As the water flows down the side of the pots, it forms beads that shimmer like silver scales. Dragon Shakes Off the Morning Dew After Sleeping.
He carefully scoops a set amount of tea leaves into the first pot, then swishes the water inside, each movement exaggerated for his audience to see. Dragon Encircles His Royal Residence.
With a quick turn of the wrist, he swirls the water three times, then pours it out into the tray from a great height, causing the people to gasp. It trickles into the basin below, not a drop wasted. Rolling Waves Announce His Displeasure.
He fills the first pot again with hot water, this time allowing the tea to steep.
Head bowed, he waits, and this is when the servants enter, presenting each of the judges with a dish of crystal shrimp.
When the time is up, he rinses the second pot again, and while it’s still steaming, he fills it with the steeped tea. Then the tea is carefully poured into each of the five teacups without spilling. The Dragon Enters the Palace, and the Usurper Is Cast Aside.
I admire the precision of his movements, and the way the golden tea obeys him.
“Look, look!” Those closest to the stage jostle, calling out as they gaze up at the performance. The steam from all five cups joins to form the brief, rippling outline of a dragon, before dissipating, demonstrating Shao’s competence in illusion magic.
Servants quickly step forward to ferry one of the small cups to each of the judges.
The results are unanimous. Each judge throws down a wooden tile on the floor below, to be picked up by an attendant and hung on a hook for all to see. Four purple tiles proclaim him Excellent.
“I would expect nothing less from one who apprenticed to the Esteemed Qian.” The princess smiles her approval, and I suppress an eye roll. Of course Shao is legacy. Already a front-runner, expected to win because he follows in the footsteps of a renowned mentor. “Tell me, is it true you had to pass tests, each more grueling than the last, in order to gain a spot as his apprentice?”
“I hope the princess will not ask me to divulge my teacher’s secrets,” Shao says with an edge of flirtation. The audience titters, then gives thunderous applause, scandalized and intrigued by this haughty and good-looking young man.
The competition continues, and I am so dazzled by the sheer variety of teas and techniques that I could almost forget the nausea roiling inside me.
Palate-cleansing white tea to accompany the sweets typical of Yún province, the high mountain streams feeding into tender leaves that provide notes of peppermint. Able to coax droplets of rain from the sky.
Roasted black tea with a rich and earthy flavor to counteract the spice of the broths favored by the people of Huá prefecture, a district to the west of Jia.
The heaviness of a fried taro dumpling is lightened by green tea mildly scented with flowers. Both specialties of a southern city nicknamed the City of Jasmine.
All the different cuisines and people celebrated are given their turn. Each time a region is announced, their people in the audience cheer. I can see then the cleverness of the competition. If the princess is looking to uplift the spirits of the people, as Bo implied, she has surely succeeded, dazzling their eyes and ensuring that every corner of Dàxī is seen and recognized. The public is intent, their reactions pure. They boo those they dislike, and cheer their favored competitors.
When Lian is called, I try to give her an encouraging smile, but her eyes are focused on the task ahead. She has lost her cheerful demeanor. She reaches the table and, head down, begins the ritual. But her hands shake so hard, the dish she lifts out of the tray slips and clatters against the teapots. I wince.
“Clumsy!” a faceless stranger jeers from within the crowd.
Lian jumps to her feet and bows. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Your Excellencies.”
“I’m only a minister and not worthy of such a title,” Minister Song says dryly, but not unkindly, and the spectators chuckle. “What is your name, child?”
“I’m Lian,” she says. “Of the Kallah plateau.” She names herself in her people’s way, no family name, and the marquis’s face twitches in response.
“There is no need to rush.” Minister Song gestures lightly. “Please, begin again.”
Like most of the others, Lian prepares her tea without speaking. There is only the clinking of the teapot as it is set on the wood, the slight clatter of the dishes against one another, but gentler this time.
The judges pick up the neat white rolls with their chopsticks and take a tentative bite.
“What is your dish?” the elder asks. “I have not tasted something like this before.”