important task is getting into college.”
Bai Qingyu thought of the drama he’d just watched—the plot revolved around bringing back college entrance exams, the protagonist overcoming all odds to take the test, and eventually living a good life.
In this era of waning divine power, the most he could do was solve minor troubles, but not earn money. He couldn’t stay in the divine realm forever. If Bai Xiaochá wanted a good life, aided by human technology, they couldn’t just stay in the countryside.
Meanwhile, after thirty years, tea garden soil loses fertility and tea quality declines. He should move Bai Xiaochá to other famous tea regions.
Bai Qingyu began seriously considering sending his son to city kindergarten, so he could go to university and find a job, living a good mortal life.
He acted at once, watching a drama about migrant workers moving to the city with Uncle Deng.
He summarized the key points:
First, everyone went to Nancheng to work, a major city.
Second, green trains are good for migrant workers; children ride free.
Third, he needed to find the labor market, where bosses recruit.
Fourth, jobs not requiring diplomas include nanny, sanitation worker, cleaner, security guard, cook, etc.
He could do any of them.
Bai Qingyu was confident he’d do well; city life meant quick money. “Uncle Deng, when I earn money, I’ll come back and build a big house.”
Uncle Deng, “I’ll be waiting.”
Uncle Deng wasn’t worried the tea god would be bullied in the city—after all, he was a deity. If he couldn’t win a fight, he could always disappear.
He went inside, lifted the straw mat from the bed, took out the cash they'd earned folding cartons together—over two thousand yuan—counted it in the light, “Going to Nancheng, right? I’ll ask Old Wang’s daughter-in-law to buy you a ticket on her phone.”
Uncle Deng counted a thousand yuan, stuffed it in his pocket, and went out.
Half an hour later, he returned, “This is Master Wang’s daughter-in-law’s second-hand phone, only three hundred yuan. Take it, you can call me.”
Bai Qingyu, using a smartphone for the first time, got a SIM card, called Uncle Deng’s old phone, and it worked fine.
He explored its features, finding many useful apps, while Uncle Deng busied himself preparing bedding for city work.
Uncle Deng packed eggs in a cooking oil bucket, layered with rice and eggs, “Little one needs one egg a day, remember.”
Bai Qingyu readily agreed, “Not one less.”
Three days later, loaded with bags and carrying Bai Xiaochá, Bai Qingyu took a ride to the train station.
“All bags must go through security, all bags must go through security…” The loudspeakers at the station repeated.
Bai Qingyu saw everyone putting their bags on the conveyor, so he lined up, placing his egg bucket and bedding, then took off his bamboo basket and set it down.
The staff was about to help him adjust the basket, but seeing its contents, their eyelid twitched. They quickly picked up the entire basket, relieved, “Children don’t need to go through security!”
This drew everyone’s attention. They craned their necks and saw, inside the bamboo basket lined with soft blankets, a baby leaning inside asleep.
The crowd erupted in discussion.
“There’s a child in there?”
“I thought it was local produce!”
“What kind of father is this—is this your kid? Children are most vulnerable to radiation.”
Bai Qingyu was tongue-tied, hands clasped as if he’d made a grave mistake. Couldn’t Bai Xiaochá be considered local produce? But the person ahead with a tea sapling still had to go through security, right? Bai Xiaochá was a tea sapling, too.
Was this a human privilege? Oh, right—half of Bai Xiaochá was human and didn’t need the conveyor.
The staff eyed the sleeping child, then Bai Qingyu with suspicion, “Is this your child?”
Bai Qingyu nodded, pulling out his household registration and ID. “Mine.”
He was on Uncle Deng’s household register—three generations. Bai Xiaochá was listed as only eighteen months old.
Tea saplings grow slowly at first; Bai Xiaochá was especially slow—at two and a half years, he was tiny and spoke slowly. Bai Qingyu had filled in his age as one year on the ID, to avoid suspicion of child neglect.
To avoid attracting attention, Bai Qingyu altered his appearance, making his refined features plain and flat, his skin darker. His powers only allowed him to change above the neck; below the neck, it couldn’t be described anyway.
Page 2/3

This way, he wouldn’t be tricked into nightclubs when looking for work, but it was troublesome—the father-son gap in appearance could raise suspicions of kidnapping.
Uncle Deng had prepared for this, having Bai Qingyu take many photos with Bai Xiaochá at home, father and son happily sunbathing together.
The staff checked the photos, saw the dilapidated earthen house in the background, Bai Qingyu’s clothes like hand-me-downs from three generations, army-green liberation shoes—everything screamed “first time in the city.” Understanding dawned, “First time through security? Remember, don’t put your child on the conveyor—dangerous.”
Bai Qingyu cradled his basket, meekly accepting the lesson, “I know my mistake.”
The commotion woke Bai Xiaochá. The little one gripped the basket, peering through a palm-sized gap to observe the staff. Pressing his face to the opening, he blinked at the uniformed worker, pleading for his father.
“Daddy knows his mistake. Please don’t arrest my daddy.”
Bai Xiaochá pitifully repeated his father’s words. Grandpa Deng had told him that when his father changed his appearance and became inconspicuous, his words might be overlooked. If his father couldn’t handle something or was embarrassed to speak, the baby should be his father’s echo.
“Auntie, my daddy knows his mistake.” The echo’s voice was slow and soft, even more childish and sincere.
Father and son wore identical “obedient” expressions, their likeness compensating for their lack of resemblance—clearly blood relatives.
The staff was instantly disarmed by the little one’s charm. “Go on, quickly.”
A helpful bystander said, “Follow me, I’ll take you to the ticket gate.”
Bai Qingyu shouldered his baby, left hand with the eggs, right with the bedding, “Thank you.”
Those heading to Nancheng by hard sleeper were much like Bai Qingyu—no trendy suitcases, only red buckets and woven bags. Sitting in the middle, he fit right in. The woman beside him, seeing Bai Xiaochá’s cuteness, gave him two big loquats.
“Auntie is so nice,” Bai Xiaochá said softly from the basket.
“Ah, you’re only one, and speak so well—such a clever baby.”
Bai Qingyu sheepishly rubbed Bai Xiaochá’s head. Actually, he was two years old.
At the station, advertisements for Wuyi rock tea were everywhere: Dahongpao, Water Immortal, Cassia.
“Red mountains and blue waters, floral fragrance and rocky bones.”
“Daddy, what does that mean?” Bai Xiaochá had seen the phrase many times today.
Rocky bones and floral fragrance describe the taste of rock tea—mineral and orchid-cassia aroma. Bai Qingyu, chin resting on his son’s head, improvised, “It means our bones are hard and our bodies smell nice.”
Bai Xiaochá squeezed his chubby arm, leaving a dimple, and declared, “Hard bones!”
Uncle Deng had bought excellent tickets: first three hours in a hard seat, next ten hours in a lower sleeper, last three hours back in a hard seat, maximizing savings.
Bai Qingyu took Bai Xiaochá out, packed the bedding and eggs in the basket, and placed it in the corner of the carriage.
He had a window seat, holding his son as they watched the scenery.
In the neighboring carriage, a child wailed heartbreakingly. Children’s cries are contagious; passengers eyed Bai Xiaochá, fearing he’d join in. But Bai Xiaochá was unmoved, as if he hadn’t heard.
In the south, hills rose and fell; the train passed through tunnels, light flickering. Bai Xiaochá stood on his father’s lap, face pressed to the window like a kitten watching fish, whispering, “Daddy, it’s dark.”
Bai Qingyu, “Yes, it’s dark.”
Pitch-black, the tea baby closed his eyes. Suddenly, light flashed.
“Daddy, it’s bright!”
It was bright. Tea babies need sunshine; his grape-like eyes shone with sunlight.
Light and darkness alternated, leaving the tea baby dizzy, collapsing into his father’s arms. How did the sun work? Was it tricking him?
Bai Qingyu patted his back. Playing with the sun, Bai Xiaochá grew sleepy, closing his eyes.
“Ah, he’s asleep already?” whispered a passenger, amazed at his sleepiness.
“Yes—”
Bai Qingyu was about to cover him with a jacket when the sound of food sellers came from the next carriage.
“Sunflower seeds, drinks, mineral water—”
“Milk tablets, free taste of milk tablets from the Hulunbuir grasslands—”
Sleep fled like a startled sparrow. Bai Xiaochá sat up in his father’s lap, silent, blinking slowly.
Milk tablets? What were they?
“Are they free?” Bai Qingyu muttered, opening the browser and typing “Are milk tablets free on trains?” He’d searched hundreds of city-living tips recently, getting better at typing.
[Answer: Not free, it’s sales promotion, but you can sample one for free, no need to buy.]
As he searched, the attendant approached with a bag of milk tablets. Bai Qingyu was still undecided about sampling without buying. But the little one in his arms echoed his words.
“Uncle, are they free?”
Bai Xiaochá looked up, his round eyes filled with all the concern a human child could muster.
Page 3/3