Chapter 1:

"Panic swept hallway Pipa" Author: [high-end] tree color
Chapter 1 The Silent Situation
Wei Qiming's newly opened teahouse is a bit interesting.
Meng Xintang held a cigarette, raised his hand, and emptied the plaque hanging above his head.
"What's your name?"
The two words on the plaque: Daotang. The font is very strong. If you look closely, you can find traces of Mi Mi in it. It is estimated that it was from some contemporary people.
"You haven't seen it yet," Wei Qiming smiled proudly, his eyes narrowed. "People now love arty, I sell this teahouse is feelings, the stranger the name, the more people will not see Understood, the more people will feel that you have culture and depth. "
Meng Xintang shook his head and chuckled, and the smoke at his fingertips drew a small arc: "Co-authoring this is a mess, it's blind."
The two teased a few more words and entered the teahouse. As soon as he entered the door, he heard a crisp "Boss Wei".
Turning around, Meng Xintang had to admit that Wei Qiming really made it look like this, at least it can bluff people. The slippery square table has a large bench, and the teapot pays attention to different teas with different pots, purple sand, white porcelain, bowls, and the characteristic large copper pots of old Beijing. The most chic, there are even Beijing Opera sounds.
Meng Xintang felt novel and looked around, but couldn't find the source of the play.
Boss Wei walked around with him, introducing it in his mouth.
"The lobby on the first floor and the elegant room on the second floor. On this floor, whether it's the tables and chairs or the snoring, it's completely retro. I dare not say anything else, but the atmosphere of this lobby is lively, absolutely the same as earlier Some of the teahouses. "
Meng Xintang had already smoked cigarettes at the door, and now walking with Wei Qiming, his hands were empty, no wonder.
Wei Qiming was in high spirits, pointing to a side door and saying, "See? No, the old Hutong is behind. A group of uncles gather here to sing and perform every day. It spreads to me in the lobby. It is a natural background music, perfect."
After he said that, Meng Xintang understood it. He glanced at the light-filled back door. He was blinded by the bamboo curtain and could not see the light outside the door.
"Do you want to sit upstairs or downstairs?" Wei Qiming asked.
"Let's go downstairs," Meng Xintang smiled, "still listening to music."
The two picked up a window seat and sat down. Meng Xintang didn't know about tea and was not particular about it. He just called a pot of Gao Moer according to his habit.
"Why are you here today," Wei Qiming asked, leaning Erlang's legs and crossing his arms, "how can I see you usually?"
The tea spewed out of the dragon's mouth and made a scent of tea.
"There was something wrong with the project, and it was temporarily stopped. I was on vacation at home."
Immediately, Wei Qiming's face looked surprised: "A problem with the project?"
Meng Xintang looked as usual, and nodded intently. Wei Qiming looked at him strangely, and twisted his eyebrows, and asked, "What's wrong with this, can you workaholic not work?"
Without rushing to answer this question, Meng Xintang handed the tea cup to his lips and took a sip of relief. His Majesty tea cup, praised first: "This tea is really good."
"Well, it's up to you."
If Meng Xintang understands tea, he's afraid that this tea house will go to heaven.
Meng Xintang laughed again and again and said leisurely: "It is not entirely because of the problem of the project that I don't go to work. I just had a fight with the leader."
Fighting with the leader?
This time Wei Qiming could not shut up completely. You know, from the moment he met Meng Xintang, this person has lived like a 40-year-old uncle, always quiet by the sidelines, never moving, nor blushing for anything.
Downstairs, a little brother, a cotton linen cardigan, and a towel on his shoulders. He stood on the stairs, holding on to the railing and shouting, "Boss Wei, please find the guest."
This shout interrupted the question that Wei Qiming was planning to delve into.
Wei Qiming raised his head and said "hey", and said to Meng Xintang: "Then you sit down for a while, and I'll come back in two words."
Meng Xintang waved at him, signaled that he was busy with him.
After Wei Qiming left, Meng Xintang leisurely poured out his own drink. He is busy with work, focused and boring, has no hobbies, and no elegant pursuits. He spends most of his time in the laboratory, working day after day in a relatively closed environment. Now sitting in such a teahouse, sipling tea, listening to gossip, and talking for a long time, gave birth to a sense of return to peace.
The chatter of surrounding people, the sound of footsteps coming and going, and the sound of opera coming through the side door are all wonderful experiences for Meng Xintang.
He didn't understand the song sung by the uncle outside, but it sounded good. After listening to him sing for a while, Meng Xintang knocked on the table and thought: Anyway, it's better to rest for a while, it is better to go to Zhenger Ba Jing to listen to the drama and realize the national essence.
Thinking about that, the sound of the drama outside stopped. Jo Mo was talking about something interesting, and a bright laughter came in. Very strange, a young man's voice was mixed in the thick laughter of the dragon bell.
My heart was strange and I couldn't stop guessing.
The tea cup has been lit three times.
Meng Xintang was pouring the fourth cup, and a gentle melody sounded at this moment. The string of sounds burst into the hearts of the people.
Plainly, Meng Xintang's wrists shook, and the tea rushed to the square table, sh covering a large area. In a panic, he stretched out his three fingers and arrived on the chunky copper pot. The copper pot was not insulated, and Meng Xintang was burnt because he was cold.
Several 30 people poured tea and burned their hands, but they were really promising.
The twisted tone was still in the air, and his heart trembled, and he couldn't tell half of the pain to those painful fingers.
He raised his eyebrows and groaned for a moment. He lowered the teapot, got up, and didn't care to clean up the water stain.
Xunyin asked people, probably the bridge that often appeared in ancient opera.
On the way to the side door, the tune changed its tone. It was originally a note, dragging a lingering tail, but now it turned into a close and plucking sound, long and uniform, I don't know what is used.
During the turn-around period, Meng Xintang's steps stopped in front of the side door. Light leaked through the gap, carrying a few shadowy figures. The song reverted to the hooking tone at the beginning, and Meng Xintang finally raised his hand and lifted the last obstacle in front of him.
The bamboo curtain flipped up and stunned the birds on the steps.