The spring river waters warmed, and the awakened fish stirred from the water’s surface, swimming down in alarm.
Some sailor, remembering the fish, looked out and saw the water’s surface covered with fish half a man’s height long. Someone went down first with a fish spear and speared two of them, and once the first man did it, more and more followed.
The sailors who had been working the oars below deck, having been genuinely dazed, were carried up one by one to get some air, and upon regaining their senses and seeing the giant fish, they too lost their composure.
A single voyage might not earn much, but fish half a man’s length would fetch a very good price at the next port. Old Fang tried several times to stop them but couldn’t, and being also wary of the man below deck—who was most particular about principle and propriety—he could only stand aside, arms folded, wearing a fierce but helpless expression.
But the sailors all lived hard lives, and when there was money to be made from big fish, nothing else mattered to them.
Aboard the red boat, Miss Shui watched as ropes, buckets, and fish spears were lowered from the tower ship, and sailors confident in their swimming skills jumped straight into the water to catch fish.
She said with a smile, “Little noble, look how happy they are.”
Not understanding Miss Shui’s meaning, She Wanlin watched the sailors earnestly, and seeing one man throw a fish as long as his arm onto the deck to a burst of cheers, he smiled and said, “They really are happy.”
Miss Shui said, “But in the final years of the previous dynasty, any place near water was desolate and abandoned—along the Three Rivers, everywhere was overgrown with weeds, and one could travel dozens of miles by boat through thorny brush without seeing a single soul, which was quite ordinary then. In those days, this old body often wondered when a wise ruler would come to end that age of chaos.”
A sweet-faced young maid in pink came out onto the deck carrying a set of tea implements, kneeling gracefully before a small table, arranging the tea things and lighting the charcoal with elegant movements, preparing to brew tea.
She Wanlin hurriedly sat up straight and proper.
Before long, the water in the kettle on the small stove began to bubble and rattle, coming to a boil.
This time, even Zai Shi sat up straight as well.
Miss Shui’s tea-brewing movements flowed like water, a pleasure to watch. Bearing no grudge at all, she poured tea for both Zai Shi and She Wanlin, extending a cup forward and saying, “Little noble, try our tea.”
She Wanlin thanked her and reached for the cup, letting out a small sound of surprise—even before tasting it, he could already tell this tea was extraordinary.
The cup in his hand looked, at first glance, like ordinary coarse pottery, its shape even rather crude, the glaze uneven, the bottom rough and sandy. But where his thumb naturally rested, there was a small groove, and holding the cup this way brought an indescribable sense of comfort radiating outward from the heart.
A gentle warmth released from the cup, and some invisible force guided his grip so that the cup tilted naturally toward his lips. The moment the clear tea touched his throat, it warmed him first, then seemed to clear his very spirit—all in an instant. Suddenly the water sounded lovelier, the scenery grew gentler, and even the sailors bobbing about on deck seemed to grow more cheerful.
Looking again at the cup, he realized its weight was actually split in two, divided by where the thumb rested—the side facing the mouth was slightly heavier, so that the moment one held the cup, the heavier side naturally tilted toward the lips.
She Wanlin, though still young, had tasted countless fine things in his life—ordinary objects, if brought elsewhere, could easily become family heirlooms. So if he thought something was good, it truly was good.
Who would have thought that today he would be so struck by this single cup, feeling as though his past experiences had all been crude by comparison. The clear tea, once swallowed, revealed even deeper subtlety, and he found himself lulled into closing his eyes, his heart and mind filled with quiet joy.
Zai Shi spoke up. “This—could this be Tao Shiwu’s Three-Invitation Cup?”
Three invitations?
He thought about it for a moment—indeed, that was exactly it. The host’s first invitation, the thumb settling into the groove as the second invitation, the tea being delivered to the lips as the third invitation.
How marvelous—what a fitting name, the Three-Invitation Cup.
She Wanlin opened his eyes to look at him and saw Zai Shi, looking quite moved, turning the cup over in his hands. Sure enough, the characters “Shiwu” were carved on the bottom. He asked Miss Shui, astonished, “You’re willing to part with this?”
Miss Shui laughed softly, lifting the pot to pour them more tea, then said with a smile, “Why wouldn’t I be willing? A vessel exists to serve its purpose. Besides, Tao Shiwu has already joined our order—cups like this can be found nowhere else, but here on my red boat, entertaining honored guests, we’re never short of them…”
Zai Shi was first astonished, then lost his composure entirely. “What? Tao Shiwu has—has joined the red boats? How can this be? How can this be! A master craftsman of an entire generation—even as a woman, this skill alone would have made her name live on for ages. How, how could this happen?”
Miss Shui had no wish to answer this question, and instead asked She Wanlin, “Little noble, how do you find this tea?”
She Wanlin lowered his head and studied the tea’s color carefully—pale and light, its fragrance faint, neither assertive nor shy. He took another sip and nodded. “In the past, I learned quite a few flowery phrases from my elders and acquaintances at school, meant for praising tea. But now, all I can say is—it’s good.”
Miss Shui laughed. Despite her age, when she opened her mouth to laugh, all her teeth were still there, and quite white too.
Once she finished laughing, she said, “This tea is called Morning Glory, the most delightful and heart-easing of teas. It was my sister who thought that, being forced to leave home like this, you would surely be troubled along the way, so she specially brought it out for you to drink.”
She Wanlin thanked her, feeling privately ashamed—just how many people had he inconvenienced by now?
Zai Shi, meanwhile, grew astonished again. “Morning Glory? Wasn’t Zhuo Ganniang already dead? How has she become your sister?!”
This old man always had a way of saying things that irritated people. Miss Shui ignored him, not even bothering to pour him more tea, and instead said to She Wanlin, “I see the little noble’s eyes are full of confusion. Since we have the time today, let me tell you a few stories.”
She Wanlin, setting his worries aside, nodded eagerly.
The red boat was not small—clearly it had guest quarters and a kitchen in the back, and even the largest cabin could accommodate a dozen or more musicians performing and a dozen or more dancing girls. That space was said to be extravagant, and yet Miss Shui chose not to entertain the young noble there, but rather here at the bow, often washed by the waves as the boat cut through the water—a clear sign of the respect and gravity she attached to this meeting.
She Wanlin, being quick-witted, soon recognized this gesture of goodwill and thanked her once more, prompting another soft snort from Zai Shi.
Not long after, a row of clean, neat little girls of seven or eight years old came out carrying various sweets and snacks to accompany the tea. They too clearly wished to hear the story, and after setting down the refreshments, they quietly and obediently settled behind Miss Shui, kneeling as though attending a lesson, listening earnestly.
More and more fish stirred awake in the water, and the earlier bustle gradually faded into a thorough calm.
Miss Shui held her teacup and said with a smile, “This old body’s story is rather long, but it’s one I’ve long wished to tell someone…”
Seeing her cup empty, She Wanlin took the teapot from the little charcoal stove and slowly filled it for her, saying, “This young one has nothing but time these days.”
A few of the little girls giggled, and one even pulled a small pouch from her sleeve and tossed it over.
She Wanlin caught it and opened it to find a small bag of salted beans. He thanked them earnestly, and the children laughed all the harder.
Miss Shui, with graceful bearing, thanked him for the tea, then looked up and said with a smile, “I wouldn’t dare presume to be your elder. Do you know who your elders are? They are the emperor who lets his people rest and lightens their taxes, the virtuous prince who gave water-dwelling folk a real path to survival, a famed general who has protected Daliang for a generation, and Grandmother Yushu, whom we women revere above all others…”
She Wanlin quickly interrupted with a modest protest. “Please don’t say such things. I’ll be honest with you—this Grandmother Yushu you speak of, this young one doesn’t even know her.”
Nor did he know why she had come to his rescue.
Miss Shui was taken aback, and after thinking it over for a moment, her expression grew more admiring still.
She said to She Wanlin, “I see, I see, so that’s how it is. The Lady’s benevolence and compassion have always been this way. That she was willing to leave her retreat at Mount Baiquan and issue orders across the martial world must mean much the same as it did back then…”
Zai Shi snorted derisively. “A mere woman, seeing only what’s in front of her nose, understanding nothing of deeper principles. Why is it that no one else meddles in this affair, yet she alone jumps in? She understands nothing of our painstaking efforts. Have you women never considered—without our Nine Continents Domain, would this martial world even remain a martial world?”
Miss Shui shot back, “And what use do we women have for this so-called martial world of yours?”
She Wanlin, hearing this exchange, couldn’t quite work it out, and asked Miss Shui loudly, “This… this…”
Should he call her “sister” or “auntie”?
(Note: I’ve already resolved this repeated line above—continuing from where the narrative proceeds.)
Zai Shi had been meaning to argue further, but after hearing this speech, the bias in his eyes finally gave way to something more thoughtful and grave.
Miss Shui, hearing this, was stunned for a long moment, then broke into a warm smile, reaching out to pat She Wanlin’s head. “This old body now understands why that old monk is fond of you. And not just him—I’m fond of you too. If everyone in this world were even a little more generous toward women as you are, there would be no Tao Shiwu, locked away in the inner quarters, forbidden to marry, forced to fire pottery to be sold on her brother’s and father’s behalf; nor would there be Zhuo Ganniang, drowned by her own clan for wanting to try growing a new variety of tea, simply because she was a woman.”
She Wanlin, quite fond of Miss Shui, seeing her sigh with such sorrow, patiently comforted her. “But you have a guiding light in your heart—Grandmother Yushu!”
At this, Miss Shui burst out laughing again, though her injury made the laughter turn into a coughing fit before she could speak. “That’s right, that’s right! But that story takes us far afield. Let’s start from the beginning. Back when the previous dynasty fell, the land was littered with the starving dead, the population thin, the realm desolate everywhere. In those very early years, even that Nine Continents Domain behind you went into hiding, and Huguo Temple stopped protecting the nation too…”
“Amitabha, honored guests, speaking ill of others behind their backs is never proper. Now that the fighting has stopped, please spare this little monk.” A single utterance of the Buddha’s name, and She Wanlin’s eyes lit up. He turned his head, searching, until he saw, not far off on the water’s surface, a handsome monk in patchwork robes standing atop a reed stalk, one hand behind his back, the other holding an early-spring willow branch still bearing leaves, smiling broadly as he approached.
“Little monk! What are you doing here?”
“Amitabha, Little Prince, this monk has already grown up. The old monk’s robes have grown too small by a good margin—even if this humble monk wished to remain a ‘little monk,’ he no longer could…”
“Monk, are you going to argue with me again?”