PCA Chapter 208

Three months later, Yangzhou City

 

The spring river water was warming, all things beginning anew—truly the best time of year.

 

The Su family tea gardens were also bustling with activity. The period around Qingming and Grain Rain was crucial for new tea coming to market. Tea trees changed daily, prices fluctuating accordingly. Teas were clearly marked with different grades in the tea cabinets—pre-Qingming tea was worth its weight in gold, but after Grain Rain it became worthless.

 

Ten thousand acres of tea gardens stretched in emerald waves. Tea-picking women with baskets wove among them, taking only the topmost tender buds from each tea tree—one leaf, one bud, with white down visible and plump yellow-green color, delicate as graceful young maidens.

 

Adjacent to the tea gardens were several sheds where the tea buds from the women’s baskets had to be sorted once more before being stir-fried in woks.

 

Stir-frying was the most crucial step in tea processing—first raw, then semi-cooked, then fully cooked. Each step required utmost care.

 

At this moment, several large woks were set up in the sheds, with pairs working together—one controlling the heat, one stir-frying. Despite the March weather, everyone was drenched in sweat, some even working shirtless, the red firelight reflecting off their sinewy muscles, completely ignoring the lingering chill of the late spring cold.

 

“Brother Xiao Su, I never knew you had such skill at tea-frying,” Ah Liu, who was controlling the fire, looked up with admiration. “You’re even better than Master Liu from our shop.”

 

“Master Liu has been frying tea for over thirty years—he’s more skilled than me,” Su Cen smiled gently, though his hands never stopped moving. The kneaded tea leaves spread evenly, the leaves already curled into strips—the rudimentary form of Biluochun tea.

 

“But Master Liu has such a temper. Whether the fire’s too high, too low, or if a batch gets burnt, it’s always our fault. He never looks for problems in himself. You’re not like that, Brother Xiao Su,” Ah Liu complained with pouted lips.

 

Su Cen smiled without responding further. His hands moved among the tea buds with practiced skill and flexibility, though they were too delicate and pale, his fingertips and palms reddened from the heat.

 

Tea-frying required feel—one had to work barehanded to sense the remaining moisture in the leaves and gauge the heat. Those who fried tea for years developed thick calluses on their hands, like iron palm practitioners—all from being burned.

 

These hands had no calluses, pale and clean, clearly belonging to someone who lived in comfort. Yet this didn’t affect his speed at all—fluid and smooth, not like frying tea but like wielding a brush in calligraphy.

 

Watching this, Ah Liu suddenly remembered the rumors circulating in town. It was said this Second Young Master Su had once been an official in the capital, quite a high-ranking one, but later was demoted for unknown reasons and could never serve as an official again. The Su family was a prominent household in Yangzhou, so people didn’t dare speak of this openly, but privately the rumors spread like wildfire. Some said he had misjudged a case and caused someone’s death, others that he had offended powerful figures at court. More maliciously, some claimed Su’s rapid promotion had been due to some unsavory dealings behind the scenes, and now that he’d fallen from favor, he naturally tumbled down.

 

Ah Liu studied the person before him and felt none of these rumors fit.

 

He was clearly someone with a good temperament. Though he didn’t talk much, just being quietly present made people feel comfortable. He never put on airs, and the occasional complaints Ah Liu voiced never reached the master’s ears.

 

The more he thought about it, the more puzzled he became, feeling sorry for the man. But he knew his place—some things could be said, others couldn’t. So he asked instead: “Brother Xiao Su, is Chang’an a nice place?”

 

Su Cen paused slightly, then after a moment said: “Very nice.”

 

“The shopkeeper says he wants to send some capable assistants to help at the tea house in the capital, and he thinks I’d be suitable…” Ah Liu lowered his head with some embarrassment, then quickly explained: “Of course, it’s mainly because I’m not married, so I don’t have to drag family along. Since you’ve been to the capital, Brother Xiao Su, I wanted to ask—what’s the capital like? Would I be able to adapt if I went?”

 

“The capital…” Su Cen lowered his head and pressed his lips together. “The capital is very prosperous, very lively. Three great inner palaces, one hundred and eight wards, plus the Eastern and Western markets, with foreigners and barbarians…”

 

“Are the people there easy to get along with? Would they look down on people like us with their high and mighty attitudes?”

 

Seeing Ah Liu’s determined expression suggesting he wouldn’t give up until he got answers, Su Cen interrupted: “Ah Liu, the fire’s about to die out.”

 

Ah Liu’s face reddened. He had just criticized Master Liu for shifting blame, and immediately made an error himself. He quickly bent down to add firewood.

 

Su Cen lowered his head and slowly kneaded the tea, evaporating the moisture between the leaves, but his mind had wandered. Chang’an… what did Chang’an look like again? Apart from those familiar places, the rest had become somewhat blurred. It had only been a few months, yet it felt as distant as a previous lifetime.

 

The tea master at the neighboring stove finished his second batch and transferred the tea to another wok for final processing, sighing: “This batch needs to be fried well—it’s tea destined for the palace.”

 

Su Cen’s hands froze, suddenly forgetting his movements.

 

Only when Ah Liu tugged at him did he come back to his senses, but his hand had been burned with a large blister, the skin peeling.

 

“Ah, this…” Ah Liu panicked, then after a moment remembered: “I’ll get some cold water.”

 

“Forget it,” Su Cen said, looking back at the tea leaves in the wok. “By the time you return, this batch will be ruined.”

 

“Then…”

 

“It’s nothing serious, let’s continue frying,” Su Cen shook his hand and returned to the wok.

 

“Let me do it,” Ah Liu stepped forward eagerly.

 

“I’ll do it.” Su Cen shook his head. Though his tone wasn’t heavy, it carried an unquestionable meaning. “I’ll do it myself.”

 

After several batches of tea, the sky had darkened. They didn’t stop until it was too dark to distinguish tea colors. The journey from the tea gardens back to the city was several li, and by the time Su Cen returned to Yangzhou, night had completely fallen.

 

He had arranged to visit his teacher that evening, so Su Cen made a special detour to the south of the city to buy Lin Zongqing’s favorite three-filling buns.

 

The Fuchun Bun Shop in the south of the city was famous far and wide—the only one in the entire city with no other branches. Su Cen arrived at an unfortunate time, right during the dinner rush. One steamer of buns had just sold out, and another wasn’t ready yet. Su Cen stood in the hall being jostled by the constant stream of customers, finally finding a spot out of the way to wait.

 

At a nearby table sat several scholars in long robes, drinking wine and conversing.

 

One person asked: “Brother Chongming, what’s been troubling you lately?”

 

The person called Chongming sighed lightly, “I’ve been hesitating recently about whether to go to the capital for the spring examinations next year.”

 

Another person was puzzled: “What’s there to hesitate about? The triennial spring examinations are definitely something you must attend.”

 

“You don’t understand, sigh,” Chongming sighed again. “The current court politics are quite chaotic. Back then, Prince Ning alone was enough to cover the sky with one hand. Now, who knows where this Prince Yu has emerged from. One occupies Xingqing Palace, the other forcibly takes Taiji Palace. They change decrees from morning to evening, the emperor is young and powerless to maintain balance. Even if you pass the examinations and gain official rank, you’ll just be caught between two factions in a difficult position. It’s better not to be an official at all.”

 

“Shh,” another person quickly made a silencing gesture, looked around, then lowered his voice: “You must be careful saying such things. Haven’t you heard? This new Prince Yu has a team of secret agents under him—they’re everywhere, appearing and disappearing without a trace. There’s nothing in the entire court that he doesn’t know about.”

 

“What kind of situation is this?” said someone who hadn’t spoken before. “The court calls it dual prince regency, but the common people don’t call it that. They call it—dual prince chaos in government. Forget about being an official, even we common people don’t know when our peaceful days will come to an end.”

 

The group sighed and lamented for a while, until the shop assistant called out several times before Su Cen came to his senses. He picked up the buns, threw down a few copper coins, and practically fled.

 

When he reached Lin Zongqing’s place, the old man had already warmed his wine and had been drinking alone for three rounds.

 

Su Cen laid out the purchased drinking snacks and buns one by one before taking his seat. Just as he picked up his chopsticks, he heard Lin Zongqing cough lightly.

 

Though Lin Zongqing was getting on in years, his eyesight was still sharp. He immediately noticed the injury on Su Cen’s hand, pointed at it with his chopsticks, and asked: “How did this happen?”

 

Su Cen pulled his hand back slightly to conceal it: “Just a small burn, nothing serious.”

 

“Been roasting tea again?”

 

Su Cen heard the displeasure in Lin Zongqing’s tone and didn’t want to say much. He bit his chopsticks and nodded.

 

“You, oh you…” Lin Zongqing had words on the tip of his tongue, but seeing the person’s head lowered in silence, he could only swallow them back. Finally, he raised his wine cup and drained it in one gulp: “What can I say about you!”

 

Hands meant for writing and painting, capable of creating immortal literature and legendary masterpieces, yet he insisted on abandoning his brush to roast tea. His most promising student had now become the most destitute one. Though still so young, he was worse off than this old man. It was like watching an exquisite porcelain piece being destroyed in an instant—heartbreakingly painful.

 

The old man was furious and said offhandedly: “I told you he would ruin you.”

 

Su Cen’s heart clenched painfully again. In the first month after his return, he often couldn’t breathe from the pain. Su Lan thought he was ill and consulted every doctor in Yangzhou, but to no avail. Later, to spare Su Lan further worry, he learned to hide his pain. Though his heart was riddled with wounds and bleeding, he refused to show it on his face.

 

But tonight he finally couldn’t hold it in. Su Cen pressed his fingertips deep into the wound on his palm, trying to use pain to stop pain, and said in a heavy voice: “He didn’t ruin me, I ruined him…”

 

I caused him to lose half his empire.

 

“I’ve told you countless times,” Lin Zongqing slammed his chopsticks heavily on the table, “Li Sheng had been planning for a long time. This was his struggle with the imperial family. You were just dragged into it. If not you, it would have been someone else.”

 

Seeing the person still hanging his head like that, Lin Zongqing sighed: “But it’s good that you came out. Better than being entangled there until death. That boy Li Shi at least didn’t break his word.”

 

“Break his word?” Su Cen looked up in confusion. “What do you mean break his word?”

 

“He didn’t tell you?” Lin Zongqing was somewhat astonished. After realizing his mistake, it was too late for regret. Since the words were out, he could only continue: “You’re like me—too proud. It can make you, but it can also destroy you. So when I agreed to serve as Yangzhou Prefect, I made him promise to preserve your life no matter what.”

 

Su Cen’s heart stopped, and suddenly he forgot even the pain.

 

So Li Shi had known all along, had already found him a way out. That night when he asked whether “Tian Pingzhi’s case could be investigated,” Li Shi had already made all preparations with everything at stake.

 

He was always like this—silently standing behind him, behind everyone, being the strongest support, holding up this precarious court situation.

 

“Whether in terms of status, position, or natural order, you two are too far apart. A pipe dream must have its moment of awakening. Now that you’re back, stop thinking about it. If you won’t be an official, then help me manage the private school. Don’t waste all that learning…”

 

“Teacher, please stop…” Something dropped into the wine cup with a splash, shattering the calm surface. Su Cen’s head gradually lowered as he began to sob uncontrollably: “Please stop talking…”

 

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