The road to Linhuang Prefecture was long and difficult; with the winter snowfall and the frozen river, it truly took the group half a year to officially step onto foreign soil.
Coming here for the first time, Tao Xianzhi excitedly hopped down from the stationary carriage wrapped in a cotton robe before exhaling a puff of white mist and warming his icy palms.
The foreign kingdom was small, and its cities were modest. No high mountains were in sight, only wilderness on all sides. Fu Jingxuan had no desire to get out of the carriage; swathed in a thick cloak with a soft fox-fur collar, he reclined inside and gazed outward. Beyond the carriage, withered grass spread unbroken to the horizon, yet his thoughts lingered on the pots of Emerald Orchids in the Fang family courtyard; and on the one he had personally entrusted to tend them before his departure.
That person should be busy now. It happened to be the season for harvesting spring buds; after these few days passed, the tea shops that had once been closed would all reopen.
Just thinking of that bustling scene made Fu Jingxuan’s heart flutter with restless longing. He wanted to turn back immediately; the first thing he’d do upon returning would be to hold that person and give him a kiss, then share a few drinks to celebrate.
Seated across from Second Master Fu, Pu Ling noticed the faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He lifted a warm hand-held pot, poured a cup of hot wine to help him warm up, and asked, “What thoughts have put Second Master in such a good mood?”
Fu Jingxuan took the cup but didn’t drink. This wine was brought by the accompanying guards; it was too strong, and he couldn’t handle it.
Hu Yunshan sat with his hands tucked into his sleeves, leaning in a corner of the carriage to answer on Fu Jingxuan’s behalf: “Naturally, he’s thinking of my master.” Even though Fang Zesheng had declared he would not accept him as a disciple, Hu Yunshan still could not disregard proper manners; in the days he spent studying tea at the Fang residence, he and Fang Zesheng had freely addressed each other as they pleased, each minding their own affairs without interference.
Pu Ling was still young, having just turned fifteen this year, and was very curious about this man, Fang Zesheng. He was the direct disciple of Madam Cheng’s cousin and often sat in Madam Cheng’s room, where he heard her and his master discussing tea matters and occasionally heard them mention Fang Zesheng.
From what he heard, Fang Zesheng was far from the helpless cripple confined to a wheelchair that he appeared to be now; in his youth, he was said to have been a peerless talent, remarkable in both skill and grace.
Curious, Pu Ling asked Fu Jingxuan, “I heard Madam Cheng mention that once, when the Head Merchant came to visit, he almost bullied my master to withdraw from the world and live in seclusion. Is that true?”
Before Fu Jingxuan could answer, Hu Yunshan dug into his ear vigorously. “Bullied who?”
Pu Ling said, “My master ah.”
Hu Yunshan said, “Isn’t your master Master Zhou, Zhou Yanyu?”
Pu Ling nodded. “It is indeed Master Zhou.”
Hu Yunshan said, “Master Zhou is a sage of the tea market! How could he be bullied by a junior?”
Fu Jingxuan swirled the white porcelain wine cup, a faint, proud smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
The incident Pu Ling spoke of happened when he and Fang Zesheng were fourteen years old.
Although Second Master Fu was not favored by Fu Shangyi and Second Madam Liu within the Fu family, he had a kind and gentle First Madam who looked out for him. While the First Madam was not as meticulously attentive as a biological mother, she never treated him as an outsider. On the other side, Second Madam Liu exhausted herself worrying over her three biological sons, teaching them about tea and accounting; she wished for nothing more than for Fu Jingxuan to be ignorant and unlearned—a useless thing when he grew up so he couldn’t snatch away the Fu family inheritance. Fortunately, Madam Cheng still thought to educate him, occasionally letting him study tea under Master Zhou so he wouldn’t fall too far behind Fu Jingye.
Fu Jingxuan had been clever since childhood, and his talent for tea tasting seemed innate. Although his character had not gone astray, he insisted on opposing Fu Shangyi in everything. Coupled with his sharp mind, he possessed the typical pride of a youth; he spent his days unwilling to study tea, wanting only to run wild everywhere.
Unable to control him directly, Cheng Xiqiu devised a way to exert pressure through Fang Zeshen. She would frequently and calmly praise Fang Zeshen within his ear, subtly reminding him that, if he hoped to maintain his friendship with Young Master Fang in the future, he would need to keep up with him. Otherwise, when the two stood together one day, one would be an outstanding young gentleman and the other an illiterate street hoodlum; wouldn’t they look quite ill-matched?
Fu Jingxuan had originally been listening absentmindedly, but he never expected those final words; “ill-matched”, to strike his Achilles’ heel. At that time, he had just discovered his peculiar feelings for Fang Zeshen and was terrified that he truly would grow up to be a street hoodlum who was unworthy of him.
However, all of Fu Jingxuan’s talent was concentrated on his tongue. While he was invincible when learning tea tasting and theory with Master Zhou, he suffered a crushing defeat in the art of whisking tea, unable to produce even a mediocre cup of “yellow with white” tea froth.
Master Zhou possessed a handsome, androgynous face but was incredibly petty. After being outwitted twice by the young Fu Jingxuan in tea tasting, he resolved to even the score completely during the tea whisking lessons. He set a difficult task for the boy, leaving him to practice alone in the Fu family bamboo garden for two days and two nights.
That day, when Fang Zeshen came to find him, the first thing he saw was Fu Jingxuan sitting in the bamboo garden brewing tea with dark circles under his eyes. Before he could even speak, he noticed that the boy’s techniques for boiling water and burning charcoal were entirely wrong. Upon learning the reason, he angrily pulled Fu Jingxuan along to Madam Cheng’s courtyard to settle accounts with Master Zhou.
Master Zhou was still unaware that disaster was imminent, he was standing in the courtyard meddling with the flowers and plants raised by Madam Cheng when a clear youthful voice suddenly rang out from behind him. It was Fang Zesheng who took Fu Jingxuan’s hand, stepping forward to openly challenge him.
That confrontation was truly spectacular. It was the first time Fu Jingxuan had witnessed Fang Zesheng display such a keen edge and domineering presence before an elder, as if he were resolute in overpowering Master Zhou at any cost; to make him feel his strength, ensuring he would never dare to oppress the younger generation again or trick Fu Jingxuan into staying awake for two days and nights.
Thinking of this, the corners of Second Master Fu’s mouth curled up even further.
After winning against Master Zhou that day, Fang Zesheng asked him why he wanted to learn the art of whisking tea. Fu Jingxuan answered honestly, admitting he worried that the gap between them would grow too large and they would eventually drift apart. He had expected Fang Zesheng to be secretly proud upon hearing this, but instead, the boy withdrew his sharp demeanor before awkwardly turned his head away and muttered in a low voice, “There is no need to listen to Madam Cheng’s alarmist talk. Even if you are useless in this life, I am willing to provide for you.”
At the time, Fu Jingxuan had not grasped the full meaning of those words, focusing solely on the phrase “useless in this life.” With a haughty resolve, he swore fiercely that he would become a man of talent, then turned and ran back to the bamboo garden to continue honing his tea brewing skills.
Although things had gone wrong for the Fang family shortly after that, Fu Jingxuan still couldn’t help but chuckle when remembering these fragments of their childhood.
Seeing him smiling more and more happily to himself, Pu Ling asked once more, “What is Second Master thinking about?”
Fu Jingxuan glanced at him, closed his eyes with a smile, and leisurely swayed the folded jade-boned fan in his hand before saying, “Thinking of home.”
By now, the household was already awash with the colors of spring, and everything was coming to life anew.
The mute uncle had changed into thinner clothes and stood in the inner courtyard holding a box of tender, unroasted spring buds. These spring buds were prime specimens, freshly delivered by the land manager; each leaf vibrant and dripping with green, plump and perfectly uniform. Originally, they were to be taken immediately to the study for Fang Zesheng to inspect their quality, but unexpectedly, Fang Zesheng had already come out into the courtyard. With a crutch tucked under his left arm and his right hand supported by Chen Fu, he was slowly rising to his feet.
He was already able to stand for a long time.
Six months ago, Chen Fu had rushed to the Fang residence with his medical kit. After trying hundreds of methods he had specifically sought out, he finally restored sensation to Fang Zesheng’s two crippled legs.
Though he still could not walk on his own, he was now able to take a few steps with the support of others.
A few days ago, Physician Chen had been filled with excitement, but over the past two days, his concern had returned again. While carefully supporting Fang Zesheng, he said, “You’ve already been walking for an hour; why not return to your room and rest? This old physician understands that the Head Merchant is eager to recover from your leg injury, but at this moment, each step feels like treading on a slab of stone studded with steel nails. You must not rush your progress.”
Beads of sweat formed on Fang Zesheng’s forehead, and a layer of white frost appeared on his lips from the excessive pain. He wanted to walk a little more each day so that when Fu Jingxuan returned, he could see him standing. Yet, after years of sitting in a wheelchair, suddenly standing and walking was truly a trial to endure. He intended to follow Chen Fu’s advice and return to the room to rest, but he happened to catch sight of a winter jasmine flower that had just bloomed on a branch.
Step by step, he made his way over, picked up the scissors by the flower bed and carefully snipped off a sprig.
The mute uncle hurried forward before gesturing to ask if he should put the flower in a vase.
Fang Zesheng shook his head and looked into the distance, following the slight northern breeze of the day.
Knowing what was on his mind, Chen Fu spoke to his thoughts, “I wonder when Second Young Master Fu will be able to return.”
Fang Zesheng did not know the exact time either; he simply gazed silently at the winter jasmine in his hand; his eyes filled with longing:
“If I pluck a sprig of spring flowers, preserve a few drops of summer rain, and wait for the autumn leaves to redden the mountains so I can gather a few fallen ones for him… then he will come back to my side, treading upon the pristine brocade-white snow, won’t he?”
