It was a tea room of quiet elegance. The window panels were half-open, the bamboo curtains half-drawn, and light fell through the gaps in the curtain, layering softly across the tea table in a gentle haze. To one side sat an antique incense burner sending thin curls of smoke spiraling upward, with orchids planted in a bamboo tube — their stems vivid green, their petals the color of crimson silk. On the other side, a wind furnace, a tea kettle, a tea strainer, teacups, and a tea ladle were arranged in order. Water was already bubbling in the kettle, its sound weaving in and out with the rain outside in a kind of conversation.
Lin Sui’an noticed that there was no tea grinder or tea cake on the table — only a celadon-green canister of loose leaf tea. By its scent, it was the Hundred-Flower Tea for which Cheng County was known, but unlike the lower and middle grades she had seen in the teahouse before, these leaves were far more intact, the color a more vivid green, interspersed with dried and curled white flower petals. This was top-grade Hundred-Flower Tea.
Across from her, Qiu Wen sat in a wide-sleeved robe, his hair and beard as white as snow, seated upright amid the wisps of steam — a picture of an immortal elder. With a pair of tea tongs, he leisurely pinched out two small clusters of tea leaves and scattered them carefully into the boiling kettle, then used two fingers to slowly stir with the tea ladle. Before long, a rich, fragrant scent drifted out. Lin Sui’an found herself unexpectedly anticipating what was to come — could it be that she was finally going to have a proper cup of tea today?
Just as the tea was nearly ready, Qiu Wen suddenly pulled open a drawer beneath the tea table, placed several small bottles and jars on the surface, opened them in sequence, and with the tongs began sprinkling their contents into the kettle with a shhh-shhh sound.
Lin Sui’an’s expression fell.
Whatever was in those bottles and jars was clearly some kind of spice or seasoning. With each new addition, the color of the tea water shifted — from clear to murky, murky to jade green, jade green to ink green, to pale blue, then deep blue, blue-violet, and finally brown — until at last, black bubbles began to rise to the surface.
If the master of Xiande Manor before her hadn’t had the perfectly ordinary face of a native Tang person, Lin Sui’an might have genuinely suspected he and Ita were related.
“My tea artistry is crude — do forgive me for the spectacle,” Qiu Wen said, pouring out the tea and holding a cup toward Lin Sui’an with both hands. “Please.”
Lin Sui’an’s eye twitched. She had no way to avoid it with him staring straight at her — she gritted her teeth, held her breath, and downed the tea in one gulp. Heavens. Compared to Ita’s handiwork, this deserved to be called a masterpiece of the same terrible school — bitterness, heat, spice, and sourness surged backward up her throat, carrying the distinct aroma of something that had already been digested.
“I don’t believe I know how to address you, young friend,” Qiu Wen said, ladling out another cup of tea and sliding it toward Lin Sui’an. “What does your family do for a living?”
Lin Sui’an paused. He had called her “Lady Fang” just a moment ago — so why was he now asking her surname again?
But Qiu Wen’s expression was open and sincere, with no apparent pretense. Could this perhaps be a formal ritual of tea ceremony — requiring a proper re-introduction once the tea was served?
Lin Sui’an: “My surname is Fang. My family runs a medical clinic.”
Qiu Wen made a sound of acknowledgment, stroked his beard, and smiled. “Cheng County holds physicians in the highest esteem. I imagine your family’s business must be flourishing?”
Lin Sui’an: “……”
Pardon?
“There are eight medical clinics and six apothecaries in Cheng County, and the proprietors of all of them are old friends of mine. If you would not think it presumptuous, young friend, I would be happy to arrange for you to meet these proprietors and exchange knowledge of medicine.” Qiu Wen said with a smile.
What was going on?
All the clinics in Cheng County except for Fang Clinic had shut down — not to mention the apothecaries.
Lin Sui’an was inwardly startled. She glanced toward the doorway.
Ever since Qiu Wen had invited her for tea, Qiu Bo had hovered like a shadow, following them all the way to the tea room. He was now standing guard at the doorway. When he noticed Lin Sui’an looking at him, he hurriedly shook his head, pointed at Qiu Wen, then tapped the side of his own head, then shook his head again.
Lin Sui’an’s eyes went wide.
Could it be —
“In all honesty, the tea leaves I’m using were given to me by a secret recipe from Proprietor Zhu of Zhu’s Apothecary,” Qiu Wen said, indicating the jars on the table with a smile. “These are all rare medicinal herbs — ground fine on a stone mill. Mixed into the tea at different ratios over a slow fire, they produce a medicinal tea brew, its fragrance rich, its color like precious jade — and so I’ve named it ‘Fragrant Jade.'”
Lin Sui’an immediately broke into a cold sweat and quickly held her breath, checking her body’s reactions. Fortunately, there were no signs of poisoning.
Qiu Wen stroked his beard with a gentle smile, gazing out at the fine, unceasing rain beyond the window. “I haven’t seen them in quite a while. They must be busy these days with their charitable medicine rounds —” He sighed softly, then turned back to Lin Sui’an. “I don’t believe I know how to address you, young friend?”
Lin Sui’an: “……”
She understood now. This old Manor Lord was almost certainly suffering from Alzheimer’s.
“My surname is Fang,” Lin Sui’an said again.
Qiu Wen nodded. “Young Friend Fang has impressive skills. May I ask who your teacher is?”
Lin Sui’an: “I was born with great physical strength. I’ve never trained under anyone.”
Qiu Wen made an “oh” of understanding. “My younger brother, Qiu Liang, was also born with extraordinary strength — could carry several full vats of water all by himself. A few days ago, the clan sent him away to sit for the civil examinations. He’s been gone a long while — I don’t know when he’ll return. I miss him terribly.”
Qiu Liang. Lin Sui’an remembered — that was the name of the county magistrate of Cheng County.
So Qiu Liang was this Manor Lord Qiu’s younger brother.
Lin Sui’an felt a pang of disappointment. She had hoped to glean some useful leads from Qiu Wen’s mouth, but it was clear now that his memory was muddled — no use asking him anything.
“Young friend, why aren’t you drinking your tea? Do you find it not to your taste?” Qiu Wen said warmly. “You may not know, young friend, but the tea I’m using is Cheng County’s prized Hundred-Flower Tea — paired with these rare medicinal herbs, brewed slowly over a low flame for a quarter of an hour, it produces a most extraordinary medicinal tea. Its fragrance is rich, its color like precious jade, and so I’ve named it ‘Fragrant Jade.'”
With that, he slid the cup closer to Lin Sui’an. “Do try it.”
Lin Sui’an was in agony, cup in hand, frantically sending distress signals to Qiu Bo at the door. Qiu Bo also seemed rather anxious, repeatedly twisting his head to look out into the courtyard — as if waiting for someone.
“Oh dear — I’ve been thoughtless. Young friend, I still don’t know your name,” Qiu Wen asked again. “What does your family do for a living?”
Lin Sui’an: Help me!
Suddenly, Qiu Bo’s expression lit up with visible relief. He bowed toward the doorway and addressed someone outside as “Manor Lord.” Immediately after, a lean man, about six feet tall and dressed in a black brocade robe, came striding in. He knelt at Qiu Wen’s side and said quietly, “Uncle, I’ve come.”
The lean man had a sharp, pinched face with a sly look — the sort of appearance people might call impoverished or shifty. But his clothes were meticulous. The black brocade was woven with hidden patterns that faintly shimmered even in the dimness of the room. He wore a black jade hairpin capped with gold filigree. The jade belt at his waist was of uncertain material — smooth-lustrous, warm to look at, possibly agate.
Lin Sui’an felt a flicker of recognition. Thinking back, she placed it: the first time she had gone to make an offering at Dragon God Temple, this man had been standing at Shanren Xuanming’s side. At the time, Zhu Dachang had appeared to address him as “Manor Lord.”
So it turned out this was Qiu Wen’s nephew.
Qiu Wen looked at the lean man. His gaze dimmed for a moment, then brightened again. He smiled and patted the lean man on the head affectionately. “Little Hong is here. Look — today I found a young friend to drink tea with me.” He turned to Lin Sui’an again. “Young friend, I still don’t know your name or where you’re from?”
The lean man frowned and looked over, his expression none too pleasant.
Lin Sui’an felt a touch of awkwardness, unsure whether she ought to respond.
“Uncle, this young friend still has business to attend to. Let me keep you company with your books.” The lean man helped Qiu Wen to his feet and guided him toward the inner room. The inner and outer rooms were separated by a large decorative screen painted with wintersweet blossoms — the red of the petals muted, almost like dried blood. Through the screen, one could vaguely make out a bed, a wardrobe, and bookshelves in the inner room.
“Lady Fang — come quickly!” Qiu Bo waved urgently from the doorway.
Lin Sui’an immediately got up and slipped out. Qiu Bo signaled for silence, then walked briskly out of Qiu Wen’s courtyard. The courtyard was far removed from the training ground, connected only by a single narrow path. They walked that path for a quarter of an hour, passing through a round corner gate and a small garden, before rejoining the main covered walkway.
Lin Sui’an: “Who exactly was that man just now?”
Qiu Bo sighed. “The one you just saw is the old Manor Lord — the previous master of the Qiu clan.”
Lin Sui’an tapped the side of her head. “Is the old Manor Lord perhaps a bit —”
“The old Manor Lord is seventy-three. Two years ago he began to drift — he can still remember things from long ago, but recent events, not a single one.” Qiu Bo shook his head. “The clan had no choice but to select a new Manor Lord and let the old one live out his years comfortably here at Xiande Manor.”
“And the man who came in afterward — that must be the current Qiu clan master?”
Qiu Bo nodded. “Remember this well — in the presence of the Manor Lord, be careful what you say and stay quiet.”
Lin Sui’an blinked. “Does the Manor Lord have a bad temper?”
“Ah, the manor has so much to manage and every matter requires the Manor Lord’s personal attention, and yet he still has to set aside time each day to keep the old Manor Lord company for tea and reading. The Manor Lord works too hard —”
“The current master of the Qiu clan, Qiu Hong, also the current lord of Xiande Manor — narrow face, sharp features, a shifty appearance, and a temper that swings without warning,” Jin Ruo said, placing a white sugar pastry on the plate to represent Qiu Hong, then jabbing it twice with a chopstick. “The Qiu clan members don’t so much respect him as fear him.”
Lin Sui’an shook her head. “He looks fairly ordinary. I wouldn’t go so far as to say shifty.”
Jin Ruo: “Those weren’t my words — that’s what Ita said.”
Ita raised her hand. “Little Fish said it.”
“The old Manor Lord, however, I find rather intriguing,” Hua Yitang mused, tapping his chin with his fan. “Why would he repeatedly say the same things? Could there be some hidden meaning?”
Lin Sui’an: “……”
Evidently, the concept of Alzheimer’s disease hadn’t reached this era yet.
“Never mind the old man. Surname Hua — what did you get from Four-Sides Workshop?” Jin Ruo asked.
“A great deal!” Hua Yitang said with a serious expression.
Everyone sat up straighter, ears pricking with interest.
“I discovered that —” Hua Yitang drew in a breath, “— the embroidery work at Four-Sides Workshop is truly — a — complete — disaster!”
Everyone: “……”
Hua Yitang raised one finger at a time, his face a mask of contempt as he went through each failing in order. “To begin with, the thread-spinning technique is far too crude, resulting in inconsistent thickness throughout all the thread, and insufficient tensile strength. Weaving cloth with such thread leaves the warp and weft gaps too wide, and the fabric is almost entirely of substandard quality. Embroidering on such fabric compounds the problem further — the stitches are a chaotic mess, the color combinations are gaudy to the point of vulgarity, and the finished pieces are simply unbearable to look at. The embroidery patterns I drew with my own hands being used on such work is nothing less than a desecration of the highest order!”
At that last line, Hua Yitang almost launched himself onto the table — Mu Xia quickly whisked the chicken soup to one side before he could send it flying.
Everyone pressed their hands to their foreheads simultaneously.
Lin Sui’an said, pained, “Hua Yitang, can you say something useful?”
“What’s even more absurd — Auntie Zhu claims their embroidered goods sell widely in Guangdu, Dongdu, Yangdu, and even Yidu, and are quite popular. Absolute rubbish — does she think people will just believe any nonsense? Work of that caliber couldn’t even make it onto the shelves of our Hua Family Embroidery House, let alone into Yidu, where the finest needlework in all the Tang nation comes from. If work like that could actually sell in Yidu, I’ll write the character ‘Hua’ upside down for the rest of my life!”
Jin Ruo: “Master, is Four-Sides Workshop’s embroidery really that bad?”
Lin Sui’an: “It’s just some flowers stitched onto cloth. I didn’t think it was bad.”
Fangke: “Perhaps they sell to ordinary folk. Durability is all that matters then — no one needs fine workmanship.”
Jin Ruo: “Exactly — Surname Hua is just being impossibly picky.”
Hua Yitang appeared to have heard none of the three of them, his indignation only mounting as he continued. “And what’s even more outrageous — Auntie Zhu said their purchase price for an embroidered piece measuring five units square is fifty coins. Fifty coins!”
Ita: “So expensive!”
Mu Xia: “That doesn’t add up. At Hua Family Embroidery House, the retail price for a piece of the same size is ten coins for low-grade work, fifteen for mid-grade, twenty for high-grade. If purchasing from an outside embroiderer, the price is ten coins for five low-grade pieces, twenty for five mid-grade pieces, and thirty for five high-grade pieces. Going by Four-Sides Workshop’s purchase price, adding in transportation, rental, and labor costs, the retail price per piece would need to be at least thirty coins just to break even.”
“All substandard goods, and they’re paying higher prices than Hua Family charges for quality work,” Hua Yitang let out three sharp laughs — “Ha! Ha! Ha!” — “Anyone with a brain would know that’s complete nonsense!”
Jin Ruo: “Surname Hua, could it be that someone was pulling your leg?”
Fangke: “Why would Four-Sides Workshop bother deceiving Hua Yitang? What would be the point?”
Hua Yitang had finally talked himself out, let out a long breath, and sat back down. Mu Xia brought over chicken broth and steamed buns. Hua Yitang took a large bite of a bun, his cheek bulging, and spoke around it: “Tomorrow I’ll find a way to look at Four-Sides Workshop’s accounts. If it’s all hot air, one look and it’ll show. But if it isn’t hot air —” he swallowed the bun and furrowed his brow — “then there’s another possibility —”
Lin Sui’an: “What Four-Sides Workshop is really selling isn’t embroidery at all. It’s something else entirely.”
The mood in the room shifted sharply.
Zhu’s mother had said Four-Sides Workshop’s business had always depended on the patronage of Xiande Manor — and Xiande Manor and Dragon God Temple were in league with each other. In other words, what they were truly selling, in all likelihood, was Dragon God Fruit.
Fangke let out a quiet sigh, reached into his robe, and produced a small white porcelain vial, which he held out to Lin Sui’an. Lin Sui’an couldn’t help shuddering slightly, eyeing it with residual dread before she could bring herself to take it. “May I ask, Dr. Fang, what’s inside this —”
“An antidote I’ve just formulated for Dragon God Fruit poisoning. The reagent isn’t complete yet, so the effect may be a little slow,” Fangke said. “Take it as a precaution.”
The circles under Fangke’s eyes were three shades darker than usual — clearly the fruit of many sleepless nights burning the midnight oil. A rush of warmth moved through Lin Sui’an’s chest. She accepted it solemnly. “Many thanks!”
Hua Yitang came skipping over and held out his hand.
Fangke: “What?”
“And mine?”
Fangke shot him a look. “You’ve already been marinated in spices to the bone. You don’t need one.”
Hua Yitang was deeply unhappy, and sat off to the side muttering under his breath — the words didn’t sound complimentary.
Lin Sui’an found it amusing. She shook the vial and heard the sound of several pills inside, then tipped out two and held them toward Hua Yitang. “Here — two for you.”
Hua Yitang looked at Lin Sui’an, then at Fangke. Fangke rolled his eyes, stood up, patted himself off, and walked away. Hua Yitang’s cheeks puffed out in irritation, and he stuffed both pills back into the vial.
Lin Sui’an blinked. “You really don’t want them?”
“I was born under a lucky star — blessed with great fortune and a charmed life,” Hua Yitang said, placing the vial back in Lin Sui’an’s palm. “Keep them all.”
Lin Sui’an smiled. “Thanks.”
Fangke would not have withheld the antidote from Hua Yitang without a very specific reason. She trusted Dr. Fang’s professional judgment.
Thinking this, Lin Sui’an moved to put away the antidote — and found her wrist caught by Hua Yitang. In the split second before she could react, she saw him produce a small pink porcelain jar, pull out the stopper with his teeth, dip a silk handkerchief into the medicinal ointment inside, and carefully dab it across Lin Sui’an’s fingertips.
Lin Sui’an was startled. “What are you doing?”
“You were hurt.”
Only then did she remember what her so-called “injury” was — and when she looked at her fingertips, the needle punctures had long since healed without a trace. She couldn’t help feeling both amused and helpless.
“They’re already healed.”
“Healed or not, the ointment still goes on,” the stubborn young man declared. “You should have told me.”
Lin Sui’an tried to pull her fingers back. Hua Yitang’s grip tightened. She tilted her head to look — his eye corners were faintly flushed, his long lashes cast low, lips pressed together, like someone nursing a profound and undeserved grievance.
Oh well. Let him be.
That was Lin Sui’an’s resigned conclusion.
Hua Yitang’s fingertips were warm — like jade that had been sitting in sunlight. Even through the silk handkerchief, the heat was palpable, trembling faintly as it passed over her skin, like the wings of a butterfly in motion. For the first time, Lin Sui’an truly understood the meaning of the phrase “the ten fingers are connected to the heart” — the sensation was too ticklish, and that tickle traveled all the way inward, past skin and bone, straight into her chest.
Mu Xia, Jin Ruo, and Ita had slipped away at some unknown moment. The room was perfectly still, the only sound the water dripping from the eaves onto the flagstones in a rhythmic, tinkling patter. Lin Sui’an found herself unable to speak. She could feel something warm beginning to stir inside the dark chamber of her heart, taking one slow step at a time toward the light. Time felt as though it had been folded into fresh honey — luminous and viscous, carrying the faintest sweetness.
After what felt like roughly a century — or so Lin Sui’an thought — Hua Yitang finally finished applying the ointment. He tucked both the small jar and Fangke’s medicine vial into Lin Sui’an’s palm — then suddenly sprang to his feet, his sleeves flying, and bolted.
Lin Sui’an stood motionless for a long moment, then tried to flex her fingers. They had gone completely stiff.
Bonus scene:
Hua Yitang fled back to his room, face blazing red. He dove under the covers, buried his head, and let out a muffled series of sounds. Then he suddenly threw the covers back, snickered to himself twice, and dove under again.
Mu Xia, crouched outside the door, pumped his fist in silent triumph: As expected — telling Fourth Master that Lin Niangzi’s fingers were hurt was absolutely the right call!