Chapter 115: The Great Recluse

Fujiwara Nobuo was exceedingly polite—so polite it was almost unbearable. Yesterday, he had sent a single polar bear pelt as a gift. Perhaps feeling that the offering was too modest, today he arrived with an entire cartload of presents, leaving them at the gatehouse.

Seeing the cart brimming with gifts, Zhen Qian was genuinely taken aback. After all, he was merely a minor landowner; such formality seemed unnecessary.

“Mr. Fujiwara... what are you doing? No man should accept rewards without merit. I absolutely cannot accept these gifts!”

Zhen Qian longed to seize the Japanese archipelago’s vast gold and silver mountains (which truly existed, not mere legend), but lacking the strength to do so, he was unwilling to accept gifts from the Japanese without clear cause.

“Official Zhen, the Land of Wa has long admired the culture of the Tang Dynasty. Meeting such talented and renowned gentlemen here in Tang naturally inspires a desire for friendship. These humble tokens are but a small gesture of respect; I hope Official Zhen will not refuse, lest the world doubts the sincerity of Wa’s friendship!”

Such straightforwardness was remarkable. No wonder Tang scholars toasted heartily with the Japanese envoys—the latter were truly willing to spare no expense! Since gifts were exchanged in kind, Zhen Qian naturally would not be impolite. If necessary, he could later send Fujiwara Nobuo a cartful of soap and perfume when the envoy returned home, letting him smile quietly to himself.

“Ha ha... I gratefully accept!” Zhen Qian invited Fujiwara Nobuo into the parlor and seated them according to protocol.

Fujiwara Nobuo stroked the sheepskin on the heated kang bed, marveling aloud: “Though the cold outside pierces to the bone, inside there is no brazier, yet it is exceptionally warm. Is this the so-called fire wall?”

Zhen Qian made no comment but added a few pine cones to the red clay brazier on the table. The kettle steamed as he poured tea from a purple teapot into white porcelain cups.

“Please try the Zhen family’s special black tea first, Mr. Fujiwara. It wards off chill, soothes the stomach, aids digestion, and stimulates the appetite.”

Fujiwara Nobuo, accustomed to Tang tea, had earlier noticed Zhen Qian silently preparing the tea utensils and thought he might perform a tea ceremony. But looking around, it seemed otherwise, and he dared not ask prematurely, so he deliberately shifted the conversation.

The tea in the white porcelain cup was a deep red, fragrant and rich. One sip revealed a strong, mellow flavor with a lingering sweetness, prompting him to exclaim, “Excellent tea! I am left wanting more; having tasted this, my journey is not in vain!”

“You really have quite the expressive face. It’s just kung fu tea; no need to act as if it’s the last sip of your life!” Zhen Qian inwardly despised these foreign barbarians who came to Tang wanting to learn everything, and if they failed, simply stole. They were crude and shameless. “Since you like it, take some with you when you leave. You won’t find this tea anywhere else!”

Surprisingly, Fujiwara Nobuo did not seem pleased but rather a little disappointed. “Official Zhen, you truly are unwilling to visit Wa with me? There, too, the people are simple and virtuous, the land fertile and cultured. If you find it uncomfortable there, you may return with the envoy after two or three years.”

Zhen Qian’s mood darkened. Never had he encountered someone so persistent. His face grew stern. “Mr. Fujiwara, do not mention this matter again, or I shall have no choice but to see you out!”

Seeing Zhen Qian’s displeasure, Fujiwara Nobuo quickly bowed in apology. “I was rash; please forgive me, Official Zhen!”

Zhen Qian softened his expression immediately. “Since you are here, why not dine at my home this noon?”

“Thank you!” Fujiwara Nobuo accepted readily, realizing he would not be leaving soon. “Yesterday, I drank too much. When I awoke, I found Official Zhen had already returned home. Today, I came to pay my respects and have brought someone along.”

“Someone?”

Before Zhen Qian could grasp what was happening, a woman wearing a veil entered. She first bowed to Fujiwara Nobuo. “Thank you, Mr. Fujiwara, for redeeming me!”

“That voice is oddly familiar.” Zhen Qian had seen her at the gate earlier, thinking she was Fujiwara Nobuo’s maid, but it seemed otherwise.

Fujiwara Nobuo turned to Zhen Qian. “This lady harbors feelings for you, Official Zhen. I fear you do not yet know. Come, meet her.”

The woman lifted her veil, and Zhen Qian was stunned. It was Xia He from the Yanchun Brothel! How did she come to be with Fujiwara Nobuo?

“This is...?”

“I am your servant, Xia He. Greetings, sir!”

“A perfect match of talent and beauty, a match made in heaven. Such a fine occasion calls for a drink. Xia He, attend to Official Zhen at once. When your union is fulfilled, do not forget this day!”

Zhen Qian smiled bitterly. Who ever said the Wa were straightforward? He knew Xia He’s intentions well. Unexpectedly, Fujiwara Nobuo had skillfully arranged matters; the lady had been delivered right to his door, and refusing was no longer an option.

“Thank you, Mr. Fujiwara. Indeed, today we shall drink heartily, to our acquaintance!”

“To lovers united at last!”

Zhen Qian curled his lip. When had he asked Fujiwara Nobuo to play matchmaker? He was beginning to suspect the envoy was not as simple as he appeared.

“How many are there in the world who are loved? If we kept every admirer in the backyard, wouldn’t it be overcrowded?” Only the emperor had the luxury of gathering all beauty in the imperial harem. Though Xia He had affections for him, that did not mean he could claim her as his own.

Fujiwara Nobuo smiled. He had noticed only a single bookboy inside the house so far. Compared to other wealthy families, this residence was indeed sparsely inhabited, possessing the air of a recluse. He could not help but think more highly of Zhen Qian.

“A true gentleman is one who hides in the wild, the city, or even at court, indifferent to fame and gain.”

Fujiwara Nobuo’s horses crowded the stable. Xia He lowered her gaze and stood demurely by Zhen Qian’s side, pleased that he did not reject her, eagerly serving tea and water.

Since Jiumiao had returned, there was no need to order food from the Drunken Immortal Tavern. Soon, the dishes were ready: a steaming hotpot of lamb spine, accompanied by several meat and vegetable side dishes, the warmth of the meal itself comforting.

In the Tang dynasty, people typically ate two meals a day; the three-meal custom became popular only in later times.

The first meal was called ‘morning meal’ or ‘yong.’ The ancients marked time by the sun’s position; when the sun reached the southeast corner, called ‘yuzhong,’ the morning meal took place just before, at a time called ‘food hour,’ roughly around nine in the morning.

The second meal was called ‘evening meal’ or ‘sun,’ generally eaten at ‘shen’ time, about four in the afternoon. Hence the character for ‘sun’ relates to that hour.

Since there were only two meals a day and people worked from sunrise to sunset, the ancients did not take midday naps.

There is a story illustrating this habit: Confucius once scolded his disciple Zai Yu for napping during the day, saying, “Rotten wood cannot be carved, dung walls cannot be plastered—what fault have I in this?”

Why was Confucius so angry about a student sleeping? Because the midday nap fell between meals: eat, sleep, wake, eat again, and soon night would fall. No work would be done. The ancient daily routine revolved around these two meals.

Fujiwara Nobuo eyed the bubbling hotpot with curiosity. The Tang dynasty had both individual and communal dining customs. Typically, communal dining occurred only during outdoor outings, akin to modern shared meals. The higher the level of the banquet, the more emphasis placed on individual servings. Fujiwara Nobuo was no rustic; he had attended imperial banquets and frequented upscale taverns in Chang’an, yet he had never seen such dining utensils or arrangements before.

“What is this...?”

“This is a ‘Mandarin Duck’ hotpot, half clear broth, half spicy red broth, with various ingredients and side dishes alongside.” Zhen Qian picked up a slice of fish, expertly cut thin as cicada wings by Jiumiao. The fish cooked quickly when dipped in the broth and melted on the tongue with the sauce. “Try some!”

Fujiwara Nobuo imitated Zhen Qian’s actions carefully, fearing any misstep might cause offense. He picked up a roll of lamb, dipped it into the pot, and watched as the red-and-white mutton turned a deep brown. Drenched in sauce and eaten, the tender lamb and rich broth burst with flavor, making Fujiwara Nobuo’s eyes light up. “A delicacy of this world—how delightful!”