Tea Leaves Reeking of Corpse Stench

Having packed my gear, I set off. Since I had no idea what was causing the trouble, I brought plenty of supplies, taking everything that could possibly be of use.

I soon arrived in front of the tea workshop. It was smaller and much more shabby than I had imagined. When I stepped inside, several workers were sitting around smoking in sullen silence, surrounded by towering stacks of unsold tea leaves. From time to time, one of them would let out a bitter curse.

They were complaining about being stuck there day in and day out with no work and consequently no money.

I took the initiative to strike up a conversation. Upon hearing that I was looking for the person in charge, the workers gave me cold stares. Shortly after, they called out their boss. When I explained the purpose of my visit, his eyes lit up so brightly he nearly fell to his knees in front of me.

After a brief chat, we steered the conversation toward business.

"I've heard about what happened to you," I said. "When did the trouble with your tea begin?"

The man introduced himself as Pei Chengjun, the owner of the tea workshop. He then recounted his bitter journey of entrepreneurship. In his youth, he had not been in the tea business at all, but rather a street-roaming punk—to put it bluntly, a hoodlum by origin.

Later, he had a change of heart, opened a tea workshop, and resolved to turn over a new leaf. Thanks to a stroke of good luck, he actually succeeded. After running the business for over a decade, his workshop had built a solid foundation. But who could have foreseen this sudden disaster, which nearly drove his entire enterprise to ruin overnight? Now, everyone who had fallen ill or died after drinking his tea was hounding him for compensation.

After venting at great length, Pei Chengjun finally answered my question: "It was a while ago—just recently that the tea started going wrong."

I nodded knowingly and asked him to show me the tea. Treating me almost like a divine savior, Pei hurried to lead the way, slipping me a pack of Zhonghua cigarettes along the path. Naturally, I didn't refuse. Even if I didn't smoke, I could always take them back for Li Xiang, couldn't I?

I suppose I'm a loyal friend, at least when it comes to that kid Li Xiang.

Pei Chengjun soon led me to a sack of tea leaves. He untied the opening, and the leaves spilled out in a cascade. My eyes locked onto the brand logo printed on the packaging in astonishment, for I had seen it before—and even tasted tea of this very brand.

It was tea that Li Xiang had bought. That kid was obsessed with this particular brand and used to boast endlessly about how much he loved it, claiming he deeply admired its founder. Rumor had it that the brand's skyrocketing popularity stemmed from a bold marketing strategy employed by its founder years ago. As for what that strategy actually was, I had no idea.

Anyway, the founder's audacity was extraordinary, and Li Xiang constantly mumbled about emulating him to become a boss himself one day. Could this man possibly be Pei Chengjun?

The tea leaves tumbled into an iron tray with a crisp rattle, spreading out before my eyes. I instinctively grabbed a handful and brought it up to my nose to sniff. A wave of delicate fragrance hit me immediately, but intertwined with it was an unmistakable stench.

Frowning deeply, I handed the leaves to Pei Chengjun. "Take a sniff. What does this smell like?"

Pei took a sniff, and his expression shifted dramatically. "What is this odor? Why would tea leaves smell like this?"

"I suspect something has been added to your tea," I told him. "And that foul odor is the stench of a corpse."

At these words, not only did Pei Chengjun's face drain of color, but so did the faces of every worker in the room. Livid with rage, Pei whipped around and roared at the workers, "Which one of you bastards is this? Let me tell you, if you have a grievance against me, come at me openly! I used to run the streets myself, and I have zero respect for sneaky cowards."

Cowed by his outburst, the workers instantly fell silent, not a single one daring to utter a sound. It was clear they held a great deal of fear toward Pei Chengjun.

Watching him chew out the workers, I quickly stepped in to stop him. "Hold on, don't jump to conclusions. This might not be the workers' doing. Besides, we haven't figured out the root cause yet. Why don't you take me to look at the fresh tea leaves first?"

Calmed by my advice, Pei Chengjun let out a cold snort and led me toward a basin of newly harvested tea leaves. Stepping up to the basin, I reached out to touch the leaves, brought them to my nose, and once again caught that unmistakable corpse stench.

"This isn't right," I told Pei Chengjun. "Even the fresh leaves carry the smell of a corpse. This means nobody is tampering with the finished product; the problem likely lies with the tea itself."

A sudden realization dawned on Pei. He picked up a fresh tea leaf, gave it a sniff, and his expression turned grim.

Behind Pei Chengjun, the workers were peeking over inquisitively. I noticed several of them glaring daggers at him, looking as though they wanted to devour him alive. They were probably still burning with resentment over his harsh scolding, feeling he had wrongfully accused them.

To my complete surprise, once Pei Chengjun realized his mistake, he suddenly turned around and took the initiative to apologize to the workers. "Everyone, I am sorry for shouting at you just now. Please forgive me."

For a boss to swallow his pride like that left me quite astonished. On the faces of the workers, too, expressions of sheer disbelief emerged. One of them stepped forward and said sincerely, "Boss, don't be like that. We don't hold it against you."

Watching them, I offered a quiet smile. It seemed Pei Chengjun's reputation for loyalty wasn't just talk. Instantly, I developed a bit more respect for the man. At the same time, I refocused my attention on the tea.

"If the fresh leaves are already ruined," I said, "I suspect there might be something wrong with your tea plantation. We'll have to go inspect it to find out for sure."

Nodding repeatedly, Pei Chengjun readily agreed. Then, personally escorting me, he rushed toward the plantation. Although the plantation was at some distance from the workshop, it wasn't too far; after half an hour of walking along a mountain path, we arrived.

I lifted my gaze to survey the tea fields, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first glance. Kneeling down, I scooped up a handful of soil and gave it a sniff, instantly gagging. The earth itself reeked heavily of a corpse, so pungent it made my eyes water.

So the real problem lay within the soil. The tea plants must have absorbed water tainted by the ground, which ruined the harvest.

I immediately asked Pei Chengjun, "Where do you draw the water you use to irrigate the plantation?"

Before Pei could answer, one of the workers spoke up first. "We pump it from a nearby drainage ditch."

Shortly after, we hurried over to the ditch. Situated near a residential area with houses lining both banks, the ditch gave off a sickening, foul stench the moment we approached.

And the source of that stench seemed to be coming from a small building nearby. Signaling for Pei Chengjun and the others to follow, I walked over and discovered that the structure was an old public toilet. Pinching my nose, I stepped inside and recoiled in horror: lying on the floor were no fewer than five human corpses, all of them in advanced stages of decomposition.