Rebirth at the Start: This Fate is Too Explosive!

Chapter 560 American Coffee in the Teahouse

Looking across the entire city of Nanjing, if you were to ask who knows the most about the market, intricacies, and even the undisclosed "secret treasures" of top-tier luxury homes, you would be most knowledgeable.

The answer is almost a foregone conclusion.

They are not ordinary real estate agents, but rather the most elite group of second-generation elites in this city.

Born and raised here, they are well-informed and often have multiple sources of information circulating within their inner circle before the houses are even listed.

Ye Fan was originally swiping through his contacts on his phone screen, planning to invite Qin Kun, Fang Yu, and a few other top second-generation rich kids from Jinling to take a look.

Coincidentally, before he could even open the WeChat chat, Wu Shaojie's call came in first. The phone rang urgently, and when he answered, the guy on the other end was yelling and insisting on taking him to some private teahouse for tea, all very mysterious.

Ye Fan thought for a moment and realized that Wu Shaojie was also a resourceful and well-informed person, so contacting him might be more direct. He decided not to bother asking anyone else.

After confirming the location, he stepped on the gas and drove the supercar straight to the location sent by Wu Shaojie.

The destination is a high-end private teahouse in the core area of ​​the Binjiang district – [Cuiwei Tea House].

It takes about fifteen minutes by car.

The deep roar of the supercar's engine gradually subsided in front of a riverside villa that was a perfect example of "finding tranquility amidst the hustle and bustle".

Surrounded by towering buildings and bustling commercial districts, this place has carved out a tranquil haven.

Ye Fan pushed open the car door, stepped out with his long legs, and looked at the building in front of him.

It is a typical antique Chinese courtyard with white walls and black tiles, flying eaves and upturned corners. The materials used are extremely exquisite. The seemingly rustic wood has a faint warm luster, which is obviously an old material of considerable value.

The huge floor-to-ceiling windows are cleverly embedded in the traditional frame, ensuring both a panoramic view of the river and maintaining the overall aesthetic appeal.

In this prime riverside area where land is incredibly valuable, it's a blessing to own such an independent courtyard.

It's obvious to anyone with a brain that this is no ordinary business establishment.

Most likely, it's a private club or core location run by some wealthy and tasteful tycoon in the circle.

Walking on the polished bluestone path, led by a waiter dressed in an elegant cheongsam, we entered a private room overlooking the river.

Upon opening the door, the scene that greets the eye carries a strong Wu Shaojie style.

This guy was sprawled out on a Ming-style huanghuali armchair, completely lacking any decorum, his posture as languid as a cat sunbathing.

In her hand, however, she held an extremely exquisite bone china cup that seemed completely out of place with her appearance, and she was taking small sips with great seriousness, her brows slightly furrowed, as if she were savoring some kind of fine wine.

"Old Wu, you've found the perfect spot!"

Ye Fan pulled out another equally valuable rosewood chair and sat down, leaning back slightly and glancing at the magnificent view outside the window.

The mighty Yangtze River flows eastward, and the city skyline on the opposite bank is clearly visible under the clear autumn sky.

He joked with a smile:

"The idyllic scene of sitting alone in a secluded bamboo grove is gone, but the grandeur of gazing into the distance from the railing, watching the mighty river flow eastward and the waves wash away the past, is still there. You've practically monopolized half of Nanjing's most beautiful river views from this one window."

Upon hearing this, Wu Shaojie immediately laughed, put down his cup, pointed at Ye Fan, and smiled at the people next to him:

"Tsk tsk, listen to this! And it has to be a top student from one of our real prestigious universities—their speech is so pleasant, cultured, and classy!"

He changed the subject and began to criticize others:

"Unlike some idiot sitting here who probably can't read a single word, who just walked in, barely sat down in this expensive chair, and all he could say was 'Holy crap,' 'Awesome,' and 'How much did this cost?' So vulgar, utterly vulgar! He's defiling this elegant place!"

Zhang Lang, who was sitting to the side and eating sunflower seeds in front of Jiang Jing, suddenly turned pale and became unhappy.

He slammed a few sunflower seeds he was holding onto the table with a "thud".

"Wu Lao Er, shut up! What's wrong with 'Holy crap'? 'Holy crap' is the most primal, genuine, and heartfelt expression of emotion! It's a heartfelt exclamation! What do you know about elegance?!"

He rolled his eyes dramatically, then, as if he had found compelling evidence, pointed to the bone china cup in front of Wu Shaojie, turned to Ye Fan, and accused him in an exaggerated tone:

"Old Ye, you be the judge! We've all come to this top-notch Chinese teahouse to gather and discuss business, and this scoundrel just...!"

Zhang Lang's finger was almost poking the cup:

"He wouldn't order the signature Da Hong Pao or Tie Guan Yin, wouldn't drink aged Pu'er, and wouldn't even take a pot of Bi Luo Chun! He insisted on having a young lady in a cheongsam, skilled in tea ceremony, grind a cup of Americano for him fresh! And he specifically requested dark roast beans!"

He was heartbroken:

"Drinking coffee in a teahouse filled with the aroma of sandalwood and the sound of a guzheng! I've lived for over twenty years, traveled all over the country, and I can't find a single cultured word to curse him!"

"This is utterly ridiculous! A complete waste of resources! It's utterly nonsensical!"

Listening to Zhang Lang's vivid and detailed rant, Ye Fan couldn't help but shift his curious gaze to the incongruous white porcelain cup next to Wu Shaojie.

Upon closer inspection, the liquid inside was indeed dark and steaming, emitting a rich aroma of dark roasted coffee beans that was completely different from the faint tea and sandalwood fragrance in the private room.

Damn... it really is coffee.

Ye Fan was speechless for a moment, his lips twitched slightly, and he couldn't help but want to laugh.

In such an elegantly Chinese setting, one can so casually order an Americano.

This is an extremely bizarre and eclectic combination.

This kind of willful behavior, ignoring the context and only following one's own preferences, truly lives up to Wu Shaojie's reputation.

He has taken "highbrow" or "self" to a whole new level, leaving people speechless.

Seeing Ye Fan looking at him with a half-smile, barely suppressing his teasing, as if watching some rare animal performance, Wu Shaojie's old face finally turned slightly red, feeling a little embarrassed.

He coughed twice, trying to cover his embarrassment, quickly put down his coffee cup, sat up straight, and abruptly changed the subject, raising his voice by two octaves:

"Ahem! Well... let's get down to business! Old Ye, you said on the phone you wanted to look at houses?"

Ye Fan shook his head with a smile, expressing his helplessness at Wu Shaojie's "coffee incident," while his gaze subtly swept over every face in today's private gathering—a habit of his.

Besides old acquaintances Wu Shaojie and Zhang Lang, as well as a few rich second-generation individuals whose surnames I vaguely remembered from the last time I met them at Zhang Lang's private supercar show.

His gaze eventually fell in another direction.

There sat a stranger, a face he had never seen before.