PFC Chapter 367 Springtime in Tea Ridge: A Bond Forged
Chapter 367 Springtime in Tea Ridge: A Bond Forged
The fresh tea in the bamboo basket was covered with morning dew, and it was half-filled with broken pieces of jade.
The little rhinoceros tiptoed, tugging at the tea tree branch, its bell-like laughter startling the sparrows flying from the branches.
"Brother, look! There's a crescent moon hanging on the tip of this bud!" She wore her hair in a double bun, and her green dress was embroidered with intertwined camellia patterns. As the hem of her dress swept across the tea bushes, it brought a refreshing fragrance.
The young man put down his bamboo basket and reached out to brush the tea dust from her hair. He was dressed in a moon-white robe with a jade belt around his waist. He should have been studying in the school in Chang'an, but instead he followed this troublesome little princess into the tea-growing region of Shu.
"Be careful the dew doesn't wet your skirt, or the palace maid will nag you when you get back." Zi'an smiled helplessly and tugged at her burning earlobe—this girl must have secretly shaken off her attendant again.
Tea farmer Zhang Yuanhu squatted on the edge of the field, weaving bamboo baskets, looking at the two young guests as if they were his own grandchildren.
Young sir, you may not know this, but our Naxi tea can be picked as early as spring, right after the Lantern Festival. You probably won't find it in Chang'an.
He tossed a handful of freshly roasted tea into the bamboo basket. "Last year, a Persian merchant tasted it and said he wanted to transport it to the Abbasid Caliphate, offering three cartloads of spices in exchange."
Xiao Sizi held the warm tea, the sweet aroma of honey lingering around her nose.
"Brother, smell this! It's sweeter than the cherries from the West Market in Chang'an."
She smacked her lips and pouted, "I secretly drank some of Father's purple bamboo shoot tea yesterday, and it wasn't as refreshing as this."
The young man was about to speak when she saw her eyes gleam. "Why don't we do what those merchants do and bring the tea back to the palace?"
As dusk settled over the tea plantation, they followed Zhang Yuanhu into the valley.
On the bluestone slabs of the Ancient Tea Horse Road, the hoofprints reflect the setting sun.
Little Sizi ran after his shadow, then suddenly pointed to the smoke rising from the chimneys in the distance and clapped her hands: "Look, doesn't it look like the fragrant mist when Mother is doing her hair?" The young man watched her leaping figure and suddenly remembered his father's words before he left: "The tea road in Sichuan connects to all corners of the world, just like the broad mind of the Tang Dynasty, which can embrace the winds and smoke of all nations."
Spending the night at the post station, the copper bells on the eaves tinkled in the spring breeze. Zhang Yuanhu brewed tea in an earthenware jar; as the tea boiled and formed crab-eye bubbles, he said, "Tomorrow morning I'll take you to see the morning mist along the Ancient Tea Horse Road; that's the real fairyland."
Xiao Sizi, holding a tea cake, began to doze off. The pearl hairpin at her temple trembled gently with her breath. The young man, reading by the light of an oil lamp, kept glancing at her tea-dampened lips out of the corner of his eye.
At dawn the next day, a thin mist hung in the air. They trod on the damp moss, joined the caravan, and embarked on the ancient, winding road.
Mist rises and falls, the distant tea hills appearing as if painted with vibrant colors, as if blurred by an invisible brush, layer upon layer of varying shades of green. Dewdrops hang from the tips of grass, poised to fall, reflecting the faint morning light.
Little Sizi suddenly stopped, her slender finger pointing into the depths of the clouds. A caravan of packhorses was traveling along the mountain ridge, carrying towering bundles of tea, their silhouettes appearing and disappearing in the flowing mist. "Brother, look!" she exclaimed, her voice clear and bright, filled with the joy of awakening. "What those horses are carrying, doesn't it look like the spring of the entire universe?"
The young man turned his head, his gaze falling on the soft hair that was bathed in the pale gold of the morning light. He knew nothing of the "universe," but felt as if his heart had been gently tickled by the tenderest bud of a new tea plant. This magnificent landscape, without someone to share it with, even at the height of the Tang Dynasty, seemed shrouded in dust.
On the way back, in Xiao Sizi's bamboo basket, freshly roasted tea leaves exuded an intoxicating chestnut aroma, and underneath lay quietly tea seeds, wrapped in brown seed coats, a gift from Zhang Yuanhu.
"When they sprout in Chang'an," she said, swaying the young man's purple-brown sleeves, the small golden bells on his hair ringing in his hair tinkling with each movement, their sound as clear as shattered jade, "brother, you must come with me to pick tea."
The young man didn't answer, only gazing into the distance. The rising sun leaped over the mountain pass, its molten gold light spilling down. He silently pressed this promise, imbued with the aroma of tea and the tinkling of golden bells, deep into the heart—as if in doing so, he could also seal away and transport the vast spring scenery of this tea-growing region, hiding it within the clamor of Chang'an's carriages and horses that would soon engulf them…
“Beep!!!!”
A sharp, hoarse car horn sounded, like a rusty, dull saw suddenly cutting into rotten wood, abruptly and violently pulling Li Shizhi out of the hazy atmosphere filled with the aroma of tea and morning mist!