“Is this what you called the golden rice bowl?” Yun Zhong Yue asked.

“Precisely!” Hua Yitang replied.

Yun Zhong Yue rolled his eyes, his expression saying: I can’t believe a word you say!

After returning from the county jail, Hua Yitang wasted no time summoning several heavyweight guests to the county office’s main hall, declaring that he would present to everyone the “golden rice bowl” that could lift Cheng County out of poverty.

At this very moment, the secret御史 Lin Sui’an, the Senior Adjudicator of the Court of Justice Ling Zhiyan, the Court of Justice coroner Fangke, the acting Gate Master of the Pure Gate Jin Ruo, the world’s greatest thief Yun Zhong Yue, Cheng County Magistrate Qiu Liang, and Chief Secretary Zhu Dachang were all seated in a circle around the table, eyes fixed eagerly upon a small cluster of Hundred-Flower Tea arranged on a white porcelain dish.

Although it was called Hundred-Flower Tea, it was rather different from the tea sold before. The Hundred-Flower Tea that Little Fish had previously sold was simply wild mountain tea left to air-dry — the production method was extremely crude. But the tea before them now had tightly curled buds, slender and firm twisted leaves, vivid colors, clean and clear, free of crumbled leaves or impurities, and carrying a faint fragrance of tea and flowers. In both its form and color, it bore little resemblance to the tea cakes that had swept Tang in popularity.

Ling Zhiyan: “Is this — tea?”

Yun Zhong Yue: “Looks like low-grade loose tea to me.”

Jin Ruo pinched one bud and rolled it between his fingers. “It doesn’t quite look like loose tea.”

This is tea! Lin Sui’an cried inwardly. Real, genuine tea!

Magistrate Qiu Liang’s eyes brimmed with tears — he was likely thinking of his brother Qiu Wen.

Hua Yitang noticed Lin Sui’an’s expression, his eyes curving into warm crescents. “Would you like to try some?”

Lin Sui’an nodded her head vigorously.

Ita and Mu Xia carried in trays, setting down the tea cups and the kettle one by one. Each person had only a clean white porcelain cup in front of them; the water in the kettle steamed faintly. Beyond that, there were no spices, no tea grinder, no tea strainer — none of the implements typically used in tea preparation. Mu Xia used rosewood tea tongs to place a few tea leaves into each person’s cup, then ladled boiling water and poured it in one by one.

The curled tea buds tumbled in the water, slowly unfurling, graceful as the silken ribbons of a dancer in motion. The color of the leaves grew more vivid, as if they had come alive within the water. In moments, the tea in the white porcelain cups began to take on color — translucent and bright, like a pool of clear amber.

Everyone’s eyes went wide at once. They glanced at each other, no one daring to try it first.

Lin Sui’an couldn’t wait. She lifted her cup and took a sip, her nose tingling, nearly moved to tears.

The first taste was faintly bitter, but as it slipped down her throat, a subtle sweetness followed. With the second sip, the flavor was mellow and rich, the finish clean and refreshing. Most importantly — there was no Sichuan peppercorn, no garlic, no scallions, no citrus peel, no pig intestine, no duck tongue, no chestnut shells, no Persian spices. The taste was neither sweet nor salty, neither sour nor spicy. After just one cup, her chest felt expansive, her mind light with pleasure, every pore on her body seemed to open and breathe.

“How does it taste?” Hua Yitang asked.

Lin Sui’an gave a thumbs up. “Extraordinary!”

Hua Yitang broke into a smile as brilliant as a flower in bloom.

Ita’s large sapphire-blue eyes rippled with wave upon wave of warmth. “Pig-person’s first time — like it, happy.”

Zhu Dachang’s eyes lit up and he drained another cup. Fangke’s face stretched long with displeasure; he firmly refused a second sip — clearly the doctor with his bold tastes could not appreciate it.

Ling Zhiyan: “Quite excellent!”

Yun Zhong Yue: “Drinkable enough.”

Jin Ruo: “Far better than that foul-tasting tea broth from before!”

Magistrate Qiu Liang wore an expression of pure disbelief. He sipped slowly, taking several careful tastes. “Is this truly our Cheng County’s Hundred-Flower Tea? It tastes completely different — it’s actually better than the spring tea from Guangdu. How did you manage this, Deputy Hua?”

Hua Yitang waved his small fan with pride. “This has nothing to do with me — it’s all thanks to my Ita!”

With that, he held the fan behind Ita and fluttered it a couple of times, like a peacock spreading its dazzling tail feathers.

Ita stood up, held up one finger, and said: “Five.”

Mu Xia, the master translator, stepped in: “Making this Hundred-Flower Tea requires five steps.”

Ita raised a delicate curved finger and mimicked the pose of someone picking tea leaves. “Little Fish picks — leaves — must be tender.”

Mu Xia: “Little Fish is responsible for picking the tea — only the most tender top buds.”

Ita spread both arms wide. “Sun evenly—” then fanned her arms slowly a couple of times — “wilt away.”

Mu Xia: “The freshly picked buds must be spread evenly in the sunlight to let the stems and leaves wither, driving off the raw grassy smell.”

Ita rippled both palms in a wave-like motion. “Stir-fry a little.”

Mu Xia: “After air-drying, the tea leaves are placed in a hot pan and tossed by hand continuously to remove their astringency.”

Ita pressed both hands into loose fists beside her cheeks, like a little cat pawing its face. “Roll and rub.”

Mu Xia: “The tea leaves are then rolled and twisted by hand into curled shapes — the leaf juice squeezed out coats the surface of the leaves, making the brewed tea richer in flavor.”

Ita pressed both palms together and tilted them beside her ear. “Sunbathe — sleep.”

Mu Xia: “The rolled leaves are then spread flat in the sun once more and dried for approximately twenty-four hours.”

Ita mimicked Lin Sui’an’s earlier gesture and raised her right thumb. “Done.”

Mu Xia raised her left thumb. “And thus — a fine tea is born!”

A golden-haired, bright-eyed young man and a clear-featured youth performing in perfect tandem — Lin Sui’an felt her heart melting.

Too adorable!

Not only Lin Sui’an — stars had bloomed in everyone’s eyes. They all broke into applause.

Only Yun Zhong Yue threw cold water on it: “What’s so remarkable about this? Aside from not grinding the leaves into powder, it’s not much different from tea cakes.”

Ita heard this and was immediately furious. “A huge difference! Before — had to be boiled and boiled — Pig-person no like. Now just needs water — Pig-person like — mighty!”

Yun Zhong Yue laughed helplessly despite himself. “So this so-called — Pig-person — would be?”

Lin Sui’an shot him a cold, imperious glare. “That would be me. Do you have a problem with that?”

Yun Zhong Yue hurriedly gave a thumbs up. “Excellent tea! Excellent name! Excellent Pig-person!”

Fangke and Jin Ruo both burst out snickering at the same moment. “Honestly.”

Ling Zhiyan swirled his tea cup gently. “This tea is indeed quite good, but compared to the many celebrated teas of Tang, it still falls somewhat short. How does Fourth Young Master Hua believe this tea can become Cheng County’s golden rice bowl?”

Hua Yitang’s smile couldn’t have been more triumphant. “Because Lin Sui’an likes it.”

Ling Zhiyan’s back went completely stiff with shock. Everyone rolled their eyes in unison: You’ve said enough!

Lin Sui’an, however, hadn’t taken his meaning in any other direction at all. She understood his implication immediately and asked with genuine interest, “How do you intend to sell this tea?”

Hua Yitang held up one finger. “Four coins per liang.”

Everyone: “What?!”

Jin Ruo: “Hua, have you lost your mind?! The most ordinary low-grade tea cake on the market runs at least one hundred and eighty coins per block, and even coarsely broken low-grade loose tea goes for twenty coins a liang — and you’re charging four coins? Who in the world are you planning to sell this to at that price—” At this, Jin Ruo suddenly sucked in a sharp breath. “Don’t tell me—”

“My, my — Little Jin Ruo truly has a sharp mind, grasps things in an instant.” Hua Yitang swept his robes aside and settled next to Lin Sui’an, poured himself a cup of Hundred-Flower Tea, took a sip, and narrowed his eyes in satisfaction — like a large Samoyed dog sunning its fur in the afternoon light. “The people I intend to sell to are not those refined scholars, noble families, and aristocrats who brew tea while listening to music for cultured amusement — they are the common people of the fields, the markets, and the alleyways.”

Everyone exchanged glances. After a long pause, Magistrate Qiu Liang finally uttered: “But — poor people don’t drink tea.”

“Does that mean poor people don’t deserve to drink tea?” Hua Yitang’s gaze darkened suddenly. “Why not?!“

The hall fell silent at once.

Lin Sui’an stared wide-eyed. Those words sounded strangely familiar — they were almost exactly the question she had voiced when she first encountered loose tea in the Eastern Capital.

She hadn’t expected Hua Yitang to remember it so precisely.

“Poor people do not drink tea because of three difficulties. First difficulty: tea is too expensive. Second difficulty: tea preparation is too complicated. Third difficulty: they cannot stomach the taste.” Hua Yitang’s fan went tap-tap-tap as he waved it. “A single high-grade tea cake costs two hundred coins. A dou of millet costs forty coins. One coin buys three eggs. One tea cake is worth five dou of millet — six hundred eggs. The standard daily ration for an adult male laborer in Tang is two sheng of grain per day, or six dou per month. In other words, one tea cake costs almost the equivalent of a grown man’s entire monthly income. Add to that the dozens of tea implements needed for brewing — that’s another considerable expense. By this reckoning, ordinary households simply cannot afford it.”

“Secondly, the current method of brewing tea is far too complicated. Preparing a single kettle of tea takes at minimum half an hour, often a full hour. Common people spend their days laboring for their livelihoods — they simply don’t have the leisure to circle a tea kettle hour after hour. And third—” Hua Yitang swept his gaze around the room, blinking his large eyes — “do any of you actually think the way tea is currently brewed tastes good?”

Magistrate Qiu Liang looked up at the ceiling. Yun Zhong Yue stared at the sky. Lin Sui’an, Jin Ruo, and Zhu Dachang shook their heads like rattles.

Ling Zhiyan rubbed his nose. “Everyone enjoys it, so it must taste good—” but even as he said it, he sounded less than certain.

Only Fangke was perfectly resolute: “Delicious!”

Unfortunately, Dr. Fang’s peculiar taste was something the rest of the company truly could not endorse.

Hua Yitang flashed a full smile of gleaming white teeth. “But our Hundred-Flower Tea is different. Four coins per liang — forty coins for ten liang. The price of one dou of millet is enough to supply a family for half a year. The brewing method is simple: just pour in boiling water. There are no particular requirements for the vessel — a clay pot, a rough bowl, a wooden ladle will all do. Bring a pot to the fields for even greater pleasure. Most importantly, this tea is refreshing and gently sweet, with a wonderful taste! With such excellent quality at such an affordable price — how could one’s heart not stir?”

Everyone swallowed at the same time.

Lin Sui’an thought: Whether or not anyone else’s heart is stirring, she herself was ready to pre-order a year’s supply right now. Good heavens — she was finally going to be free of this era’s wretched, miserable brewed tea.

“Deputy Hua, please forgive this old fool’s ignorance — I have one more question,” Magistrate Qiu Liang raised his hand. “Can you actually make money selling this tea so cheaply?”

Hua Yitang snapped his fan shut with a sharp crack. “Well asked! Do any of you know how many tea cakes the Hua Family’s tea houses and tea shops in Yangdu sell in a single year?”

Everyone shook their heads.

Hua Yitang was just about to answer when he suddenly caught himself and swallowed the words back down.

Close call — he’d gotten so caught up in the excitement he’d nearly revealed the Hua Family’s trade secrets. If his eldest brother ever found out, he would certainly have him drawn and quartered and left to rot in the wilderness.

“Ahem — that’s not the important part. What matters is: does anyone here know what the ratio is between the nobility and scholars who drink tea and the common folk who don’t, in Tang?”

Everyone shook their heads again.

Ling Zhiyan: “The gap is vast — perhaps one in ten thousand.”

“Ling Sixth Young Master is exactly right! And that is where the market for Hundred-Flower Tea lies!” Hua Yitang’s eyes blazed with excitement. “The old tea cakes sold to the one. The new Hundred-Flower Tea sells to the ten thousand!“

Everyone gasped in unison.

“Our tea is inexpensive, yes, but the sales volume will be hundreds, thousands of times greater than tea cakes. The profit per liang may be small, but with high volume and low margin, I have done the simple calculation — with a sales scale this enormous, the profits will be incalculable!”

Zhu Dachang swallowed hard. “Is — is it really that straightforward?”

Hua Yitang grinned, showing his teeth. “Naturally, it’s not that straightforward.”

With that, he produced a scroll from his sleeve and unfurled it. Mu Xia swiftly cleared the table, and the scroll was spread flat. Everyone fixed their gazes upon it: the scroll ran to several hundred pages, dense with text interspersed with maps, tables, and diagrams of indeterminate lines. As the breeze turned the pages, splashes of color fluttered like countless butterflies fanning their wings. The cover bore several large characters: “Cheng County Hundred-Flower Tea Strategic Compendium.”

The more everyone looked, the more their astonishment grew. Without realizing it, their mouths had all fallen open. The way they now looked at Hua Yitang had changed entirely — as if the person before them was no longer the worthless, carefree number-one wastrel of Yangdu, but a breathing, living God of Wealth.

Lin Sui’an most of all. She knew a thing or two about modern business strategy, and what Hua Yitang had compiled, translated into modern terms, was nothing less than a “Cheng County Hundred-Flower Tea Product Plan (Five-Year Edition)” — covering production, storage, packaging, logistics, sales channels, target market analysis, feasibility analysis, and after-sale service. The thoroughness of the plan, the precision of its details, was enough to make even someone from the modern era feel humbled by comparison.

More remarkable still, this plan — equal parts ambition and meticulous precision — was no mere theoretical exercise. It was entirely actionable, entirely executable. Following this roadmap, Cheng County wouldn’t merely escape poverty — it could ascend Tang’s wealth rankings. No wonder Hua Yitang had mocked Qiu Hong for “begging with a golden bowl in hand.” As Lin Sui’an understood it now, this wasn’t a golden bowl at all — it was a golden mountain.

Something like this could only be produced by a fourth son of the Hua Family — someone who had the vast financial resources of the Hua Family behind him and had grown up immersed in countless real-world commercial case studies since childhood.

Take the production phase, for instance: based on factors such as climate, temperature, and vegetation distribution, Hua Yitang had identified dozens of regions within Cheng County and across Qingzhou suitable for Hundred-Flower Tea cultivation. He had proposed the concept of cultivated tea gardens, established standardized processes for picking and processing, and placed special emphasis on strictly guarding the secret production method — had the era permitted it, he would have gone and filed a patent. The Hua Family clearly had extensive experience in this regard. For logistics, accounting for Cheng County’s unique geographic position, he proposed constructing two new transport roads — and the generous party tasked with funding the road construction happened to be none other than the Bai Family of Qingzhou.

And there was more: Hua Yitang had even planned out the brand image. The Hundred-Flower Tea was to be traced back to a legend of the Flower Deity of the heavens defeating the Dragon God’s evil influence, and the tea would be credited with the power to clear the mind, sharpen the senses, strengthen the body, and, with regular consumption, drive out toxins and extend one’s years. At first hearing it sounded somewhat far-fetched — but considered more carefully, well, every single claim turned out to be perfectly true.

The sales channel was the most inventive stroke of all. To minimize costs as much as possible, in addition to selling through the Hua Family’s existing tea houses and tea shops, the primary distribution channel for Hundred-Flower Tea turned out to be — the Pure Gate.

Jin Ruo: “You want the disciples of the Pure Gate to sell Hundred-Flower Tea?”

Hua Yitang: “The disciples of the Pure Gate are mostly street vendors and peddlers who go door to door. They know ordinary people best and are closest to them. Having Pure Gate disciples sell the tea achieves two things at once: first, costs remain low; second, the Pure Gate gains a considerable additional income stream. One stone, two birds — a mutually beneficial partnership. Why not?”

Jin Ruo stared at Hua Yitang in utter disbelief, looking him up and down thoroughly. “You’re suddenly being this generous to me — it gives me the creeps. You’re not cooking up some new scheme to swindle me, are you?”

“My, my, Little Jin Ruo, where did that come from?” Hua Yitang exclaimed. “You are Lin Sui’an’s direct disciple, which naturally makes you my junior—” (Jin Ruo roared: Who is your junior?!) “—this is simply a small gift from an elder to a younger family member, nothing worth mentioning.”

Everyone stared: You call this “small”?

Jin Ruo’s eyes darted about; he still couldn’t bring himself to believe it. He tugged at Lin Sui’an. “Master, is this Hua fellow really being this good-hearted?”

Lin Sui’an was also somewhat taken aback. She knew well that what Hua Yitang was giving the Pure Gate was an exclusive franchise right — the kind that countless Tang merchants would later dream of. This wasn’t merely a matter of selling tea. It was giving the Pure Gate a powerful foothold from which to establish itself across Tang. With that foothold, the Pure Gate’s rise to strength and prominence was only a matter of time.

And was all of this really as simple as the fact that Jin Ruo was her disciple?

Hua Yitang noticed Lin Sui’an’s gaze and let out a quiet laugh. His eyes sharpened abruptly. “I intend to make those maggots crawling in the gutters open their eyes wide — to let them see, once and for all, which one is the true Pure Gate!”

Lin Sui’an was suddenly, completely enlightened, and utterly convinced: Good heavens — now that is vision on a grand scale!

Jin Ruo thought: It’s all over. I have a very bad feeling about this.