Westerners preferred black tea because its flavor was richer, stronger, and darker, making it well suited for sugar, honey, and milk.
In their eyes, green tea was too bland and tasteless, not a proper drink for entertaining guests. Americans were especially fond of sweets, so most shops here did not sell green tea. Since arriving here, Schiller had not had any decent green tea either.
But Schiller lowered his head to look at the teacup and tea leaves in his hand, then savored the taste lingering in his mouth.
The pre-Qingming tea of Dongting Biluochun had a powerful fragrance and a freshness unlike that of any other green tea. The sparrow-tongue leaves churned through the water like clouds and waves. It was clearly the most authentic Biluochun, a flavor Schiller had not tasted in a long time.
He turned to Walt, who childishly shook his head and said, "It seems someone isn't very interested in my story."
Schiller merely stared straight at him.
Walt tilted his head, glanced at Schiller over the tops of his eyes, and revealed an inscrutable smile.
Schiller narrowed his eyes.
But Walt shook his head and said, "I don't have your story here, but I can tell you mine."
"I wasn't born into a wealthy family, but I had an innate talent for making up stories. I devoted my entire life to creating them, hoping my stories could bring happiness to more people."
"When I learned that I was gravely ill and did not have long to live, what saddened me most was not death itself, but the fact that I would no longer be able to create happiness in this world."
"I did not live to see the opening day of Orlando Disney World. I knew that would become my greatest regret, and whenever