Chapter Six: The Fragrance of Threefold Wine

A tranquil night passed.

With the arrival of dawn, a gentle, misty rain began to fall outside. Li Zisheng stood beneath the open sky, letting the raindrops soak him. He took deep breaths of the fresh air—since leaving Tianshui Village, he had not inhaled such purity.

“Master, an umbrella,” Eight Taels appeared behind him, offering an oil-paper umbrella.

Li Zisheng glanced at his already damp clothes and accepted the umbrella.

“Eight Taels, nothing awaits us today. Let’s stroll through the streets,” Li Zisheng gave the instruction without turning.

Neither mentioned the events of the previous day.

“General, Li Zisheng and his servant have left the camp and entered the marketplace of Lecheng,” reported a soldier.

In the main tent, General Deng seemed to watch the two departing figures.

“Master Lin, do you think Li Zisheng might carry relics belonging to Cheng Zhongliang?”

“General, Governor Zhang is a cunning man, and now appointed Grand Marshal of the Guannei Circuit. With his father, Prime Minister Zhang Shuo, maneuvering at court, he would not make a move lightly. Since Governor Zhang has chosen this boy, it proves he is extraordinary. Even if he does not possess Cheng Zhongliang’s relics, he must serve some purpose, more than mere talent.”

“Your words are true, Master Lin. Though the boy is but eight, in my eyes his cunning rivals that of Zhong Bai. Yesterday, I observed his bearing—it was nothing like the profile you provided: merely a peasant’s son. He seemed more akin to a young heir from a wealthy house, accustomed to the world. That is what caught my eye. Otherwise, he is not remarkable. Talented people abound in our Tang Dynasty, as plentiful as fish in the river.”

“General, Li Zisheng will never content himself to serve beneath others. Being used by Governor Zhang, I saw discontent in his eyes. This suggests he knows nothing of Zhang’s plans. As for Cheng Zhongliang’s relics, he may have some knowledge but certainly not the deeper meaning behind them.”

Master Lin analyzed quietly. General Deng nodded, instructing the watchful soldiers to keep close, ensuring no harm would come to Li Zisheng in Lingzhou.

Within Zhong Bai’s tent, Zhong Bai addressed a boy of servant’s appearance.

“Deliver this letter to the master. Remember, it must be handed to him personally. If you lose it, find yourself a burial ground.”

“Yes, Master Zhong.”

“I hope Li Zisheng chooses wisely. May he not stray down a dark path.” Zhong Bai admired Li Zisheng and naturally hoped he would not repeat the fate of that youth from years past—whose family was ruined and life destroyed.

“Master, the rain’s getting heavier. Shall we find a tavern for some tea?” Eight Taels suggested, recalling Li Zisheng’s age—unlikely to partake in wine.

“Let’s go. I already smell the fragrance of wine,” Li Zisheng smiled faintly. He had lived in the Tang Dynasty for several years now, and had nearly forgotten the taste of wine. He loved tea and wine, but since coming to Tang, being still young, the family’s stores were not meant for him.

Following the scent, the two walked for quite some time, arriving at the depths of an alley.

“Three Flavors House.”

“Open a cask and a thousand guests are intoxicated; the aroma fills ten miles.”

“Master, this tavern boasts grandly. Deep in the alley, with few guests, yet claims to scent ten miles,” Eight Taels commented, disdainful.

Li Zisheng merely smiled and entered the tavern.

“Keeper, a bowl of wine. Let me taste if it truly intoxicates a thousand,” Eight Taels addressed the stout tavern keeper at the counter.

“Haha, young master, we have a rule here. Wine is not served casually. If you pass, you may ascend to the second floor. Would you like to try?”

Li Zisheng glanced at Eight Taels, amused.

“Very well, let’s see what the rule is,” Eight Taels’ curiosity was piqued.

“Our Three Flavors House has stood for over a hundred years, and its rule remains unchanged: anyone wishing to drink must compose a poem. The judges are the scholars upstairs and our chief keeper.”

“Compose a poem?” Eight Taels scratched his head and glanced at Li Zisheng, somewhat dejected. He was skilled at brawling, but not at literary arts.

Li Zisheng nodded with a smile.

“Keeper, please give the topic,” Li Zisheng stepped forward, smiling at the stout man.

“Alright, little master. You are young, so treat this as entertainment. Don’t take it to heart. The scholars upstairs are sharp-tongued,” the keeper remarked, noting Li Zisheng’s extraordinary bearing despite his ordinary attire, and assumed he had little learning.

Upstairs, the scholars, known for their biting critiques, frequented this place for poetic contests. Many left disappointed; only the elite could ascend to the second floor.

The morning rain brought scholars upstairs one after another. None expected the first challengers would be a child and a rather dull-looking man. Hopefully, the little one would not be reduced to tears.

“Young master, to drink upstairs, you must pass the poetry test. Otherwise, there is a price to pay.”

“What price?” Eight Taels pursued.

“Ten taels of snowflake silver,” the keeper replied, smiling, clearly hoping the pair would leave.

“What? Ten taels of silver? That’s robbery! Ten taels—enough for over a hundred bushels of rice! Is this a den of thieves?” Eight Taels’ jaw nearly dropped. When he once tried to pawn his mother’s keepsake, he hoped for five taels; this tavern demanded ten. Outrageous!

“Haha, master, don’t fret. The ten taels are only required if you fail. If you pass, not only may you ascend to the second floor, but henceforth, wine is free for you both.”

The keeper seemed accustomed to reactions like Eight Taels’, smiling without concern.

Li Zisheng was surprised as well. Ten taels of silver—his family’s yearly savings amounted to just fifteen. Clearly, the wine did not merit such a price; it must be the poetry contest that set the value.

Li Zisheng glanced at the stairs to the second floor and suddenly saw a new way to earn money. In feudal society, the distinction between scholars, peasants, artisans, and merchants was clear. But once a man amassed enough wealth, he could be chosen as a landlord or gentry. After all, no one begrudged themselves more riches.