Chapter Eight: Brewing Tea

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Zike Rang realized that was the light of wisdom. This young man, Zhu Wen, possessed not only the vigorous energy, passion, and sharpness of youth but also considerable depth of character; he was by no means a reckless warrior.

In Zike Rang’s view, compared to bravery, strategy was more crucial for a military general. Learning spear and swordsmanship alone could never truly make one a match for thousands.

Truly outstanding generals who were "the bravest in the army and the wisest in the world," like Xi Chu’s Overlord Xiang Yu, the so-called “inhuman” Lü Bu of the late Han and Three Kingdoms period, or Duke Xing Guo Su Lie Su Dingfang who single-handedly extinguished the Three Kingdoms at the dawn of the dynasty, were exceedingly rare.

Of course, Zike Rang had personally known one such figure, with whom he shared a close relationship. But that man had long since passed away; no matter how formidable a hero, undefeated and dominating his era, he ultimately returned to mere earth, serving only as a memory for future generations.

Yet, Zike Rang had no inkling that Zhu Wen would consider his own strategic mind equal to that of General Xue.

“Today’s clash was merely a warm-up for both sides. What lies ahead will be a battle for life and death,” Zike Rang said with a faint smile. “Gentlemen of the Grass Army, we shall meet again.”

Since the breakthrough was blocked, Zike Rang personally approached the front line, and naturally, the rebel cavalry could not linger. Meng Kai immediately clasped his fists and called out loudly, “Until we meet again! I, Meng, still wish to personally witness General Xue’s famed ‘Frost Sword of Three Thousand Realms’!”

With that, he turned his horse around and rode off alongside Zhu Wen and Duan Hongyan. Meng Kai kept his body turned and gripped his great axe defensively, wary of a pursuit by the Taining forces, yet he appeared remarkably composed.

Once the rebel cavalry vanished from sight, the Taining army fully disembarked and set up camp, forming a pincer movement with Song Wei’s forces to the west.

Inside the command tent, only Zike Rang and Yan Lingkong remained—one seated, the other standing—with no others present.

“Commander, deliberately sacrificing Chu Kuangsheng and Feng Geyin, allowing the enemy an early victory, won’t that be detrimental to our troops’ morale?” Yan Lingkong asked anxiously.

“Chu Kuangsheng and Feng Geyin have long abused their power, raping local women and committing many vile acts. But both have distinguished battle records and are old comrades. Even if victims’ families report their crimes, it is difficult to deal with them directly,” Zike Rang said calmly, lifting his purple clay teacup and sipping lightly of the pre-Qingming West Lake Longjing tea. “By using enemy general Meng Kai’s strength to eliminate these two, we also provide the people with some justice.”

“I personally instructed Chu Kuangsheng and Feng Geyin to claim that they would face cavalry with infantry, to provoke the enemy into battle. Naturally, they believed they could win and thus became complacent. But they were no match for Huang Chao’s chief disciple, Meng Juehai.”

“After the initial victory by the rebels, they will think General Xue is nothing special and grow arrogant. Overestimating the courage of one’s troops while neglecting strategy leads to defeat—this is the downfall of an arrogant army.”

“As for that young man called Zhu Wen, he is quite interesting and likely has hidden depths. Though a new disciple of Huang Chao’s Huang Jutian, lacking the refined training of a master, relying mainly on unconventional methods, he managed to hold his own against Feng Geyin and even took advantage of Feng’s momentary distraction to deliver a fatal blow. This shows remarkable resilience and, judging by his countenance, he is a determined and intelligent man.”

Zike Rang had not witnessed the duel among Zhu Wen, Meng Kai, Feng Geyin, and Chu Kuangsheng personally, but the accounts of spectators allowed him to analyze the events vividly, as if he had seen them with his own eyes.

“After crushing these rebels, if I could have this young man under my command, it would be like gaining a phoenix. As for the doomed Chu Kuangsheng and Feng Geyin, their fate is deserved—they are nothing more than sacrificial ducks.”

Yan Lingkong was somewhat astonished; he had not expected the commander to value the seemingly unremarkable young general Zhu Wen so highly.

...

Inside Yanwang City, at the Huang Chao army camp.

Thanks to the remnants of ancient rammed earth walls, only firewood and timber were needed to fill gaps, making the camp exceptionally spacious. Within the large camp were smaller camps arranged in a plum blossom pattern, allowing mutual support. The command tent, stables, granaries, barracks, supply depots, and latrines were all arranged neatly. Outside Yanwang City, simple trenches were dug with caltrops set within, prepared for enemy attacks.

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Huang Chao was both a man of letters and arms, well-versed in military strategy. The rebel army had also absorbed many deserters who had hidden among the populace after the defeat of Pang Xun’s rebel forces eight years earlier. Pang Xun, the leader of the Ming Sect, had long developed influence within the Tang army, and his core troops were made up of soldiers stationed in Guilin from Xuzhou, so many were familiar with Tang military formations, disciplines, and regulations.

In a remote corner of the camp, a rectangular cedar tea bed was set.

Zhu Wen changed into a loose, comfortable cyan robe. Using a gilded silver ladle adorned with scrollwork, he scooped a small half ladle of salt that looked like snowflakes from a meticulously cleaned blue-and-white porcelain jar placed upright on the ground.

The copper kettle on the charcoal fire was beginning to make faint sounds. With practiced ease, Zhu Wen lifted the lid and leisurely sprinkled the fine salt onto the water’s surface. As the salt powder instantly vanished into the hot water, he replaced the lid.

His movements were elegant and natural, like a crane among clouds, revealing no hint of his rustic origins.

Young junior sister Duan Hongyan widened her beautiful eyes with curiosity, watching Zhu Wen’s actions intently.

Zhu Wen signaled her to wait with his eyes, then focused on the kettle again. When the water’s sound grew louder, he uncovered the lid and skimmed off the fine foam on the surface with another silver spoon before closing it once more.

Soon, the boiling water sounded like pearls dropping onto a jade plate. Zhu Wen lifted the lid again, but this time he scooped two large ladles of boiling water into a porcelain bowl on the tea bed, stirring gently with a silver-tipped bamboo whisk.

At the same time, he scooped some finely powdered tea leaves, as fine as wheat bran, from another blue-and-white porcelain jar and slowly added them to the boiling water. Then, with the spoon, he further stirred the bubbling surface. The water’s jade-green surface rose with pearl-like bubbles, resembling “emerald clouds driven by wind, white flowers floating and shimmering on the bowl.”

This was the standard “boiled tea” method popular during the Tang dynasty, wherein salt and tea powder were boiled together before drinking.

Typically, at the first boil, salt and various seasonings—such as scallion, ginger, jujube, tangerine peel, cornel, or mint—would be added; at the second boil, tea powder was introduced, creating the “moving soup flower” as the tea blossomed in the water.

The timing of adding ingredients was quite particular, and different combinations of spices produced varied flavors. The tea-making process was judged both by the skill of the brewer and the taster’s ability to discern the sequence and influence of the flavors.

Duan Hongyan parted her lips softly, “No spices added, only salt as seasoning—this is the pure tea method recorded by Lu Yu in the ‘Classic of Tea.’”

Zhu Wen was somewhat surprised she had read Lu Yu’s treatise.

Lu Yu criticized the addition of various spices during the boiling process as “nothing but ditch water,” equating it to filthy water in a gutter.

Yet Zhu Wen remained focused, stirring the tea until the surface “roiled and surged,” then stopped. He returned the two ladles of water he had previously removed back into the kettle, covered it, and reduced the fire to nurture the tea’s flavor.

When faint bubbles reappeared, Zhu Wen slowly rose, lifted the kettle, and poured more than half a cup into a delicate porcelain cup prepared for Duan Hongyan. He then poured half a cup for himself, gently set down the kettle, raised his cup, and invited her to share.

In truth, Zhu Wen now found this quite troublesome.

He disliked serving others.

His cooking was terrible.

But he was skilled at brewing wine and tea.

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Because he absolutely did not want to be like the great generals of old who sucked poison from soldiers’ wounds.

He wanted to be a leader. And as a leader, brewing wine for his troops or making a good pot of tea when entertaining scholars was far easier than sucking poisons.

However, he had inadvertently let Huang Chao discover his knack for making tea, and his master had carelessly let this slip to his junior sister. Straightforward and curious, she insisted Zhu Wen show her what a youth from the wilderness could brew.

“Truly good tea,” Duan Hongyan said, drinking it down like a cow chewing peonies, smiling. “Though just ordinary leaves, it tastes better than the tribute tea, the Changxing Guzhu Purple Bamboo Shoot.”

Zhu Wen inwardly scoffed, thinking, “How can she taste any flavor with that drinking style?” But it was odd that this bold girl had read Lu Yu’s Classic of Tea and knew the Guzhu Purple Bamboo Shoot tea.

“Could you teach me?” Duan Hongyan leaned in, her expression instantly softening like water.

Zhu Wen was startled. He had not expected this bold junior sister, so like a frontier warrior woman, to suddenly reveal a charming, delicate demeanor like a girl from the south.

She drew very close, her lithe figure swaying gracefully, the rich scent of youth filling the air. Her large, moist eyes lifted to meet his, full of hopeful expectation.

Zhu Wen knew she was no destitute scholar who would be overwhelmed by a cup of tea.

So what was this girl up to? Testing him or trying to tease him?

Suddenly, Zhu Wen felt uneasy.

Even if her intentions were innocent, he did not want too much entanglement.

Gentle girls are often gentle to everyone, but some people mistakenly think the gentleness is only for themselves, growing proud and careless, ending in discord and hurt all around.

Yet the fragrance from this girl overwhelmed even the lingering aroma of the tea.

Zhu Wen was no stranger to the scent of young women, but the intensity of this junior sister’s natural fragrance surpassed all he had ever known.

He was certain it was no artificial scent or foreign rosewater—this was her innate body fragrance.

Turning his body aside, Zhu Wen shifted the topic. “By the way, why isn’t senior brother here? He’s the star who broke the Taining army. It must be terribly dull without him.”

“Oh, him,” Duan Hongyan shook her head. “He’s off again at Chief Wang’s camp listening to music. Our master’s military code is strict—no pleasure quarters allowed in camp—so he likes to hang out there, listening to those questionable tunes.”