Drifting upstream along the Dongyang River, the long bamboo raft pushed through the waves. Crystal-clear spray would leap onto the raft from time to time, then return to the small river through the gaps between the bamboo poles. They seemed to never tire of this game—leaping up then sliding down, leaping up again, sliding down again.
The suffering Yun Ye could only boringly watch the waves pushed aside by the bamboo raft.
It had already been three hours. They had been wandering on this small river for three hours. The masters seemed not to have the slightest trace of weariness. Several people stood on the raft, pointing at that breast-shaped hill, occasionally emitting a few sounds of admiration. There had been all kinds of hills along the way—that hill shaped like a wild boar was quite marvelous too, yet he didn’t see them compose poetry for it. Why were they so infatuated with this particular hill?
Yun Ye had already conceived the thought of inviting the several masters to visit the Yanlai Tower to observe real peaks. No need to fantasize about dirt mounds covered in trees. Even if they were buried on top of them, they couldn’t taste the sweet fragrance of the soft red dust of the mortal world.
The food was delectable, the wine was strong—the Yun family could guarantee their quality.
Forget about the tea. To this day, Yun Ye couldn’t accept the Tang people’s strange tastes. Finely ground powder was whisked in a black porcelain cup with a bamboo whisk to create dark green foam, then scallions and ginger were added, then carefully sprinkled ground nutmeg powder—good heavens, he was actually adding salt, and a small spoon of lamb fat?
This was Shu’s renowned boiled tea? Zhao Fu, Zhao Yanling, in his wide-sleeved robes, knelt at the tail of the bamboo raft meticulously performing each step of the tea-making process. His movements were graceful, ancient and solemn, the etiquette impeccable, completely expressing his intentions toward the guests. His expression was solemn, filled with reverence for heaven and earth.
Six people sat around the small red clay stove, watching Zhao Yanling prepare and distribute the tea, their eyes full of appreciation.
Receiving with both hands the tea cup Zhao Yanling respectfully offered, Yun Ye’s face wore an expression of admiration while his heart was filled with hatred enough to want to kill Zhao Yanling’s entire family.
The grassy smell, the mutton odor, the pungency of scallions and ginger, the bitterness of tea, the saltiness of salt, all mixed with the spice flavor of nutmeg—Yun Ye thoroughly experienced what was meant by wanting to ascend to heaven or die. He still had to display an expression of extreme enjoyment on his face, because that’s how the five old masters looked. Tears flowed like rivers in Yun Ye’s heart. He had to use the most powerful endurance to control himself from spitting it out. He downed in one gulp the deadly poison in the porcelain cup and loudly praised Zhao Yanling’s tea-making skills as truly exceptional.
This drew four disdainful gazes.
Master Yushan snorted: “A cow chewing on peonies! How could such wonderfully boiled tea be drunk in one gulp? You must slowly savor the changes in the various flavors. Tea with scallions is one change, tea with ginger is one change, tea with both scallions and ginger is yet another change. With salt, with nutmeg—there are twenty-five changes in total. The subtle delights within must be appreciated with the heart. Moreover, the lamb fat plays a supporting role, making the sovereign, ministers, and assistants each secure in their positions—greatly harmonizing with our Confucian teachings. This is truly life’s highest enjoyment. You youngster don’t understand the wonderful uses within, like a thirsty horse rushing to a spring—truly disgracing refined culture.”
Yun Ye bowed low to show he had been taught. Only then did everyone shift their gaze from him, quite satisfied with his humble attitude in receiving instruction.
After finishing the remaining tea in his cup, Zhao Yanling used iron tongs to remove the nearly burnt-out pine cones from the stove, drew clear water from the river, and carefully washed the tea implements until not a speck of dirt could be seen. Only then did he rinse them with clear water and place them in a wooden box, completing the entire tea-making process.
“Brother Wenji, I originally thought this study tour would return empty-handed. I didn’t expect that with the vigorous support of Brothers Wenji, Yushan, Yuanzhang, and Lishi, my Shu talented youths would have the opportunity to display their abilities. Shou is deeply grateful.” Yang Shou spoke with genuine emotion. It seemed Shu literati were also considerably oppressed by the aristocratic clans.
“Brother Panshan, those words are inappropriate. If your Shu young men didn’t have real talent and learning, even if this old man wanted to help, he couldn’t. After all, Yushan Academy was personally designated by His Majesty. The academy is full of descendants of merit officials and imperial clan members. This old man dares not be careless in the slightest.” Li Gang’s integrity was just this clear—helping was helping, but he would absolutely not lack principles.
“Young Friend Marquis Yun, this old man heard in Chang’an that you studied under an extraordinary person, that your learning in mathematics is profound and unfathomable, and that you have the grand ambition to pioneer the study of investigating things. This old man deeply admires this. Among these thirteen disciples, two also specialize in mathematics. Though they were defeated by Huang Zhi’en this time, it was truly a matter of inferior skills. I hope Marquis Yun will support them greatly.”
Before Yun Ye could answer, Master Yuanzhang spoke first: “That Huang Zhi’en is nothing but a jumping clown in Marquis Yun’s eyes. This old man heard that in Longyou, Marquis Yun slept in Duke Lu’s commander’s tent due to exhaustion from continuous salt-making operations. That Huang Zhi’en, relying on having some learning, overestimated himself and challenged Marquis Yun. Marquis Yun, just awakened from a deep sleep, subdued Huang Zhi’en with just a few words and magnanimously gave him two new Pythagorean diagrams without holding a grudge. This is how that fellow came to have his arrogant and domineering moment in Chang’an. Such a petty person shouldn’t pollute our ears.”
“Could it be the Circular and Square Pythagorean Diagram and the Pythagorean Square Expansion Diagram?” Zhao Yanling hastily asked.
“Precisely. One diagram was created by the ancient sage Zhao Shuang, the other by my teacher. At the time, seeing Huang Zhi’en had some learning, he taught them to him.” Yun Ye spoke nonchalantly.
Zhao Yanling heavily pounded his fist on the bamboo raft and said hatefully: “Yanshan and Boyuan—those two lost precisely because of these two diagrams. If we had come to Yushan earlier, we wouldn’t have suffered such humiliation from others.”
“Silence! If you lost, you lost. Whether you lost to a stable hand or to a great Confucian, there’s no difference between the two. In the end, it’s still a matter of insufficient learning. You all are young—there will be days to make a comeback. Why take one victory or defeat to heart? Yushan Academy has four great Confucians, and there’s Marquis Yun, such a mathematical prodigy. While you teach and educate people at the academy, you can humbly seek instruction from these several people. Within three years, there will be time for you to show your abilities. The heart should be unmoved like a high mountain, the will should flow restlessly like water—have you forgotten years of teaching?” Yang Shou’s few sentences were spoken sternly, greatly showing his disappointment that iron wouldn’t become steel.
“Hehe, why is Brother Panshan getting angry? Children and grandchildren have their own children and grandchildren’s blessings—don’t be an ox or horse for your children and grandchildren. You’ve already fulfilled your duty as a teacher. What remains depends on their own fortune. Come, come, come. Since ancient times, tea is the child that washes away troubles, wine is the lord that forgets worries. Let us drink a cup of wine and temporarily forget these worldly disputes, entrusting our feelings to the mountains and waters—how about it?” Master Yushan still wore his carefree, indifferent appearance. Lifting the wine pot, he poured wine for several people. The bright white stream of wine flowed from the spout, tracing an arc, and soon filled the wine cups.
Yang Shou picked up the wine cup and took a deep breath, letting the wine vapor enter his lungs. Only after a long while did he exhale, sighing: “Such fine wine—I don’t know if this old man will be able to drink it again in this life.” After speaking, he drank the wine in the cup in one gulp and shouted loudly, “Again!”
That day, on the Dongyang River, Yang Shou got thoroughly drunk. At one moment he sang and danced wildly, at another moment he wept bitterly. At one moment he chanted of lofty mountain aspirations, the next moment he was self-pitying and self-grieving. After several loud shouts, he collapsed in Zhao Yanling’s arms and snored loudly in sleep.
Everyone on the bamboo raft couldn’t help but shed tears.
Who among those seated wept the most? Marquis Yun. No other reason—the boiled tea had upset his stomach.