An investor offers to fund a struggling family tea shop on the verge of closing—on the condition that its owner modernize the way he makes tea.
Scene 1: An Offer in an Empty Tea Shop
老茶铺的木门吱呀一响，西装革履的陈先生走了进来，环顾着这间冷清的小店。
The old tea shop's wooden door creaked open, and Mr. Chen, an investor in a crisp suit, stepped inside, casting his eyes around the quiet little shop.
六十多岁的周师傅正低头炒着茶，铁锅里腾起一阵清香。
Master Zhou, a man in his sixties, was bent over his work, roasting tea, a delicate fragrance rising from the iron wok.
Chen
周师傅，您这没得说，可如今谁还耐着性子等一锅手炒茶呢？再这么下去，铺子迟早得关门。
Master Zhou, your craft is beyond question—but who these days has the patience to wait for a single batch of hand-roasted tea? Keep going like this, and sooner or later you'll have to shut the place down.
Zhou
我做了一辈子茶，关门也认了。你们城里人是来谈生意的吧？
I've made tea my whole life. If it has to close, so be it. You city folk came here to talk business, didn't you?
Scene 2: The Strings Attached to the Money
陈先生掏出一份，拍在桌上，语气里满是不容拒绝的自信。
Mr. Chen pulled out a contract and slapped it down on the table, his voice brimming with a confidence that left no room for refusal.
Chen
我投钱，开十家连锁店。但茶得改用机器，包装做得高档些，价格翻三倍，专卖给那些舍得花钱的年轻人。
I put up the money, we open ten chain stores. But the tea has to switch to mass production by machine, the packaging gets a high-end makeover, the price triples, and we sell to the kind of young people who don't mind spending.
Zhou
机器炒出来的，，那还算什么茶？喝的人迟早能尝出来。
Machine-roasted tea, all cooked to the exact same heat, every batch identical—how can you even call that tea? Whoever drinks it will taste the difference sooner or later.
Chen
尝得出又怎样？他们买的是牌子和面子，不是您那点。
So what if they can taste it? What they're buying is the brand and the prestige, not that fussy craft of yours.
Scene 3: The Apprentice Who Stayed
门口角落里，二十出头的徒弟小林一直没吭声，这时却开了口。
In the corner by the door, Xiao Lin, the apprentice barely past twenty, had stayed silent the whole time—but now he spoke up.
Xiao Lin
陈先生，我跟着师傅学了三年，光是控火就练了一整年。这门要是断在机器手里，可就再也找不回来了。
Mr. Chen, I've studied under the master for three years—just learning to control the heat took me a whole year. If this craft dies out in the hands of machines, we'll never get it back, no matter how hard we try.
Chen
不能当饭吃。年轻人，等你饿了肚子，就明白我今天说的话了。
Sentiment doesn't put food on the table. Young man, once your stomach starts growling, you'll understand what I'm telling you today.
Zhou
小林，去把那罐存了五年的明前茶泡上，让陈先生临走前，尝一口真东西。
Xiao Lin, go brew that jar of pre-Qingming tea I've been keeping for five years. Let Mr. Chen taste the real thing before he leaves.
Scene 4: One Sip Before Leaving
茶汤碧绿，热气袅袅。陈先生本想客套地抿一口，却愣住了，久久没有放下杯子。
The tea was a deep emerald green, steam curling up from it. Mr. Chen meant only to take a polite sip, but he froze, and for a long while he didn't set the cup down.
Chen
……这味道，我小时候在乡下外婆家喝过。后来再贵的茶，都没这一口。
...This taste—I drank it as a child at my grandmother's place out in the countryside. No matter how expensive the tea I had later, none of it was ever like this.
他沉默了好一会儿，把那份慢慢收了回去，撕成了两半。
He sat in silence for a good while, then slowly drew the contract back and tore it in two.
Chen
店我还是想投，但茶，您按老法子做。卖不上价，我认了。
I still want to invest in the shop—but the tea, you make it the old way. If it won't fetch a price, I'll live with that.
周师傅笑了笑，没说话，转身又往锅里添了一把新茶。
Master Zhou gave a faint smile, said nothing, and turned back to toss another handful of fresh leaves into the wok.