Chương 25: Bull In A China Shop

Tea sounded like ambrosia from the gods right then. After sitting on the cold ground for an hour, trying my best to gaslight myself into believing I wouldn't end up as frozen Jack Nicholson from The Shining, real heat was the only thing that would revive me. It would warm me instantly from head to toe, no mind tricks necessary. We stepped into Mr. Cheng's small kitchen and I stood against the counter, pressing my frozen fingers into the inside of my sweater.

No need to sit down again for about a hundred years, or so my butt told me. Laushu took a copper kettle off the counter, the sound of water sloshing inside as he placed it on the stove, and clicked the flames on underneath. I stepped up behind him.

"Can I help?" He looked back at me as he began to open up cabinets and pulled out a tray with a dark brown, burnished, almost archaic-looking tea set.

"You can sit down. I will serve you tea. This is a very important part of the relationship between teacher and student. Traditionally you would serve, but because you do not know the way, I will. When you learn, then you can serve the tea. Now you will sit and watch." My eyes squinted at him and I pursed my lips.

"There's no way that I could just stand and drink tea? Because I think that part of me went into atrophy thirty minutes ago."

"You will live. The chair has a big cushion. Now sit down." The cushion was large. I watched the kettle with the blue and yellow flames waving under it, gingerly sitting forward to lean against the table.

"You know," I said, popping the knuckles in my fingers.

"I know how to make tea. Boil water, put in bag- it's not that hard." His back was turned to me, and I watched as the hand holding a spoon dropped to his side. He turned slowly towards me, staring from the corner of his eyes, with a look on his face like I'd just admitted I enjoyed eating yellow snow.

"Tea bags are for barbarians." He spoke in a choked voice.

"Tea is a pure food and you must honor it as such. Never speak those words to me again." Mr. Cheng set a tray on the table in front of me, still with that expression of deep betrayal on his face. His weathered fingers opened a small green box with ornate Chinese symbols painted in gold on it. Inside, tiny dried leaves as small as herbs lay in a heap, with the light, plant-like smell of green tea wafting from them.

He scooped some out with his copper spoon and put them into one of two tea pots on the tray, bringing his face down to take a deep breath through his nose. The smile on his face stretched wide like a child with candy.

"So those leaves are better than the box of Twinings I have at home?" The smile slipped from his face.

"These are green tea leaves from Zhejiang province. Now practice your breathing while we wait. The water is almost ready." I looked at the kettle. My microwave heated up the water much faster when I made tea, but to each their own, I guess. Soon the kettle began screaming out its steam, but apparently, there was a whole process after that. An infuser and a strainer had to be put on the tea pot– it was a big thing.

Then, with perfectly steady hands, my oh-so-wise teacher poured the tea all over the tray, splashing it all over the cups, the spoons, and even the little stone dragon that sat in the corner.

"Um, Mr. Cheng, are you sure you don't want me to pour? You spilled most of the tea and it looked like you were waterboarding that poor dragon." His sigh made him sound exhausted. I wasn't sure if it was physically, emotionally, or if he was just tired of me.

"Tea is important. We are washing the cups to prepare them. This will bring them up to temperature and allow my dragon to have a taste. Do not be greedy; he deserves his share." Mr. Cheng poured the water into the infuser and began the process again. This time, he poured the tea carefully into our two cups, steam rising gently from them. He lifted his tea up to his nose and breathed deep.

"Inhale the scent first, then drink." I raised the warm cup to my lips. The air rising from the deep green water held a strong dash of cut-grass to it, but it wasn't unpleasant. Tipping the china backward, I took a big gulp. The tea was tongue-burning hot so my throat immediately swallowed it down, but the remaining flavor lingered in my mouth. My tea at home was always slightly bitter, but this was almost sweet with a spring-like taste.

"Ai ya! Don't gulp it like that. Tea is not meant to be chugged like rice wine. Let the air enter your mouth as you sip the tea. It will cool it and allow you to enjoy it at the perfect temperature." Glancing down, I saw there was only about a tablespoon left of tea in my cup, having already downed most of it. I looked up at him again. Mr. Cheng began to pour us another round while mumbling under his breath. I didn't speak Mandarin, but I was pretty sure it translated as 'stupid foreigner'.

This time I raised my cup and took a deep breath, taking in the aroma, before drinking it with small, air-filled sips. The flavor from the first time had deepened. It matched the scent exactly: a thorough yet delicate freshness- the experience of sitting in a meadow distilled into a liquid. The softened sound of bells ringing from down the hall indicated that a new customer had come in, but I was almost convinced it was just part of the Tibetan temple ambience in my mouth.

"Mr. Cheng, this is amazing! I didn't know tea could taste this good." His chin raised into the air as he smiled and nodded.

"Maybe I do need to change up my process," I said, scratching at my chin thoughtfully.

"At home, I just boil the water in the microwave and put the tea bag in." The smile dropped as his mouth hung open and his hands fell to clench along the sides of the table. I just went from slurping pee snow to torturing puppies, according to his face.

"Wh- what did y-you say?" It stuttered from his throat in a hoarse voice. The sound of yelling echoed from the front of the store and we both turned to look. Laushu glanced back at me before saying, "You stay here. There are too many things I need to teach you, I know that now." He walked quickly out into the hallway, shaking his bald head. I sipped the rest of my tea, swishing it around and smacking my lips like people do with wine. Loud voices carried down the corridor: a woman's, a deep-voiced man's, and Mr.

Cheng's and none of them sounded happy. My feet tiptoed to the front, staying quiet in the shadows. A big guy in a black leather jacket and fedora stood at the counter, beefy arms planted on the countertop. Mr. Cheng and his receptionist stood on the other side.

"Look, you got a beautiful set up here, Cheng. You're already importing plenty of things from faraway places. How about you import a few things for us, eh? I'll make it worth your while." Laushu had his most polite, most Chinese smile on his face, holding up a hand to the man.

"Honored sir, we appreciate your offer of business, but we cannot accept it. We are such a small shop, what you need is a much bigger store- they will be able to accommodate your needs." The man leaned forward, the glass display underneath him straining under the weight of his chest and arms. He was ripped- a living, breathing Hulk, just without the absinthe-colored skin. But probably the same anger issues. Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

He grinned, showing a few gold teeth.

"See, that's exactly why we're interested. The boss wants to keep things small, quiet, and niche. And he says you're the man for the job." Mr. Cheng smiled and spread his arms.

"I am just a simple acupuncturist. The only job I am suited for is releasing the blocked chi in your neck and lower spine. Your back must really hurt when you sit down." The thug, who didn't appear to have a neck at all, took a step away from the counter and winced as he stood up straight.

"How did you know about my back?"

"Just a simple observation and a lifetime of experience. I can help you with the pain, but I'm afraid I must decline your employer's generous offer." Fedora pointed a thick finger at the pair of them.

"The Alchemist said don't take no for an answer. If you're too stupid to take the money, then maybe your pretty little receptionist can take a drive with me. Maybe then you'll change your mind." The smile slipped from Mr. Cheng's face like it had never been there.

"You have poor manners. First, you interrupted my tea ceremony and now you threaten my employee." He stepped around the counter to stand in front of the man, the top of his head only coming up to Luca Brazzi's bulging pectorals.

"It is time for you to leave."

"I don't think you understand the situation here, little man." He reached out to grab Laushu's arm, except something went wrong. Mr. Cheng flowed closer to him, that was the only way to describe it. He lowered his body and swung his arms forward and away and suddenly the brick in a leather jacket was flipping through the air to land directly on his back. The floor shook like an earthquake with how hard he landed. Mr. Cheng's polite smile was back.

"Your balance is all wrong. It is probably why your back hurts you so much." The goon scrambled to his feet and took a swing. It was a wild haymaker that would have Laushu's head flying from his shoulders if it landed. It didn't. Mr. Cheng bent like a reed in the wind and let the punch fly past him, then his hand weaved snake-like through the air to strike the goon's shoulder. Leather Jacket's arm went limp and swung uselessly at his side, just like mine yesterday.

He looked down at it, extra-large eyes popping wide, and then stared at his small opponent in shock.

"Don't worry, it will be fine in a few hours," Mr. Cheng said, face still serene.

"I'm more concerned about your spine. Your meridians are in worse shape than I thought." The Hulk glared at him, pulled an inhaler from his pocket, and took a long hit from it. Then things got weird. He ripped his jacket off and started yelling like an anime character powering up- but that wasn't the strange part. The weird part was that it seemed to be working. I'd lived in the city my whole life; people randomly screaming out their rage in front of others was not uncommon.

But suddenly bulking up because of it was. His hair didn't suddenly shoot up, turning a blonde color; it stayed black and looking glued-to-his head. But his skin was turning the color of a ripe plum as his already prodigious body hair thickened to concerning proportions. Muscles swelled, veins rising along them like mountain ranges, until his shirt ripped at the seams and his loose sweats resembled yoga pants. The whole process took about thirty seconds and the entire time, Mr.

Cheng just stood watching, hand on his chin and head cocked to the side. Roided Violet Beauregarde in stretch pants glared down at him.

"You… come… with… me." His speech slurred as it came out and there was a small pause between each word. Whoever made his inhaler needed to tinker more with his formula. He took a step forward with his tree trunk leg and tried to throw a punch, but his massive right arm was still completely non-functional. It wobbled forward and back again as if it were rubber. Staring down at it, his face mottled from purple to indigo. A scream bellowed through his clenched teeth and his eyes thinned to slits.

Guess this guy's secret was being angry all the time. Mr. Cheng had not returned to his combat stance. He just stood there- feet together, one hand on his chin with the other behind his back. A stream of spittle landed on his shoulder, but he didn't even glance at it. His eyes stayed on the raging bull as though he found him a curious anomaly. The indigo giant raised his ham-hock fist and shot it forward. It was like a train barreling right at Laushu's head, but Mr.

Cheng arced his body to the side and let it pass over his shoulder. Gargoyle's face scrunched up in concentration as his arm swung, jabbed and even reached out to grab him, but his hand just met empty air as Laushu swayed like a willow tree, always bending just out of reach. It didn't take long for the roid head to run out of steam. Soon he was puffing out air, boulder body doubled over, looking ready to collapse and make a huge dent in the floor. Mr. Cheng slowly walked around him.

"That drug you take is very bad for your health. Your organs are not strong enough for your larger body." He turned his back and stepped towards the display window beside the front door, gesturing to the exit.

"You should leave now. Go home and get some sleep, then rethink your life choices." Leaning forward with one good hand on his knee for support as he gasped for breath, Goliath lifted his head to glare at Mr. Cheng's retreating form. His body straightened and grabbed one of the wooden chairs against the wall. My heart froze in my chest. I opened my mouth to yell a warning, but there was no time. He launched it like a cannon ball at the back of Laushu's head.

Eyes closed, pulse pounding, I felt the familiar pressure at the front of my skull begin and the air around me grow thick. My eyes opened to see the chair frozen in mid air, still figures like chess pieces around it. Only four seconds to go, I sprinted out from the doorway and put one hand out toward the counter to vault over it, but looked up to see that Mr. Cheng was already out of the way. In the split second that my eyes had closed, he had stepped to the side and spun around.

He was now looking back at his attacker and when time returned would be able to see me. My stomach slammed into the counter, knocking the breath out of my lungs. But my hands immediately pushed back off the glass, sending myself stumbling to the doorway where I had been. My body fell, my brain throbbed, and the wooden chair flew just past Lau-shur's head. It crashed through the store window, hitting a car and exploding in pieces. Shards of blue glass erupted over the store floor, sliding all the way over to me. Mr.

Cheng hadn't glanced at the chair as it flew past him or at the glass shattering behind him. He didn't even look at the ape that just vaulted furniture at him. His eyes were locked on me in the doorway. Donkey Kong screamed at the top of his lungs and ran at him, but Mr. Cheng stood unmoving. The thug leapt at him, abandoning his one arm in exchange for his whole body, looking to crush Laushu into the ground. Instead of dodging out of the way, Mr.

Cheng lowered his body, spread his legs and swung his arms like he was redirecting a gust of wind and not a three hundred pound gym rat on super steroids. It worked. Instead of flattening the small Chinese man like he intended, the muscle maniac was flung past him and straight out the broken window. There was a sickening smack as his body hit the pavement outside, then slid several inches, skin shredding like on a cheese grater. A groan of pain followed that was just air escaping from his mouth. Mr.

Cheng stepped carefully through the sea of broken glass, opened the front door, and stepped out onto the street. Still short of breath and needing a brain massage, I raised myself up and hobbled to the counter for a better look. The receptionist had taken cover there from the window explosion, down on her knees with her hands covering her head and gasping out sobs. Now she finally looked around to see it was over and stood up next to me.

We watched through the open hole in the wall, the remaining glass crackled and looking ready to drop at any moment, to see Mr. Cheng crouched next to the thug who was struggling to get up. He rested his hand on his back gently.

"That was quite a fall. You could really hurt yourself jumping around like that." His lips frowned in concentration.

"Your heart can't take much more, you really need to lay down." Hulk-Smashed continued to push himself up.

"I'm gonna…" We never found out what he was going to do because Mr. Cheng extended two fingers and struck his neck. The thug fell like a marionette with its strings cut. Laushu stood back up, brushed his shirt clean of some dust, and walked back into the shop. As soon as he stepped back through the door, his eyes locked onto mine and his lips turned down. The receptionist picked up the phone behind the counter.

"Should I call the authorities, Mr. Cheng?" He glanced at her and gave her a quick smile.

"No Sharon, that will not be necessary. This is the White Dragons' territory. I pay their tax every month. Their number is in my address book behind the counter. They will take care of things." Black eyes shifted back to mine, piercing straight through me like he could read the insides of my retinas and see all my secrets. The smile left his lips, compressing into a straight line and air blew out his nostrils in a short angry burst.

Even when fighting off Muscle Mountain back there, his face hadn't looked like this. He'd seen it, he'd seen everything. Me standing near the doorway, then suddenly my body lying on the ground, two feet away from my original position.

I'd started running before time had stopped, hadn't I? No, I'd only moved forward after the chair had frozen in mid-air. His body had turned toward me, but only a split second before I'd frozen him, so maybe he hadn't registered where I was. You'd think the fight with a super saiyan would have distracted him. Maybe he was a super too, and he was only upset that I didn't tell him about my own status. Or he hated supers, at least unregistered ones? He was a big stickler for rules.

Now he would turn me in and I would never learn the Dim Mak and forever be some tool used by the Academy. Mr. Cheng put a hand on my shoulder. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, looking up into his cold, hard eyes. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Promise me you will never microwave your tea again."