Now he could commit terrible deeds, and then the Gu family would have their property confiscated and be executed. Just imagining the expressions on Madam Gu’s and her children’s faces at that time made Gu Jie unable to hold back a smile.
As for Meng Chengwei not signing the contract himself but instead putting forward someone unknown to sign and stamp, Yang Hong was naturally dissatisfied, but he dared not say anything. If he refused, Meng Chengwei could immediately turn and leave.
When Ye Chongming received the message passed on by Song Dequan, Meng Chengwei was drinking tea at the Yang family’s teahouse.
“…I’ll return to the Capital tomorrow. The matter I mentioned, Master Yang, please handle it promptly. Rest assured, Gu Jie will remain in Lin’an. If anything comes up, you can speak directly to him, and he will contact me,” said Meng Chengwei.
“Very well, Master Meng,” Yang Hong replied, feeling somewhat excited.
Meng Chengwei had invested tens of thousands of taels of silver for him to contribute Jiangnan tea as shares. Although sharing these tea leaves with others pained him greatly, with the Meng family’s support, they could acquire raw tea from the surrounding areas, and the Yang family business would continue to grow.
By next year, the position of head of Jiangnan’s tea industry should be his to claim.
Just as he was about to express his loyalty to Meng Chengwei, he saw his servant enter and gesture to him, indicating there was a matter at the teahouse.
Yang Hong’s heart skipped a beat.
Although he had already signed a contract with Meng Chengwei’s representative Gu Jie, and their cooperation would not change, Meng Chengwei’s impression of him, good or bad, would directly affect the level of his support.
Meng Chengwei was returning to the Capital tomorrow. During this time, nothing should happen that might affect Meng Chengwei’s favorable view of the Yang family.
As his mind raced, trying to think of an excuse to go out and inquire about the situation, he heard a commotion from downstairs.
Naturally, Meng Chengwei heard it too.
He frowned and looked at Yang Hong. “What’s going on?”
Yang Tai, who was beside them, quickly explained to Meng Chengwei: “It’s probably some ruffian causing trouble. Recently, there’s been a ruffian who likes to go to teahouses and taverns, order food, then lie on the ground after eating, insisting that the food was poisoned and demanding compensation. Since he doesn’t ask for much, many managers prefer to settle the matter peacefully and simply pay him off. And now, he’s becoming increasingly brazen.”
As he spoke, he stood up and cupped his hands toward Meng Chengwei. “Master Meng, please remain seated. I’ll go check.”
But before he could take a step, Yang Hong’s expression changed dramatically, and Meng Chengwei’s face also darkened.
The voice from downstairs was extremely loud, and the pronunciation was clear. The three words “Meng Chengwei” were repeatedly mentioned, making it impossible for Yang Hong to pretend he hadn’t heard. Moreover, the voice was filled with anger, clearly indicating that the person downstairs harbored ill will toward Meng Chengwei.
He looked at Meng Chengwei, wondering how this master had offended the person downstairs, causing them to come here and make a scene.
Being publicly called out and insulted, Meng Chengwei naturally couldn’t hide upstairs like a coward.
He stood up and said, “Let’s go see.” Then he led the way out the door.
The Yang family’s teahouse had been built following the style of the Ye family’s teahouse. The third floor was a place for the owner and managers to handle business and rest. There was a dedicated staircase at the back for going up and down, and another staircase at the front for the convenience of the owner and managers to go downstairs to handle various matters, without having to go down from the back and then come around.
With Yang Hong entertaining Meng Chengwei upstairs, fearing that guests might wander in by mistake, servants were stationed at both staircases.
Now, seeing the door open and Meng Chengwei taking the lead, Meng Chengwei’s attendants quickly gathered around him in a protective formation.
A servant standing at the top of the stairs, facing Meng Chengwei’s group, made a gesture behind his back.
The man downstairs was still speaking with great enthusiasm. Now, without doors to muffle the sound, his voice became even clearer: “…of course, the Wang family’s young master refused to sell.”
At this point, his voice suddenly paused, and his tone carried anger: “Guess what happened next?”
The man was talking about something Meng Chengwei had done when he was fifteen. Because the setup was good, the story was immersive and had captured everyone’s attention.
Now, seeing that the man had stopped at the crucial moment to create suspense, the audience grew dissatisfied and clamored: “Oh, how would I know what that heartless Meng Chengwei did? Don’t keep us in suspense, hurry and tell us!”
“Yes, hurry up and tell us.”
“Oh my, this Meng Chengwei is simply too evil,” someone else added.
Listening from upstairs, Yang Hong’s face turned ashen.
Ever since Meng Chengwei had arrived in Lin’an, upon learning of his identity, Yang Hong’s son, Yang Tai, had approached him and kept track of his movements. Yang Hong knew that this young Master Meng was an extremely self-disciplined person. During his stay at the inn, he was either reading or writing, only coming to the teahouse during the day.
He had observed him for several days before deciding to cooperate with Young Master Meng. Otherwise, if he were truly incompetent or someone who liked to cause trouble, would Yang Hong cooperate with him because his life was too peaceful?
Yet now, these tea drinkers were somehow talking nonsense, portraying Young Master Meng in such a negative light, and they even came to his teahouse to do it, specifically when Meng Chengwei was here!
He said to Meng Chengwei: “Master Meng, please wait. I’ll go seek justice for you.” With that, he adjusted his clothes, rolling up his sleeves, and was about to go downstairs in anger.
Meng Chengwei, despite his young age, had achieved success not only because of his cunning but also because of his strong character. He never feared trouble and always dealt with issues directly.
If Yang Hong intervened, he would merely say a few moderate words and drive the person away, but Meng Chengwei’s reputation could not be salvaged. Moreover, once the Yang family members thought about it, they would wonder if Meng Chengwei was truly the vicious person described.
Therefore, this matter could not be resolved by him hiding in the back while Yang Hong took the lead.
With this in mind, Meng Chengwei also followed Yang Hong downstairs.
The second floor was normally private rooms, and there weren’t many people there on ordinary days. Everyone preferred to stay in the bustling first-floor hall to chat with others, drink tea, and listen to storytellers.
But in the past couple of days, in order to show Meng Chengwei that his business was more prosperous than the Ye family’s, and also to compete for customers with Jihong Pavilion, which was doing booming business with osmanthus tea, Yang Hong had offered a 50% discount on all expenses at the teahouse. This had attracted quite a few people to come and spend their money. The private rooms on the second floor already had many guests.
The man’s voice was extremely loud, and his tales about Meng Chengwei in the Capital were full of twists and turns, even more engaging than the stories told by the storyteller on the first floor. The customers from the first floor couldn’t resist peering up the stairs.
In the end, they simply went up to the second floor to listen to the gossip, and the servers couldn’t stop them. As a result, the second floor was now just as lively as the first.
“Smack!” At some point, the man had brought out a table, and like the storyteller downstairs, he slapped his fan on the table, creating a dramatic effect that effectively grabbed everyone’s attention.
“That scoundrel Meng Chengwei had people hold the Wang family’s young master in a water vat…” he said in a resonant voice, with a cadence that rose and fell, completely taking on the demeanor of a professional storyteller.