Mr Ping was in high gear. Last night, when he had closed the Tea House, he had set the cleaning bots to work, clearing every speck of dust, every crumb, from the floor and from the tables; every splatter was now gone from the walls. The bots had been going all night, ensuring they missed nothing, and had only retired a few moments ago. This evening, the doors would be closed to the public. This evening was a Special Occasion.
Once a year, Mr Ping closed the Tea House to the public. Nothing short of a great honour would usually move him to do such a thing, and the noodle bar downstairs was still open. But tonight, the restaurant itself was sealed off, reserved for the kung fu masters of the Sphere of the White Crane, and their students. Today, it was Chinese New Year, and the martial artists gathered for a grand celebratory meal. Read More