It was indeed the legendary Qian Duoduo. Besides the trademark figure eight mustache, waxed to sharp points, Qian Duoduo's hands were rolling a pair of walnuts polished to a deep, oily patina, the rhythmic clack-clack a soft counterpoint to the tense air.
From those fluent movements and flexible fingers, Jing Shu could tell Qian Duoduo had "rolled" a lot of things over the years, the motion practiced, almost meditative. Jing Shu wondered if anything Qian Duoduo disliked would end up getting rolled too, crushed in that same palm.
Only then did Qian Duoduo look at Jing Shu, his gaze assessing. Satisfaction crossed his face. At least her clothes were clean, simple cotton but spotless. If someone has foul odor, he would never let the family eat food made by that person, a fastidiousness born of wealth and fear.
He smiled kindly, the mustache lifting. "Thank you for coming. You must be Ms. Jing. I heard your ice cream is excellent, so I asked Minister Niu Mou to invite you. My son is allergic to certain additives, so we need to test the ingredients first." The explanation was polite, a veneer over deep caution.
Jing Shu nodded, understanding. The richer someone was, the more cautious and afraid of death they tended to be. It made sense. Qian Duoduo would be afraid someone might poison it, or add something harmful in the name of flavor, a paranoia that was also a shield.
"Ms. Jing, rest assured. Whether or not we end up using your ice cream, I will give you a result that satisfies you." The promise was grand, a show of magnanimity.
Truly generous, or at least appearing so.
Jing Shu took the pretty glass jars of ice cream out of the cooler, the cold mist swirling, and handed them to the waiting lab tech. A man in a white coat and mask received them with gloved hands and went off to a side room to test, the door clicking shut.
"Please wait a moment," Qian Duoduo said, his tone shifting. One second his figure eight mustache curved at a sixty degree friendly angle, the next it straightened with fury, the ends pointing down. With a single gesture, a flick of his wrist, four bodyguards moved as one, pinning three terrified men who had been standing to the side to the ground. The trio begged for mercy nonstop, their voices high with panic.
Rolling one walnut in hand, he pointed at them with the other, the nut like a tiny, accusing finger. "I, Qian, am rich and sometimes foolish. If something is good and you name a sky high price, I can accept it." His voice was calm, almost conversational. "But one of you overdid an additive by ten times. Another used something that expired six months ago. The last one brought me product laced with poppy."
By the end, his tone had gone icy, the temperature in the room seeming to drop further. "So you wanted to fish with a long line, is that it? Poppy is not something ordinary people can get." The accusation hung in the air, heavy with implication.
Jing Shu narrowed her eyes, watching. So Qian Duoduo had been burned badly before. No wonder the caution, the onsite testing. Trust was a commodity in short supply.
Minister Niu Mou leaned over and whispered to Jing Shu, his voice low, "This research institute is funded by Mr. Qian. They test all kinds of things for him." Food, drugs, loyalty, it was all part of the service.
"Impressive." A tall tree catches the wind. Qian Duoduo must have provoked plenty of envy. With a figure like him around, a lightning rod for attention and resentment, whatever she did would not stand out as much. A pity she had not known about him in the last life, he would have been a useful landmark in the chaos.
At last Qian Duoduo flicked a glance, a tiny movement of his eyes. The bodyguards dragged the weeping trio away, their shoes scuffing on the polished floor. Perhaps because there was an outsider present, Jing Shu, Qian Duoduo did not allow rougher methods, the violence kept just out of sight.
"Sorry for the spectacle," Qian Duoduo said with a polite, slightly embarrassed smile, the anger vanishing as if switched off. "I heard Ms. Jing uses fresh milk to make an all natural ice cream. I assume there are not many messy additives." The compliment was also a probe.
This was the perfect chance to plant a flag, to state her value.
"The 'messy additives' I use are all good for the body," Jing Shu said with a small, confident smile. She had worried about how to convincingly claim that eating her ice cream was nourishing and healthful. Now, with his own testers on hand, the assist had arrived, a setup for the reveal.
Qian Duoduo's face said I don't believe it, though the mouth said, "Oh, I look forward to hearing it." The skepticism was barely masked.
So perfunctory. Jing Shu stayed silent, waiting for the data to speak.
…
The lab tech returned, his expression one of stunned respect. He handed the tablet to Qian Duoduo, who scanned it quickly.
"What did you say? Say that again." Qian Duoduo dug at an ear with a finger, suspicious of what had been heard, his eyes wide on the screen.
The tech cleared his throat. "No other additives. Pure natural food. It perfectly preserves all nutrients not found in ordinary ice cream. Per one hundred grams, it supplements calcium, rich protein, minerals, and lecithin, roughly equal to one egg and two hundred grams of milk combined.
The lecithin is brain nourishing and beneficial for your son's recovery. Nutrients absorbed naturally are far more effective than injections. We verified this three times." The report was definitive.
The walnuts slipped from Qian Duoduo's fingers and thumped to the floor, rolling away. His voice shook. "Say that again."
The tester repeated the conclusion carefully, word for word. He stood and paced a few steps, his silk jacket rustling. "Good. Good. I never thought this method would work. That kid would rather die than eat eggs or drink milk. Excellent." He turned, eyes bright. "How is the taste?"
"Excellent."
Qian Duoduo shook Minister Niu Mou's hand in excitement, a firm grip, then turned to Jing Shu, his gaze intense. "So you added only good things. No matter the cost, I want this ice cream. Here, let everyone try it." He was sold.
The tester spooned samples into small paper cups for Qian Duoduo, the remaining two bodyguards, Minister Niu Mou, Jing Shu, and himself.
One spoonful in, the cold cream melting on the tongue, Qian Duoduo's eyes lit up, the pleasure unmistakable. In this heat, a bite of ice cream sent coolness through the body, a physical relief. His thumb shot up. "This is real ice cream. Everything before this has been fit for dogs." The praise was extravagant.
This flavor was something his foolish son would certainly love, a battle won without a fight.
After the first bite, everyone felt as if they were standing inside a cool ice cellar, a brief escape. A satisfied breath escaped their lips, like life had peaked for a moment, a shared, silent appreciation.
"I will take this jar. Name your price," Qian Duoduo said, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin.
Do not be fooled by his blustery air of being an easy mark. This was how smart people tested others. He wanted to see how Jing Shu would charge. Would she open like a lion for a one off, or present it as a favor to make him owe a debt? The negotiation was a test of character.
"I want diesel." Jing Shu stated it plainly. "Mr. Qian can decide how much diesel this jar is worth. If the price is right, I would be happy to make this a repeat business." She passed the ball back, putting the valuation on him. Qian Duoduo could name a price, but if Jing Shu was not satisfied, the implication was clear.
Qian Duoduo picked up the walnuts from where they had rolled, dusting them off, and pondered, the clack-clack resuming. "Water is extremely scarce now, and your ice cream uses rare ingredients like pure milk and eggs. Add the unique process and preserved nutrition, which are priceless.
But you should know that one ton of crude only yields 480 liters of diesel and 310 liters of gasoline. Labor today comes with meals, and costs have gone up by a hundredfold. On value and rarity, one liter of your ice cream is absolutely worth 100 liters of diesel. I am willing to triple that. Ms. Jing, what do you say?" He laid out his logic, then made a staggering offer: one kilogram of ice cream for three hundred liters of diesel.
One kilogram of ice cream for three hundred kilograms of diesel. Jing Shu could eat that much ice cream in a day, a surreal thought. Who knew how many tons of oil Jing Shu had indirectly consumed over time through this bizarre economy.
Qian Duoduo truly had sincerity. In a few years, with petroleum tightening, would he still be so lavish? A family with a mine really was different, operating on another scale.
Jing Shu's lips curved into a genuine smile. She nodded openly. "Deal."
Both sides looked satisfied. Qian Duoduo did not lack petroleum, and he valued Jing Shu's straightforward attitude, the lack of haggling.
This first deal moved 5 liters of ice cream, the jars handed over. Jing Shu received 1.5 tons of diesel in exchange, a transaction slip passed to her. Compared with trading one black smoked pig for one ton of diesel and five tons of water, this price was far gentler, a testament to the perceived value of pleasure and nutrition.
A phrase popped into her mind: we have no middleman taking a cut, so it is cheaper. The thought was almost humorous.
In the end, Jing Shu never did see Qian Duoduo's rumored sprawl of villas covering the whole of Xishan Villa, nor the true face of the landlord's foolish son. A pity. Minister Niu Mou did, however, share quite a bit of insider news on the drive back, filling the silence with useful tidbits about power shifts and resource flows. The ice cream, it seemed, had opened more than one door.