It can’t really be called a teahouse, because there isn’t even a tea shop owner, only poor tea drinkers coming and going.
It is said that this was once the best teahouse in Chizhou. The owner was not only an excellent tea-making craftsman, but also a hermit. There were always lay Buddhists and ascetics who came here to visit. Over time, the reputation and fragrance of tea spread thousands of miles away, and it became quite famous.
Unexpectedly, the owner later died of illness, and the place gradually fell into disrepair. While the teahouse no longer makes its living from brewing tea, the scholars and Confucian scholars of the past still gather here, discussing and debating day and night, whether criticizing current affairs or seeking enlightenment. Participants take turns bringing their own fresh tea, each with their own teacup. One day they might drink Xiangjun Lanxue, the next they might enjoy Green Spring Jade Melon. Despite the dilapidated surroundings and the tattered clothing of the guests, there's a certain joy in being away from the world.
"Master, this should be it."
The person in the carriage murmured a response, and a hand with Buddhist beads gently lifted the curtain, revealing half of a somewhat tired face. His narrow eyes were now a little blurry. He only glanced at the teahouse door and said lightly, "Then go in."
It was almost dark, and the dim light from the oil lamps on the tattered tables in the teahouse made everyone's whispers seem a little mysterious.
There was some noise at the door, and two more people walked in.
According to past experience, not many people come to the teahouse at this time. The teahouse is busiest in the morning, and this time is when the wine shop business is the best.
But no one in the teahouse looked up at the two new guests. Everyone was immersed in their own small world around the tea table, dreaming a beautiful dream that had forgotten the world in the last ray of light.
The innermost part of the tea room was extremely dark, as if it had reached the end, and Zhongli Jing's footsteps stopped there.
"Wei Xiang, here."
An old man with a half-white beard was sparring with someone in calligraphy under an oil lamp. He caught a glimpse of the two men and suddenly said, "Young man, that place is sealed. You can't go in."
Zhongli actually turned around slowly, a smile appeared on his face, but the smile only stayed at the corner of his mouth, which looked a bit strange: "Thank you for the reminder, old man. I will be more careful now." After saying that, he gestured to the people around him.
Ding Weixiang took a step forward and gently grasped the hilt of the knife with his left hand.
There was a flash of white light in the room.
Before anyone could react to what was happening, the wooden boards nailed to the wall of the teahouse shattered, revealing a narrow door leading to the backyard.
I don't know how that person managed to cut with the knife, but he only cut off the door seal without damaging the door panel at all.
The young man who had spoken earlier no longer looked at the surprised faces in the room, and walked slowly into the narrow door covered with cobwebs and dust. His servant followed closely behind him and blocked the door panel that was lying on the ground.
Silence returned to the tea room. If it weren't for the scattered wood fragments on the ground, one would have doubted whether two people had actually walked through here. The spectators looked at each other in confusion, then plunged into a new round of debate, forgetting this strange person and incident.
In the backyard of the teahouse, Zhongli was walking on a pile of gravel, seemingly oblivious to the desolate scene around him.
There were originally some bamboos planted in the courtyard, but because no one had taken care of them for a long time, they were overgrown with weeds and dead branches. At the end of the gravel road was a small stone house with the door wide open, revealing the somewhat messy floor inside, as if it was still in the same state as when the owner hurriedly left.
Ding Weixiang placed a few simple carry-on luggage on the dusty table and couldn't help but frown. "This place is really shabby and shabby. Master, are you sure you want to stay here?"
"That's fine. Convenience is best." He walked straight towards the only bed in the room. It wasn't really a bed at all. The wooden planks at the head and foot were gone, leaving only two boards still tightly in place. "Besides, I've been to worse places before, so why bother?"
After saying this, he reached out and gently tapped the bed board. The bed board made a hollow sound that echoed in the empty stone house.
Seeing this, Ding Weixiang stepped forward and carefully moved one of the bed boards away, revealing an unfathomable black hole with faintly turbid air flowing out of it.
Zhongli seemed to have expected this. He sat by the cave entrance wearing his fur coat, his eyes half closed, not knowing what he was thinking about. His fingers stroked the heavy Buddhist beads on his wrist, which now had exactly twenty-one beads.
Looking closely, the beads are connected by a thin golden thread. They are not as round as ordinary Buddhist beads, and each shape is not very similar. Some are long, some are short, some are round, and some are flat. The colors also vary from red to dark brown, but the texture of each bead is as smooth as jade. It can be seen at a glance that they have a long history and have always been worn close to the body.
After a long time, he finally opened his eyes, stretched out his left wrist, and gestured to Ding Weixiang who was standing beside him.
"Take one down."
Ding Weixiang didn't respond immediately, his face filled with worry. He rarely questioned an order, but he couldn't help but ask, "Zou Sifang's illness might just be a rumor. Why take the risk, Master?"
"If he has nothing to do with the secret seal, then he won't need this thing. On the other hand, if he does, then it's unavoidable. It's bound to come to this, so we might as well prepare early."
"But......"
"It's just one, it's not a big deal."
Ding Weixiang's tone was filled with a rare dissatisfaction: "Maybe it's just that one missing one."
The man finally looked at Ding Weixiang, his tone still calm: "Weixiang followed me, but are you scared to death?"
His voice was deeper than before, and the tone was no longer clear but a little hoarse. The previous indifferent and lofty feeling disappeared in an instant, leaving only the majesty of a superior.
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