Novelas PaiPai

Capítulo 98

(2710 words)

Autumn grasses grow thick in the western palace and southern inner palace, fallen leaves cover the steps, red and unswept. I only truly understood the desolation depicted in this poem when I entered the Western Capital's inner palace.

Luoyang, an ancient imperial capital and a secondary capital of the Qing Dynasty, boasts sweet springs, fertile soil, gentle breezes, and a beautiful, clear sky. Inheriting the customs and traditions of the Han and Tang dynasties, the scholar-officials of the Qing Dynasty also favored this place, often residing here to cultivate gardens, build pavilions, and plant trees and shrubs for seasonal enjoyment. Thus, the gardens of scholar-officials were numerous throughout Luoyang, their flowers and trees flourishing, earning them a renowned reputation throughout the land.

However, the emperor did not visit Luoyang as often as the scholar-officials. He would only visit it incidentally when paying homage to the imperial tombs, staying for a short two or three days. Therefore, the Western Capital Palace was not as valued as the Eastern Capital Palace. Many of the palaces that had survived from the Sui and Tang dynasties were in disrepair, and the current emperors had no intention of carrying out major repairs. The officials and envoys in charge of maintaining the palace mostly repaired it by robbing Peter to pay Paul, often demolishing two old rooms to build one new one. As a result, the size of the palace has been greatly reduced, and it no longer resembles the grandeur of the previous dynasties.

With so many broken walls and ruins, this place had become a paradise for weeds and crows to breed. I arrived at dusk, and an old eunuch with a hunched back led me to the palace courtyard where I would live. As soon as I pushed open the gate, I heard the sound of birds flapping their wings. The startled black crows flew up to the bare branches, and seeing us enter through a thick layer of dead leaves, they quickly regained their composure, turned their heads away with aloofness, and sang their monotonous, self-righteous "caw caw" to the west wind.

As I listened to the cawing of crows, the old eunuch took out a key and shakily unlocked the door to a palace room. After pushing the door open, he first waved his whisk to sweep away the cobwebs hanging from the beams before gesturing for me to enter, saying, "This is it."

I spent three days cleaning this place into a habitable place. A few days later, a newly acquainted eunuch from the cleaning crew came to my place. Upon seeing the state of the place, he smiled and said, "It's so clean, and it's even maintained according to the customs of Tokyo. You must still be thinking about going back."

Later I noticed that the eunuchs here were very different from those in Tokyo. They were decadent and lazy, and their own residences and the palaces under their jurisdiction were in a mess. They also lacked the motivation to clean up. Even when they did work, they would only swing the broom a couple of times when the supervisor was present.

"Why sweep it so clean? Anyway, the emperor is far away, and the officials can't see it," they said.

They were mostly eunuchs who had committed crimes and no longer hoped to return to Tokyo. Their lives, which were ignored by everyone, became increasingly desolate as the years passed. It seemed that the meaning of their lives was simply to put down their brooms, squint their eyes, and lie lazily in the sunny courtyard.

I didn't spend much time chatting with them, even though they were very interested in my past experiences. In their eyes, I was probably a quiet person who spent all day sweeping the yard that could never be cleaned properly, just like my current job required.

One day in the first month of the sixth year of the Jiayou era, I was sweeping the floor in front of the main hall as usual when someone approached and a corner of a blue robe caught my eye.

I looked up, afraid that the dust I was raising would stain his clothes, and was about to apologize to him, but when I looked up and saw his face clearly, I was stunned for a moment.

He smiled gently and called my name, "Huaiji." I was both surprised and delighted. My hand slipped, and the broom fell to the ground. I bowed deeply to him, saying, "Mr. Zhang."

Zhang Maoze's current specific position is the Military Commander of Yongxing Road, in charge of the garrisoning, defense, and training of the imperial guards in Chang'an, the capital of the capital. He told me that he was here as an envoy from Yongxing Road to present memorials to the emperor. After returning to the capital to offer New Year's greetings, he was on his way back to Chang'an, passing through Xijing. Knowing that I was here, he came to see me.

I invited him into my residence, intending to go out and prepare some wine and food, but he stopped me: "I never drink alcohol, and I dislike meat. I happen to have a small dragon-shaped tea cake here, which was bestowed upon me by the Empress this year. Since we have met today, how about we serve tea instead of wine?"

Knowing that he had no particular hobbies except drinking tea, I agreed and immediately found the tea set to boil water and prepare the tea.

Mr. Zhang took out a small dragon-shaped tea from his luggage, and then took out a set of tea utensils, including a silver teapot, tea grinder, tea spoon, a silk tea strainer with Goose Creek painting, and a Jian'an black-glazed rabbit fur tea cup, all of which are highly regarded tea utensils.

"Were these also bestowed by the Empress?" I asked him, pointing to the tea set.

He shook his head and said, "This was bestowed by the Emperor."

I was surprised, but then smiled and said, "I'm sure your return to the capital is just around the corner."

He simply smiled and said, "It's still early."

He said no more, and I didn't press him further. For the next parting, I just watched in silence as he poured the oil off the small dragon tea cake, wrapped it in a clean piece of paper, crushed it, and then took out an appropriate amount and placed it on the boat-shaped silver tea grinder, beginning to grind it finely with the single wheel inside.

Dragon and Phoenix Tea Cakes are tribute teas from Beiyuan, Phoenix Mountain, Jianzhou. The tea cakes are imprinted with dragon and phoenix patterns. Large Dragon and Phoenix Tea Cakes weigh one jin (500 grams) per cake. These smaller Dragon Tea Cakes were made by Cai Xiang when he served as the Transport Commissioner of Fujian Circuit, selecting the finest Beiyuan tea. They weighed ten cakes per jin, and the annual tribute was no more than ten jin. The tea is milky white. When it is ground, jade dust flies up, and the aroma of tea fills the air. Even before tasting it, one can feel its refreshing and invigorating qualities.

Seeing that I was watching intently, Mr. Zhang smiled and asked me, "How are your tea-making skills these days?"

I bowed my head and said, "I cannot hope to reach your level, sir."

He glanced at the remaining unused tea cake fragments and said, "You come too, let's have a contest."

On a whim, I didn't refuse and took some tea pieces to grind. Then we each boiled water on our tea stoves and prepared for a tea competition.

While waiting for the hot water to boil, we used tea sieves to carefully sift the ground tea powder. After a short while, we heard the sound of the teapots like the sound of wind in the pines and rain in the cypresses. We then picked up the teapots and poured them into each cup, scooped in the tea powder, added a little hot water and stirred until it was very smooth, so that the tea paste was like melted glue. Then we picked up the teapots again. I held a bamboo tea basket, while Mr. Zhang held a silver spoon. As we poured the hot water, we each stirred the tea in our own cups in a circular motion.

Our actions were similar, and we completed each step in roughly the same amount of time. Several times I stole glances to observe Mr. Zhang's actions, but he kept his eyes down, doing his own thing, and never paid any attention to me.

Tea leaves naturally produce foam, and Jian tea also contains a small amount of rice flour. When whisked, the milky mist surges and overflows the cup, forming a layer of white foam that floats up and remains still. In tea ceremony, this is called "biting the cup." The winner of a tea competition lies in the length of time the foam "bites" the cup. After whisking and waiting a moment, whoever's cup has the foam disperse first, revealing watermarks, loses.

We stopped whisking almost simultaneously, put down our tea sets, placed the teacups upright on their saucers, and lined them up side by side, waiting for the results of the contest.

The teacup I used was a small, open-mouthed, celadon teacup with lotus patterns. Its body was thin and smooth, and it held white tea with abundant milky blooms, like a lotus leaf holding pure white snow. Mr. Zhang's rabbit fur teacup, on the other hand, had a thick body and seemed plain at first glance. However, upon closer inspection, one could see radiating silver-white patterns on the dark blue-green glaze, as delicate as silver rabbit fur, exquisite beyond words. The teacup and the tea complemented each other, one black and one white, which further enhanced the color of the tea.

At first, the appearance of the milky foam in our cups was similar, but after a short while, it became clear that the milky foam in the celadon cup was thinner and dissolved slightly faster. The tiny bubbles kept breaking and receding layer by layer, finally revealing a ring of watermarks in the center. In contrast, the milky foam in the hare's fur cup remained intact, without any watermarks showing.

I immediately bowed and smiled, saying, "I am ashamed to say that Huaiji is inferior to you, sir."

Mr. Zhang looked at me with a smile and asked, "We used the same tea and water this time, do you know where you lost?"

I thought for a moment, then shook my head and said, "Please enlighten me, sir."

Mr. Zhang then explained one by one: "First, you weren't careful enough when sifting the tea; you didn't sift it as many times as I did. The tea powder used for whisking must be extremely fine to float lightly in the soup, allowing the frothy tea to absorb all the tea powder and the tea soup. Second, you didn't pour enough water into the teacup when you were preparing it, so the teacup wasn't heated thoroughly, which affected the tea powder's ability to float and stand for a long time. Third, you rushed to prepare the tea paste and pour in the water after preparing the teacup, causing the water to be too hot. If it's too hot, the tea will sink. You should wait a moment until the water in the bottle stops boiling before starting to whisk the tea. Also, you poured too much water, resulting in more soup than tea, making the tea leaves easily disperse. In tea competitions, you should only pour water to about four-tenths of the cup's capacity. Finally, your whisking motion was too forceful. Haste makes waste. You should pour the water around the rim of the cup, allowing the hot water to flow along the cup's wall. Don't stir the tea paste too quickly at first; stir slowly and gradually increase the whisking, rotating your fingers and wrist to thoroughly cleanse the tea. This will allow the tea soup to gradually develop its color, and the frothy tea to stand for a long time."

I was greatly impressed and thanked him shyly. He smiled slightly and said casually, "A big mistake is always made up of a series of small mistakes."

I lowered my eyes and pondered his words carefully. After a long while, I asked him again, "Sir, you didn't look at me when you were preparing the tea. How did you know that I didn't sift the tea properly, didn't use enough teacups, or that I whisked it too vigorously?"

“These things don’t always require you to be watching,” he said. “By looking at the results, the process becomes clear.”

The Lonely City Closes (The Princess Who Fell in Love with a Eunuch) A basketful of rubble and pearls.

Chapter word count: 3100 Update time: 09-07-05 10:39

Loop

(2805 words)

I sensed the unspoken meaning in his words, and felt an unspeakable awkwardness. He simply gazed at me silently, saying nothing more. Only after the incense had burned out and the teacup had cooled did I speak: "Have you heard about my situation, sir?"

He replied, "I've heard some, but not much."

After hesitating for a long time, I finally couldn't hold back and asked him directly, "How is the princess now? Is she alright?"

"I only stayed in the palace for three days. The princess was at her residence, and I didn't see her. However, her condition must not be good," Mr. Zhang said, calmly recounting what he knew. "It is said that after you left, the Emperor expelled all the high-ranking eunuchs from the princess's residence and ordered a change in the provincial system. From now on, there will be no more supervisors. Instead, one eunuch over forty years old and one envoy over fifty years old will be selected to serve in the princess's residence. The remaining eunuchs serving the princess must be under fifteen years old. Later, the Palace Attendant Censor Lü Hui reported that Princess Yan's wet nurse, Lady Han of Changli County, had encouraged the princess to petition the Emperor to promote her nephew-in-law Yu Run, and had also stolen items from the princess's residence for her own use. He asked the Emperor to investigate this matter. As a result, the Emperor issued an edict demoting Yu Run and stripping Lady Han of her title, forbidding her from serving the princess anymore."

I asked in surprise, "Even Lord Han isn't by the princess's side anymore?"