My Apocalypse System Arrives 10 Years Early

Over the next few days, Li Xiang drove the three girls around to various tea factories to conduct on-site inspections, select suitable suppliers, and sign contracts. They also gathered plenty of video footage.

The procurement costs from these few days alone reached seven to eight million yuan, with many more large orders to follow.

Tea was set to become one of Li Xiang’s main businesses for the next few years. The profit margins were simply too high, and that was even with him leveraging his price advantage to give his fans a great deal.

Take a certain brand of small-can tea, for example. Its quality couldn’t compare to his at all, yet it sold for an outrageous price. One small can contained only 4 grams of tea, but a 10-can box sold for 500 yuan, and a 20-can box for 1,000 yuan. That’s equivalent to over six thousand yuan per jin!

The company advertised that their tea was hand-roasted by eight "masters." Later, some netizens did the math based on the company’s output and figured that for this to be true, each master would have to work 365 days a year without rest, roasting an average of 1,466 jin of fresh tea leaves per day. In contrast, a top-tier tea artisan roasting purely by hand would consider it an amazing feat to process forty to fifty jin of fresh leaves in a day.

For a tea like West Lake Longjing Tea, the process is complex and the standards are strict. Processing a dozen or so jin of fresh leaves to produce four or five jin of dried tea in a single day is already considered quite good.

And the most ridiculous part? Those eight "masters" were all company executives.

Unsurprisingly, this led to a great deal of skepticism from consumers.

Eventually, the company was forced to issue an apology. They then changed the character for "make" (做) to the one for "creation" (作)—which are pronounced identically—claiming it was a "master’s creation," not "made by a master."

But what did it matter? They had already made a fortune.

And Li Xiang’s prices were so much more reasonable. His top-grade, high-mountain tea was only 1,200 yuan per jin.

Granny Li Xiang also picked some wild green tea from a spot on a low-lying hillside. It wasn’t much; after several days of work, she had only gathered a little over five jin of fresh leaves.

Of course, she didn’t work on it all day. She would just head out to pick a little after lunch when the weather was nice and come back early. Then, she would roast the leaves herself in an iron wok, ultimately yielding about 1.2 jin of dried tea.

For this type of early spring green tea, it usually takes four to five jin of fresh leaves to produce one jin of dried tea.

She didn’t have any specialized equipment, and her roasting technique was self-taught, so the finished tea didn’t look very appealing. But when Li Xiang brewed a cup, the flavor was surprisingly good. However, due to its place of origin, its quality was still a far cry from the high-mountain tea from the factory.

Li Xiang told her not to go anymore, saying it was too dangerous. If she fell or twisted her ankle, it just wouldn’t be worth it. Her own grandson was already buying tea in bulk to start a business, so why worry about a jin or two of wild tea?

Picking tea leaves is actually incredibly laborious. A novice on their first trip up the mountain would be exhausted to the point of collapse and might only end up with two or three jin of fresh leaves. They could easily twist an ankle or strain their back, and an even unluckier person might roll right down the mountainside.

Even a skilled picker harvesting early spring green or black tea doesn’t gather a huge amount—typically only 5-10 jin of fresh leaves per day. But for Pu’er tea, the yield is much greater, with a picker able to gather around thirty to fifty kilograms a day.

This is because good green and black teas are picked as "one bud and one leaf," or occasionally "one bud and two leaves," which are small and tender. Pu’er, on the other hand, is picked as two or three larger, coarser leaves.

Pu’er tea is valued for its durability in brewing and its fragrance, which deepens with age. Green tea, conversely, is all about freshness. It’s categorized by harvest time—"Pre-Qingming," "Post-Qingming," and "After the Rains"—and focuses on picking tender buds and tips for a fresh, sweet, and crisp taste. It typically loses its flavor after just one or two steepings.

Black tea is slightly different from green tea. While it can also be categorized by harvest times like Pre-Qingming and After the Rains, its production process is distinct, involving steps like withering, rolling, and fermentation. Good craftsmanship can often close the quality gap between different harvest times, so ultimately it comes down to personal preference.

In the past, black tea was simply categorized as new tea, aged tea, or by season, such as spring, summer, or autumn tea. It was only when the market became hyper-competitive that more elaborate classifications were invented.

As for the tea harvested directly with machines—WHIRRR~, the kind that mows down large patches at once—that’s used for making tea extracts, bottled tea drinks, tea bags, and the like.

Li Xiang later turned that tea table into a small art project. He "fixed it up," had Yao Yao paint some designs on it, and then carved them into the wood. The final result looked quite nice. He now had it set up in the courtyard, where he was brewing a pot of fresh tea, leisurely enjoying the spring sunlight.

When the Apocalypse arrives in a few years, there will be no more precious, free sunlight like this. Many people will come to regret not cherishing these moments, which they had once taken for granted.

"Brother~"

The voice was crisp and sweet—not as coyly delicate as Yao Yao’s, nor as reserved and demure as Zhao Xueqing’s, but full of a lively, mischievous energy. It was Jiang Cai’Er, back from school for the holidays!

"Come have some tea!" Li Xiang said, turning and waving her over.

"OKK!" Jiang Cai’Er skipped over joyfully, her refreshing natural scent even more captivating than the aroma of the tea.

"’OK’ is fine, but why ’OKK’?"

"Hmph! You threw a banquet and didn’t even wait for me. I didn’t even get to attend your feast!"

"What’s so great about a catered banquet like that, anyway? I’ll cook for you myself later, and whip up a few dishes. I’ve gotten pretty good at making green tea shrimp recently. You can be the judge of my skills."

"Okay, I’m looking forward to it." Jiang Cai’Er picked up a teacup and took a delicate sip. "Wow, this tea is really nice," she praised.

"Of course. It’s the best high-mountain tea, from an altitude of over a thousand meters. There’s not much of it." Li Xiang went on to tell her about his recent inspection trips to the tea factories and mountains. As she listened, Jiang Cai’Er’s eyes narrowed into happy crescents, a clear sign that she wished she could have gone along.

Li Xiang said, "You should focus on your studies for now. Once you’re in college, you can come run around with me everywhere during your breaks."

"Brother, take me to see your newly renovated house!" Jiang Cai’Er demanded.