Yum Cha Tea House

At the end of a busy street in Beijing sat a tea house named “Yum Cha.” Yum Cha means “drink tea.” This tea house was owned by Mr. Li, who ran it with his son, Bo. They opened the store early in the morning for the businessmen and kept it open late into the night for University students.
Often, Ying Liu would go to Yum Cha with Grandpa Jong to meet Grandpa’s helpful and loyal friend, Pu Li. Grandpa Jong visited the tea house often, drinking tea and playing Go with Mr. Li.
Ying and Grandpa Jong walked down the crowded streets of Beijing from their tiny house on the hill to Yum Cha. looked at one tall building after another. Ying wondered what people inside the buildings were doing. Grandpa Jong would always hold Ying’s hand very tightly to keep from losing the daydreaming boy.
“Grandpa Jong?”
“Yes Ying?”
“Do you think I’ll work in one of these tall buildings one day?”
“If you want, yes. Do you want?”
“Yes, very much.”
“Then you will. Whatever you want you can have, if you work hard enough.”
Yum Cha sat in a crowded corner, between an old apartment building and an auto repair shop. The store front was plain, with white vinyl and large glass windows. To anyone casually passing by, they wouldn’t think there was much of anything inside. From the outside, it just looked like any other “family” shop.
Once Ying stepped inside, it looked like something completely different. Ceiling fans slowly circled around high above Ying’s head. To the right, there was a row of tables for two. To the left, Mr. Li fixed rice noodles and dim sum for customers while his son Bo brewed tea and operated the cash register.
“Jong! Hey old buddy!” Mr. Li shouted from behind the counter.
“Hey Pu! Could you use some help?” asked Grandpa Jong.
“Always,” answered Mr. Li.
“Grandpa Jong grabbed an apron and walked around to the back of the counter. He spoke with Bo, then prepared trays of tea and served customers seated at the tables.
“Ying?”
“Yes, Grandpa?”
“Can you clean dishes off the tables for Mr. Li?”
“Yes, Grandpa.”
Ying grabbed an empty plastic tub and filled it with dirty dishes. He unloaded the dirty dishes into the sink and filled the empty tub again. After he cleaned the dishes from the tables, he took a wet rag and cleaned the table tops.
Customers continued coming through the front door of Yum Cha Tea House. Ying and his Grandpa worked for a good part of the afternoon, fixing tea and cleaning the tables.
“Please take a seat Jong,” said Mr. Li.
“Are you sure?”
“You’re my guest,” insisted Mr. Li.
Grandpa Jong and Ying found one of the Go tables next to the bamboo stalks at the front window. The Go tables were marked with gridlines so people could play Go while they sipped on their tea.
Soon, Mr. Li brought a teapot out to their table. Mr. Li poured Chai tea into Grandpa Jong’s teacup while Grandpa Jong tapped on the table with a finger. Grandpa Jong stopped tapping and Mr. Li stopped pouring. He then set the teapot beside Grandpa Jong’s teacup. Grandpa Jong turned his hand over and rapped on the table with a bent knuckle.
“Where did tapping the table come from?” asked Ying.
“It’s a very old custom, Ying,” said Grandpa.
“A very old custom indeed,” said Mr. Li. “When the Emperor traveled among the peasants, he would travel incognito.”
“Incognito?”
“In secret, so nobody would know it was him. His servant would pour him a cup of tea. As he tapped his finger, his servant filled his cup. When he stopped, his servant stopped. Then the Emperor would pour a cup of tea for his servant, since no man is to pour his own cup of tea. The servant wanted to bend down in front of the Emperor to show his respect.”
“But that would give away the identity of the Emperor,” said Ying.
“Yes, it would,” answered Grandpa Jong.
“So, that’s why you knocked on the table?”
“Yes, our bent fingers represent a sort of bow. A sign of mutual respect.”
Mr. Li opened a container of milk and set it in front of Ying Liu. “I brought you a container of milk.”
“I think I would like some tea.”
“I don’t know that you will like it.”
“Grandpa has let me try his. I think it will be okay.”
“I’ll make a special tea just for you,” said Mr. Li.
“Can I have some tea with milk?”
“As you wish, Master Ying.”
As Mr. Li fetched a cup of tea for Ying, Ying watched people enjoying their tea. Many couples sat at the tables. Some were businessmen, some were dates, and still others were family members: a mother and daughter, two sisters, or even a boy and his grandfather.
“How long have you know Mr. Li?” asked Ying.
“All my life it seems,” answered Grandpa Jong.
“What do you mean?”
“I first met Mr. Li when I was just about your age. My father brought us to Beijing from Shanghai. I was very scared.”
“You were scared?” asked Ying.
“Of course I was scared. I left everything in Shanghai – friends, family, and school. One of the first people I met in Beijing was Mr. Li. He sat in front of me in school.”
Just then, Mr. Li returned with a cup of milk tea for Ying. As he poured the cup, Ying tapped his fingers on the table, just as his Grandpa Jong had done before.
“You were best friends in grade school?”
“Far from it. We never talked. My best friend was named Kee Fung.”
“Oh, Kee Fung. There’s a name I have not heard in a very long time,” said Mr. Li.
“How did you become friends?”
“Once, I was in a grocery store with Kee and he wanted me to steal a candy bar.”
“Did you?”
“Of course not. But Kee stuffed his pockets with candy bars.
”When the shopkeeper yelled at him, we all ran. The shopkeeper chased us out of the store, but didn’t catch us. Later, I returned to the store and the shopkeeper decided he was going to tell the police.”
“What happened?”
“The shopkeeper was Pu Li’s father. Pu had seen the whole thing and he stood up for me. I ended up working at the grocery store with Pu. We’ve been friends ever since.”
“What happened to Kee?”
“I don’t know what happened to him. He got in trouble at school and was expelled. After that, we never saw him again. Mr. Li was the best thing that happened to me.”
“No, Jong. You were the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“What did he do?” asked Ying.
“He was the one who helped me open Yum Cha. I was working at my father’s grocery store and I wasn’t doing very well. There where groceries to order, inventory to count. It was very hard work.”
Grandpa Jong nodded. “Very hard work indeed. Mr. Li was unhappy, so I convinced him to try something he liked. He said he always wanted to open a tea store and restaurant.”
“Your grandfather would work all day in the steampipe factory, making pipes. After work, he’d come to the tea house and help me run the store.”
“Friendship is very important, Ying. Without each other, we would not be where we are. We build our friendship every day,” said Mr. Li.
Mr. Li winked at Ying and returned to his work behind the counter. Ying walked over to a bookshelf and pulled out a small tin box. It was filled with black and white stones for playing Go. Ying shook the box and smiled at his grandfather.
As usual, Grandpa Jong used the white stones and Ying used the black stones. They took turns placing their stones until the table was covered.
“I lost again,” said Ying.
“I’ve been playing my whole life. You’ve only been playing for a few years. Don’t worry, one day you’ll beat me and I’ll say ‘I lost again.’”
“I guess,” said Ying.
“My grandfather used to always beat me. You know what he said afterwards?”
“Don’t worry, one day you’ll beat me and I’ll say ‘I lost again.’”
“Did you ever beat him?”
“I don’t think so. He was a very good Go player.”
“Didn’t you want to give up?”
“Never. I always looked forward to the next time we played, win or lose. It was being with my grandfather that mattered most, not who won and who lost.”
Ying gathered the black stones and put them into a bowl. “Do you want to play again?”
“Do you?”
“Of course I do,” said Ying.
They played Go all afternoon long as they enjoyed their tea. They played eight games and Grandpa Jong won eight games in a row. Each time, Grandpa Jong would reassure Ying.
“Do you want to play again?” asked Ying.
“Not today, it’s getting late.”
“I feel a win coming on,” said Ying.
“Then I definitely don’t want to play again,” laughed Grandpa Jong.
Ying gathered the stones and put them into a small leather bag. He placed them on the shelf and they said goodbye to Mr. Li and Bo. They walked through the streets of Beijing. When their house appeared at the top of the hill, Ying raced to the front door. Grandpa Jong came along soon afterwards.
“How was your day?” asked Ying’s father.
“We played Go,” said Ying.
“How did you do?” asked Ying’s father.
“I lost eight times.”
“Don’t worry, one day you’ll win.”
Ying laughed, then washed his hands and got ready for dinner. He wasn’t worried about winning. He had gotten to spend an entire day with Grandpa Jong and nothing could be better.