After leaving Wanhua Garden, Ye Zhao headed home while Wei Feng entered the palace.
Wei Feng went straight to Changming Hall. This was the place where the tablets and portraits of past sages and emperors were enshrined. Aside from major sacrificial festivals, few people ever visited, save for the officials on duty.
The number of sages worthy of being enshrined alongside the imperial family in Changming Hall was few. In the four-hundred-year history of the State of Wei, the most eye-catching figure was Lord Tianshu, who had appeared out of nowhere thirty years ago.
His portrait hung in the very center of the right wall. Unlike the stiff, formal poses of the figures in the surrounding paintings, the man in this portrait was seated high upon a golden dais. He wore black robes edged with gold patterns, his ink-black hair half-bound. He leaned back in his chair with his legs crossed, one hand propping up his head near the corner of his eye. He looked out at the viewer with a gaze that seemed both careless and profoundly mysterious. Merely sitting there in such a languid posture, he possessed an aura that commanded absolute respect. Between his brows, a crimson flame sigil no larger than a fingernail was rendered with exceptional clarity, adding a touch of bewitching brilliance to his appearance.
That gaze seemed to pierce through the thin paper of the painting and look directly into the depths of one's soul. Wei Feng felt a chill and averted his eyes from the man’s gaze. Instead, he let his eyes trace the flawless, handsome face inch by inch, comparing it to the person in his mind.
"They truly look almost identical," Wei Feng murmured, his voice barely audible.
Then he reconsidered. No matter how much they looked alike, no one would ever mistake them for the same person. The reason was simple: the feeling they projected was as different as heaven and earth. One look was enough to ensure there was no possibility of confusion.
Even as a mere painting, the man on the wall exuded an overwhelming pressure—the mark of a powerhouse who, in his era, could turn his hand to summon clouds and turn it back to evoke rain.
As for Ye Zhao... Wei Feng recalled their few encounters. The boy seemed obedient, gentle, and the easiest target for bullying imaginable.
Wei Feng had come to the palace to confirm the reports from the Yulin Guard and to report the progress of the investigation to the Emperor. Although he had yet to catch anyone after all this time, making his report somewhat difficult to deliver, he felt he now understood why that group had targeted Ye Zhao.
His gaze fell upon the folding fan held in the left hand of the man in the portrait.
***
Ye Zhao knew nothing of this. He only knew that he had been very unlucky lately—extraordinarily unlucky!
When he returned home, his mother was in a foul mood. Usually, at times like this, Ye Zhao would consciously slip back to his room and hide, making sure not to get in her way.
Unexpectedly...
"Stop right there."
Madam Ye caught sight of a certain someone treading softly through the door and called out to him, her tone unreadable. "Where have you been?"
Ye Zhao gave a charming, obedient smile. While secretly relieved he had hidden the fan early, he answered honestly, "Someone invited me and Jiang Ziqi to Wanhua Garden, so we went for a stroll."
Madam Ye was clearly aware of the flower-viewing banquet at Wanhua Garden today. She frowned slightly. "Invited you to Wanhua Garden? Who? He..."
She cut herself off, her eyes scanning Ye Zhao from head to toe. A flash of tension and concern flickered in her gaze, as if she were worried he had been bullied. "Are you alright?"
Ye Zhao immediately felt bold enough to hop over to his mother’s side. He laughed. "What could happen to me? I even saw a lot of beautiful flowers. The trip was worth it!"
He spoke lightly and cheerfully, making no mention of the Grand Princess. He intentionally or unintentionally glossed over her previous question.
Hearing this, Madam Ye’s expression relaxed, but then she grew annoyed again as she remembered something else. "You! All you know is how to play all day long. If you don't learn some skills, how will you live in the future?"
"I can learn how to do business! If I have money, I'll live just fine!" Ye Zhao’s attitude was very proactive.
Madam Ye glanced at him. "Your father is a Vice Minister of Revenue, after all. Don't you want to enter officialdom?"
To be honest, Ye Zhao had no such desire. Seeing his father work diligently every day while walking on eggshells to navigate the storms of the imperial court, he wanted no part of it. "Mother, do you really think I'm cut out for that?"
Speaking from the heart, Madam Ye’s answer was: "No."
Asking him was merely a lingering hope of hers. She knew her own son; if he actually became an official, he would only end up digging his own grave. Her current mindset was a conflict between her rational mind knowing Ye Zhao wasn't capable and the irrepressible maternal wish for her child to become a "dragon." But reality being what it was, aside from being frustrated by his lack of ambition and making herself angry, she had no other choice.
"Then you shall follow me and learn business! Anyway, I've tried everything, but Zhixue Academy still refuses to take you back. If we're not going, we're not going. We won't go begging them with our heads bowed." Having said this, her anger dissipated, as if she had finally come to terms with it.
She had looked into the reason Ye Zhao had been expelled and didn't believe a word of it in her heart. Her son was the type of person who found even erotic art boring when it was placed right in front of him. She harbored deep resentment over Zhixue Academy framing her son, but she had endured it in hopes of getting him re-enrolled. Now that they had rejected him again, she was done pleading.
Ye Zhao: "Alright."
And so, he began his day-to-day studies in business. Perhaps because his teacher was now his mother, he learned exceptionally fast. Even Madam Ye began to think he had a natural talent for it.
Ye Zhao felt he had finally found his path in life. He would be a happy little merchant, earning money to support his family!
However, as he looked at the small tea house his mother had given him to practice with, he felt deeply that this path would not be easy.
Near the southern gate of the capital, just a few dozen paces into the city, stood a small two-story tea house on a street corner. The tea house looked like an orphan standing before a crowd of adults, squeezed into a protruding corner. Compared to the tall buildings and houses behind and beside it, it was pitifully dilapidated.
Outside the tea house hung a wooden plaque with the words "Qingping Tea House" written in a formal hand. The character for "Tea" was even split in half by a crack.
On his first day of work, Ye Zhao stared at the tea house, which seemed shrouded in the shadows of late autumn, and couldn't help but mutter, "...It really is a 'poverty' tea house!"
(Note: *Qingping* sounds similar to *Qingpin*, which means "destitute.")
Stepping inside, he saw that the name was indeed fitting. The first floor could only fit a few small tables. Many of the tables and chairs looked ancient, riddled with holes that made them look like "holey art." The stairs let out a tooth-aching creak when stepped upon, making one worry if they could support a person's weight. Worse yet, some of the steps were missing corners.
The entire tea house consisted of one manager and one waiter.
Oh, right—now there was a new young master taking office, and the original manager had been demoted to bookkeeper. Ye Zhao suspected his mother had probably forgotten about this tea house and only remembered it recently, throwing it to him just to test the waters.
Ye Zhao: "..."
She really was his biological mother.
As the days passed, Ye Zhao went from being serious and proactive to lounging behind the counter and napping every day while waiting for customers.
On this day, while Ye Zhao was in a daze, the door was suddenly pushed open.
"Are you the manager here?" A young, pleasant male voice sounded in front of the counter.
Ye Zhao snapped awake and immediately sprang up from his rocking chair. He cleared his throat and said solemnly, "Yes, I am."
The young gentleman before him was elegant and refined, dressed in the green robes of a scholar. He had a slender build and seemed to carry a faint scent of ink. For some reason, Ye Zhao felt the man was subtly sizing him up.
"Oh? Why is that?"
"This is a new tea our shop recently brought in," Ye Zhao replied.
The visitor asked, "I haven't heard of the other varieties you mentioned either. Are they all new teas?"
Ye Zhao smiled kindly. "...Yes."
The visitor seemed curious and asked further, "What kind of tea leaves are used? Where are they from?"
"They are all green tea leaves, sourced from a tea plantation."
*Hmm?*
Wasn't that the same as saying nothing at all?
After a while, the only guest in the shop understood what it meant to "hang a sheep's head while selling dog meat."
Su Jinzhou took a sip and set down the teacup. "Your tea... indeed has a very good name."
The emphasis was on the *name*. After tasting it, that was the only thing worth mentioning.
Ye Zhao hadn't lied; it was indeed "newly brought in" tea, meaning it was this year's fresh harvest, not a new variety of tea. The subtle art of wordplay was used vividly by Ye Zhao.
The guest asked again, "Do you have Pre-rain Longjing?"
Ye Zhao stood behind the counter, his smile as steady as ever despite the awkwardness. "No."
"...Biluochun?"
"Uh, no."
Su Jinzhou fell silent. "Then what kind of teas were those you mentioned earlier?"
He was genuinely puzzled. He already knew the names were just names, but since neither of these two famous teas fell under those categories, he couldn't imagine what "good" tea this shop could possibly have.
As the manager of a tea house so poor it couldn't even afford decent tea leaves, Ye Zhao replied without a hint of embarrassment, "They are green teas brewed from tea leaves. They are all brewed from this year's fresh harvest."
It was another answer that dodged the point. Su Jinzhou had a suspicion, but he still held onto a sliver of hope. "Then, what is the difference?"
"There seems to be... no difference."
Suddenly, the air went still.
A drop of cold sweat rolled down Ye Zhao's forehead. He maintained a polite but awkward smile.
Fine. No more questions. Su Jinzhou chose to drop the pitiful subject. Regardless, his purpose for coming here wasn't to drink tea.
"When did Young Master Ye become a tea house manager?"
Ye Zhao was stunned for a moment, not expecting the visitor to recognize him. "Uh, I just took over recently. Having nothing else to do, I had to find a job."
Su Jinzhou looked around the tea house and then calmly withdrew his gaze. His expression was flat. "Why didn't Madam Ye give Young Master Ye a more prosperous shop to manage? I recall there is a cloth shop in the west of the city with very good business. Is Young Master Ye not interested?"
Ye Zhao was surprised and found it strange. His family did indeed have a cloth shop in the west of the city with good business, but how did this man know?
A sense of oddity rose in Ye Zhao's heart. He lowered his eyes, flipping through the ledger as if casually. "I'm not interested. The cloth shop is better left to my mother. A person of leisure like me can't manage so many things."
After Ye Zhao spoke, the conversation stalled. Only he and Su Jinzhou were in the shop; the waiter had gone home for lunch, and the bookkeeper had taken some time off for unknown reasons.
"A few days ago, I heard Wanhua Garden held a flower-viewing banquet. I wonder if Young Master Ye attended?"
Logically, since the man knew about the event, he also knew that those invited were from noble families. Someone like Ye Zhao shouldn't have been on the list. But there were always exceptions. Ye Zhao hesitated on whether to tell the truth, finally giving an ambiguous answer: "I was lucky enough to take a stroll there."
Unexpectedly, the visitor knew more than he thought. "You toured it with Young Master Xie and the others, didn't you?"
Ye Zhao’s gaze sharpened. He looked up and began to scrutinize the man sitting at the table. "Not really. We just happened to run into each other. There was no real interaction."
No matter what the man's intentions were, Ye Zhao didn't want him to misunderstand. And it was the truth. There was no real relationship between him and Xie Yusong; it was just that one bizarre invitation, and that was the end of it.
Su Jinzhou didn't look at Ye Zhao. He just sat there quietly and took a sip of tea.
Even though he hadn't been present for everything that happened that day, he could easily find out afterward. As the top strategist under Prince Rong, he had that much capability. This naturally included the incident where the Grand Princess mistook Ye Zhao for someone else. Although the County Princess Xiyue had intentionally tried to downplay the matter, it wasn't hard to discover.
He also wanted to see if Ye Zhao really looked that much like Lord Tianshu. Unfortunately, he had never seen Lord Tianshu's portrait, so it was hard to compare. Having nothing better to do, he had come to see the "living version" and also to find out Xie Yusong's purpose in approaching this person.
"I'm afraid Xie Yusong wouldn't want to hear Young Master Ye say that," Su Jinzhou remarked. He knew exactly what kind of person Xie Yusong was.
"Hmm?" Ye Zhao was startled, then added, "But it's the truth."
Hearing this, Su Jinzhou turned to look at Ye Zhao and gave his first smile since entering the shop. Though it was just a slight twitch of the lips, the smile was faint and fleeting.
It was his first time seeing someone view Xie Yusong so indifferently—neither taking pride in being associated with him nor thinking that "Xie Yusong would be a very good friend."
Even if he hadn't discovered anything special about Ye Zhao during this visit, just learning this made his mood quite good.
"Farewell." Su Jinzhou left the tea money and departed as he had come, without leaving a trace of dust behind.
Ye Zhao was confused for a moment. What did he come for? To drink tea? Didn't seem like it.
He went to clear the teacup and found the man hadn't even finished a single cup.
Ye Zhao thought to himself, *What a wealthy eccentric.*
He refused to admit that it was because his shop's tea was so mediocre that it had driven the customer away.
***
