If the capital city of Ba Sing Se represents the zenith of the former Earth Kingdom's refined culture, then its Upper Ring is the gleaming apex that broadcasts this sophistication to the world.
As the political and cultural heart of the city, the Upper Ring nurtures the subtle arts of expression. Poetry, painting, and prose, under the tutelage of some of the most brilliant minds in history. Beyond the monumental classics and pioneering works that echo through time, the district's cultural refinement extends even to the most unassuming rituals, such as the simple act of brewing and savoring tea.
In the latter case, Ba Sing Se's finest tea artisans hail from all walks of life. The city's most illustrious teahouse, established by a man who wasn't even native to the continent, has captured the imagination of the world. Some claim the late brewmaster was a sage of unparalleled wisdom, others whisper legends of his immortality, painting him as a deity worthy of veneration. Yet the only indisputable truth is that he lived long enough to embrace peace, a concept as enigmatic as it is profound, left for each admirer to interpret.
"Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon," two elegant hostesses greeted warmly as patrons crossed the threshold of the double doors.
The entire staff of Grandma Jin's humble eatery had gathered to celebrate their recent triumph, and with them came Satchiko. Or more accurately, she had been dragged along by her sister to witness the alleged splendor of the world's finest teahouse, an accolade that meant little to someone indifferent to the subtleties of steeped leaves in hot water.
Yet, even to Satchiko's critical eye, the building itself was undeniably remarkable. The establishment radiated elegance, an immaculately tiled teahouse with a serene patio adorned with lush greenery. At the heart lay a rectangular fountain crowned with a statue of an elderly man, undoubtedly a figure of great significance to the Jasmine Dragon's storied history. According to Mayumi's employer, Jin, this teahouse was celebrated for its legendary brew. Established before the conclusion of the Hundred Years War, it prided itself on a sacred constancy, the recipe had remained untouched, every cup a flawless echo of the original tea master's vision. The brewing times, the choice of leaves, the precise method, all were immutable, preserved as though tampering would dishonor the brewmaster's legacy.
"So, what did you and Lady Te discuss?" Satchiko inquired, her tone edged with curiosity. "Did she agree to take on a student?"
"Unfortunately, no," Mayumi admitted, the shadow of disappointment flickering across her face. Yet, ever determined, she had vowed to explore other avenues, though the likelihood of finding scholars willing to teach for free seemed slim.
For now, Mayumi chose to immerse herself in the experience of this revered establishment, a veritable shrine for tea enthusiasts across the Four Nations. Some aficionados even claimed that no one could call themselves a true connoisseur without a pilgrimage to this hallowed ground.
"I'm surprised you've got room for more tea," Satchiko added. "Didn't you just come back from a garden overflowing with tea plants?"
"But it's the artistry of preparation that sets this place apart," Mayumi countered lightly. "Tea isn't merely a drink, it's a way of life, a cornerstone of culture. I want both of us to taste what makes the Jasmine Dragon's brew the finest in the world. I'm sure even you will appreciate it."
"You're starting to sound like dad," Satchiko remarked, a note of fondness in her voice. Glancing around, her thoughts wandered to the powder used for flavoring desserts. "Do you think they serve matcha here?"
As they stepped inside, the grandeur of the interior revealed itself. Every detail spoke of painstaking craftsmanship and reverence for tradition. Sunlight streamed through skillfully crafted windows, illuminating the dining hall in a golden glow. Yellow and green lanterns, each an exquisite work of art, dangled from the ceiling, their intricate designs mesmerizing. But it was the walls that commanded attention, lined with scrolls of calligraphy and poetry, each extolling the virtues of the Jasmine Dragon's legendary brewmaster. These framed relics served as testimonials, written by scholars and dignitaries across generations, solidifying the teahouse's unparalleled reputation.
Their footsteps fell softly on a long rectangular carpet that stretched from the entrance to the far end of the room. Embroidered in gold, the design depicted two magnificent creatures entwined in an eternal dance.
"Dragons," Mayumi murmured, her gaze tracing the mythical beasts. Satchiko, distracted, inadvertently stepped on one of their heads.
These creatures, Mayumi knew, held an almost divine status among the Four Nations. According to legend, it was dragons who had taught the ancestors of the Fire Nation to wield their dangerous flames with balance and grace. Though revered as symbols of royalty and wisdom, their numbers had dwindled, driven to near extinction by the greed and cruelty of humankind. Even the Firelord's emblematic ties to the dragons had not spared them from such a tragic fate.
The cruelty of humans, if not obvious already, knows no bounds.
The march across the hall unfolded amidst the gentle hum of patrons savoring their tea. The warm brews were enjoyed in quiet reverie, their faces marked with blissful delight as if clinging to a moment of tranquil eternity. Satchiko couldn't help but compare this scene to Jin's bustling eatery, amused by the stark contrast between these refined, cultured tea enthusiasts and the raucous soldiers who frequented her employer's establishment, often drowning themselves in too many cups of strong liquor.
Though the Jasmine Dragon served nothing but tea, the dark-robed waitresses flitted about tirelessly, tending to brimming tables and refilling porcelain cups that seemed insatiable. Even these patrons, paragons of decorum, revealed a voracious side that felt almost unbecoming of their lofty station.
"All these people came here just for tea?" Satchiko asked, her gaze scanning the room. Not a single pastry or loaf of bread graced the round wooden tables. On Kyoshi Island, tea was often accompanied by sweet red bean paste to counterbalance the grassy bitterness of green tea, a habit her own mother upheld, unable to tolerate anything sweeter than wild berries. "Can't they just make tea at home?"
Mayumi placed a reassuring hand on her sister's shoulder, sensing the skepticism. Though the world revered tea as a refined beverage, each nation boasting its unique interpretation, there are always those who dismissed it as nothing more than boiled leaves in water.
"Sister," Mayumi began gently, "I understand your lack of enthusiasm, but please, try to enjoy yourself." She gestured toward the seated patrons, their serene expressions reflecting the rare reprieve from life's relentless pace. The atmosphere, though steeped in luxury, carried a subtle humility, a delicate harmony that wise sages often described as the perfect dance of balance. "Trust me, once you've tasted the tea brewed here, you'll become a tea lover too, just like Father!"
Satchiko raised an eyebrow, skepticism unshaken. She envisioned her sister conjuring an exaggerated image of herself, sipping tea with practiced elegance. "I'm not so sure," she replied, glancing at the calligraphy above the entrance. "Honestly, Mayumi, how do I know becoming a tea lover doesn't come with strings attached? Whenever you and Orihime host tea parties with the other sisters, there's always gossip involved. And not everyone even likes tea."
Mayumi's gaze also wandered to the proverb displayed above the entrance, just as Satchiko read it aloud with a mischievous twist.
"It is better to go three days without tea than one day without food," Satchiko quipped. "Personally, I'd rather skip the tea and eat. But for your sake, I'll give it a try."
"Thank you, sister," Mayumi said with a small, appreciative smile.
The sisters walked the length of the richly embroidered carpet, until they reached the table where Mayumi's coworkers had gathered. Unsurprisingly, the waitresses were indulging in animated complaints, their voices tinged with the naïve dramatics of unrequited affection. For clueless girls, romanticized idea of love and affection can be like a poison.
"Grandma Jin, I don't understand!" one of the young waitresses lamented, bordering on a childlike whine. "What did I do wrong? I wore my finest dress, brushed my hair like the Upper Ring ladies, and even tried to act graceful and refined! Why wasn't he charmed by me?" Despite the worker and employer relationship, Jin oftentimes acts more like a wise grandmother. With age comes with wisdom, well, same maybe goes true with advice on romance.
"Don't fret, my child," Jin said, patting the worker's shoulder. "Love is a fickle and complicated thing. It's not something you can master in a day. Remember, you don't need to pretend to be someone you're not. Sometimes, simply being yourself is enough." She is obviously referring to how the young lady's decision to imitate a noblewoman have played against her. While imitation can be interpreted as the sincerest form of flattery, in some cases it's plain asinine. An ugly turtle-duckling pretending to be an elegant eel-swam can fool no one.
The waitress nodded meekly, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude, returned to the tea. Mayumi exchanged a knowing glance with Satchiko before stepping forward to greet Jin.
"You've done well for a novice," Jin said warmly, her pride evident. "Come, have some refreshments. I got it covered."
Mayumi guided Satchiko to the counter, where the current brewmaster, a quiet and enigmatic figure, tended to an impressive array of tea leaves.
Before they could place their order, Satchiko's attention was drawn to a peculiar stone statue perched on the counter. It depicted a monkey adorned with bejeweled eyes and a ruby necklace, its carved teeth bared in an unsettling grin. The statue, though exotic, felt oddly out of place amid the room's otherwise harmonious decoration.
Returning her focus to the brewmaster, Satchiko studied the man carefully. The locals spoke of him in hushed tones, describing him as a master herbalist with a reputation for testing even poisonous plants on himself. Though his methods were controversial, his craft had only elevated the Jasmine Dragon's legendary reputation, its brew now celebrated far and wide.
Still, Satchiko couldn't help but notice his unusual disposition. Two small, pointed bumps protruded from his forehead, a feature she suspected might be the work of spirits. Stories from traders spoke of strange transformations wrought by the supernatural, but she wisely chose to keep such observations to herself.
"Master Shen Nong," Jin greeted warmly, her tone carrying the ease of familiarity. "This is my newest employee. Any tea she orders, it's on me."
The bearded Shen Nong replied with a deep, resonant voice, not bothering to lift his gaze from the steaming pots of tea before him. "Well met." His concentration was absolute, every movement meticulous in scrutinizing the tea leaves, ensuring each ingredient is in perfect harmony to create a brew of unparalleled flavor.
Mayumi bowed slightly before speaking. "Sir, may I please have a teapot of your finest Pu'er tea?"
Shen Nong offered no verbal response but moved with practiced precision. His slender, dexterous hands reached into a compartment on a nearby shelf, retrieving a small, compressed sphere of fermented tea leaves. With swift, deliberate movements, he cut the tea into pieces, rinsed it, and placed it into an exquisite porcelain teapot. He then set the pot gently over a small flame.
Mayumi watched the process with quiet reverence, mesmerized by the artistry in each of the herbalist's actions. The methodical grace with which he brewed the tea spoke to a lifetime of devotion to his craft. Meanwhile, a few of the waitresses stole glances at Mayumi's paper umbrella, their envious expressions masking a longing for its possession.
As the tea steeped, Jin turned her attention to the sisters, sparking a conversation about the Jasmine Dragon's storied history. She recounted how the teahouse's first master was the uncle of someone she had once dated in the Lower Ring. The pair had come to the city as refugees, with the uncle achieving fame as a master brewer whose tea captivated the citizens of Ba Sing Se.
"That sounds so romantic," Mayumi said wistfully after hearing the tale. "It's a shame you two didn't end up together."
"It is," Jin admitted with a melancholic sigh. "But I treasure the memories, even if they lasted only a short while." Her expression softened as she regarded Mayumi. "Time is precious, my dear. Cherish it while you can." With a chuckle, she turned and rejoined the other waitresses, leaving the sisters to their tea.
Moments later, Shen Nong completed his work with unwavering precision. He placed the teapot on a tray alongside two porcelain cups and a waitress brought it to the sisters' table. Pouring the tea with steady hands, she served the dark, reddish brew.
The brew is without a doubt exquisite, and a paramount staple to the world and especially to the Earth Kingdom culture. Mayumi cradled a cup in her hands, admiring its clarity. The absence of cloudiness revealed the tea's exceptional quality, the leaves handpicked from the finest. She took a delicate sip, closing her eyes to focus the senses on the taste. The aroma was complex and layered. It is floral, grassy, herbal, and faintly fruity, all blending seamlessly.
Satchiko watched her sister savoring the everlasting flavor. "Hey, big sis," she said, gently nudging Mayumi's shoulder. The gesture nearly caused her sister to spill the tea.
"Apologies," Mayumi said, regaining her composure. "I was just... surprised. This Pu'er tea rivals the famed White Dragon Bush. It even feels a bit like wine."
"That's to be expected," Shen Nong interjected while disintegrating some ingredients into powder. "Every ingredient here is sourced from the Six Great Tea Mountains. The recipe has remained unchanged since the first master of this shop brewed his first pot."
Satchiko lifted her own cup, inhaling the tea's aroma before taking a small sip. She winced slightly. "It's... a bit bitter."
The sound of grinding herbs abruptly stopped. Shen Nong turned his head slowly, his piercing gaze locking onto her.
"Um... Master Shen Nong," Satchiko ventured cautiously. "Could you add a little sugar? It might taste better that way." Her fondness of sweet flavor would have cast horror onto their tea-loving father. Now that she thought about it, it might not have been wise to propose this ingredient to a tea master right now.
Shen Nong's expression darkened. "Better? This tea is a gift, a medicine! Adding sugar would desecrate its purity, undermining both its flavor and its healing properties. To even suggest such a thing is utter heresy."
Satchiko grimaced, realizing her blunder. "I... I apologize," she stammered, quickly scanning the menu for an alternative. Her eyes landed on a more unconventional beverage, a lemon-infused tea with a hint of sweetness.
With a reluctant sigh, Shen Nong prepared her request. "At least you didn't ask for milk and sugar," he muttered. This did prompted Mayumi to interject lightly, who reminded that the Air Nomads of old brewed delectable tea with sweetening ingredients, which does not conflict with tradition.
"Here, youngster." Instead of porcelain, Satchiko's menu order was placed in a glass cup along with a straw. As a staunch traditionalist, Shen Nong's eyes narrowed when the girl happily picked up the cup and poured it into her wide mouth, forgetting all etiquette.
Expecting to rejoin Jin and the other waitresses, Satchiko was surprised when Mayumi suggested they take their drinks outside.
"Big sis, why are we—"
"I want to see the parade," Mayumi claimed, but lacking any excitement. "It's passing by here, isn't it?"
The Jasmine Dragon, with its prestige and location in the Upper Ring, often became a prime vantage point for grand processions. Scholars of great renown, whose achievements brought honor to the city, were sometimes celebrated with parades through these gilded streets.
...
If one were to ask an educated scholar in Ba Sing Se about their greatest aspiration, the most common answer would undoubtedly be to attain the coveted title of Zhuangyuan. Such a distinction represents the pinnacle of academic achievement and an entryway into the esteemed bureaucratic class of the Earth Kingdom.
To say that education is highly valued in Ba Sing Se would be a herculean understatement. It is the bedrock of societal status, a relentless pursuit of excellence revered by all. Those who excel within this rigorous system are exalted, their success celebrated as the crowning achievement of merit and dedication.
The streets outside the Jasmine Dragon teahouse is alive with energy, throngs of citizens gathering in anticipation of the procession that would honor the newly titled Zhuangyuan. Mayumi stepped out, her cup of freshly brewed tea in hand, blending into the crowd. She was joined by her colleagues from Jin's eatery, though their excitement betrayed overly ambitious intentions.
For those in Ba Sing Se, any scholar who rises to the rank of Zhuangyuan is a figure of immense envy and admiration. Such individuals are virtually guaranteed a seat among the elite bureaucrats, their paths forever altered. Even those from modest origins, like the Lower Ring, can ascend to unimaginable heights through this achievement.
Which also makes them very covetous.
"There he is!" one of the waitresses exclaimed, her voice drowned by the crowd. The group scrambled onto the decorative stonework of the teahouse, straining for a better view of the street. Heads turned as the once-empty avenue filled with the grandeur of the procession. Musicians, flag-bearers, and ceremonial escorts marched in synchronized rhythm, their presence solely heralding the approach of the Zhuangyuan.
One can scarcely fathom what it must feel like to walk in the White Scholar's footsteps at this very moment. To be venerated by an entire city, with his triumph cloaked in the shimmering veil of glamour and renown. The people of Ba Sing Se have long nurtured an almost sacred reverence for education. Day after day, children devote countless hours to their studies, steadfast in the belief that diligent memorization of ancient texts and philosophical treatises can transform poverty into prestige and pave the way to affluence.
The crowd watched with a mixture of awe and admiration as the parade moved forward. At its center rode Shan himself, perched atop a proud sorrel ostrich horse. His intricate official robes shimmered under the sunlight, their fine embroidery a testament to newfound status. Near him, a ceremonial umbrella-bearer walked steadily, shielding him from the elements.
Music filled the air, jubilant and triumphant, as the citizens of Ba Sing Se lined both sides of the street. For the ordinary folk, especially those from the Lower Ring, Shan's achievement represented hope, a reminder that talent and diligence could transcend barriers. For the city's scholars, however, it was a moment fraught with conflicting emotions. Admiration, jealousy, and the undeniable sting of personal inadequacy.
Near the Jasmine Dragon, Jin's waitresses waved enthusiastically, their voices raised in a futile attempt to attract the scholar's attention. One even hurled a flower toward him, missing her mark entirely and striking a flag-bearer in the face. Mayumi sighed, a mixture of exasperation and resignation settling over her. It was hard not to suspect that Grandma Jin's exuberant personality had rubbed off on the staff.
Still, Mayumi couldn't deny her own quiet intrigue toward the White Scholar. She watched the grand procession unfold, staring at the man himself.
"Behold, for this is the elation of a scholar when ambition is fulfilled," remarked a gentleman nearby, addressing his companions with a tone of reverence.
The parade, it seemed, spared no expense. The spectacle exceeded the grandeur of her island's annual Kyoshi Day celebrations, though it carried an air of academic and cultural prestige unique to Ba Sing Se. To become the Zhuangyuan was to hold the promise of immense influence, a voice in shaping policies that could affect not just the city but the entire Earth Kingdom. Wealth and power are inevitable companions to such a title.
And yet, for all the pomp and celebration, Shan's expression remained unreadable. His face bore no trace of joy or pride. He appeared detached from the festivity, as though contemplating something far removed from the adoration around him. Perhaps he viewed this moment as merely a stepping stone, the first of many in a grander vision. For those with boundless ambition, even the loftiest titles can feel like fleeting milestones.
Mayumi's gaze shifted to the white umbrella in her hand, its elegance contrasting sharply with practical sensibilities. Though it had shielded her from rain on occasion, its presence brought more inconvenience than comfort. For someone who simply wishes not to be noticed in a city teeming with noble intrigue and gossip, it was a conspicuous symbol, one that drew unwanted attention.
She sighed softly, knowing that prudence demanded its return. The umbrella, much like the procession before her, represented a world Mayumi was not eager to step into.
...
The sun blazed relentlessly, casting its unyielding glow at the height of noon. With not a single cloud to mar the azure expanse, Mayumi could not help but feel that the Upper Ring, bathed in such radiant light, is undeniably more resplendent than the middle district. As she walked, her eyes swept across the landscape, residential compounds adorned with rooftiles of burnished gold and deep amber, ostentatious symbols of the elite families' affluence, as well as their unspoken declarations of wealth and power.
The Zhuangyuan's grand procession, which had traversed the length of the city, must surely have concluded by now. Mayumi wandered the serene, delicate streets of the Upper Ring with an air of calm assurance, for she knew that her sister had long since returned with the rest of her class. Although reassured by the peace within the great walls, Mayumi's search for her elusive destination remained just that, elusive. Everywhere she looked, the Upper Ring exuded an excess of ornate beauty, yet it is precisely this overwhelming opulence that rendered everything indistinguishable, a blur of gilded facades and flawless decoration.
The gardens she passed were trimmed to perfection, their verdant lawns dotted with exotic flowers, while the houses themselves stood in majestic splendor. The owners spared no expense, their compounds replete with refined architectural flourishes meant to convey their elevated social standing. Even though these residences paled in comparison to the splendor of the Royal Palace, any structure within the Upper Ring would still be more extravagant than the modest wooden lodges she had grown up in. The roads, meticulously paved, offered a smooth ride for carriages, a marked contrast to the rutted dirt paths of her home.
As she continued, Mayumi drew closer to the massive walls that separated the Middle from the Upper Ring. She could almost make out the ornamental flowers and decorative plants woven into the very fabric of the walls, a clear indication that these bastions were not merely built for defense, but also physical manifestations of the gulf between social classes. The wealthier and more powerful citizens were inevitably afforded residences at the heart of the walled settlements, their proximity to the political epicenter a reflection of their influence and status. It is here, in this very space, that the White Scholar likely resided.
After meandering through a particularly dense area, Mayumi turned into a narrow alley, flanked by two imposing residential walls. She took a mental note of the surroundings. Compared to the humble wooden huts of her childhood, these walled compounds offered their inhabitants a higher degree of privacy, a feature ubiquitous in the Earth Kingdom's mainland architecture.
It was then that she heard a familiar voice, but one that lacked the usual harshness and abrasiveness. The voice, belonging to someone of her own age, enmeshed in the world of literature, its tone rich and melodic as it recited passages from a text.
"When he first enters the examination compound, laden with the heavy burden of his luggage, he is like a beggar," came the voice, likely from a courtyard nearby. "Next, as he undergoes the humiliating body search, berated by clerks and shouted at by soldiers, he is like a prisoner. And when he finally enters his cell, stretching his neck to peer out with the other candidates, he is like the larva of a scorpion-bee."
Mayumi continued her walk. She considers the use of animal analogies to be fanciful, yet uncomfortably cruel in its portrayal of the Keju examination participants.
"When the examination finally concludes, and he exits, his mind dazed, his legs unsteady, he is like a sick bird released from a cage. And as he waits, consumed by anxiety for the results to be announced, unable to sit still, his restlessness is like a hog-monkey on a leash."
Her steps quickened as she emerged from the alley and into a quieter, more peaceful street. The square walled compounds on either side, each crowned with golden rooftiles, stood in perfect harmony, all except for one.
Despite the tranquility that pervaded the area, an audible commotion disturbed the peace. Outside the lone residence, whose rooftiles were not gold but a muted green, a throng of household servants jostled for position. Each hailing from households with varying degrees of prestige, their voices a cacophony of flattery and obsequious words, all eager for the door to open.
Given the humble appearance of the residence, Mayumi deduced that it was a siheyuan, a far more modest dwelling than the lavish mansions or palaces typically occupied by the wealthy. Nevertheless, the dark green rooftiles still presented an anomaly. Those wealthy enough to reside in the Upper Ring often displayed their wealth through the sheer grandeur of their homes, yet this residence, simple and understated, betrayed little about its owner's social standing. Perhaps the White Scholar had chosen this humble abode out of personal preference, or perhaps it was a gesture of indifference.
"Respectable Zhuangyuan!" one of the retainers shouted, pounding relentlessly on the door. "Our esteemed Lady Mei has long admired your works of art. She has sent me to convey her affections and to propose a union, blessed by the spirits themselves!"
Another servant, not to be outdone, shoved the first aside, banging on the door with greater fervor. "Our Lady Hua also sends her congratulations! She would like to invite you to tea at the Hua mansion's garden!"
It was clear that most of these entreaties are less about admiration for the scholar and more about the ambition of the household patriarchs, who saw in Shan a potential match for their daughters. The sole aim is hoping to secure a marriage that would bring them closer to the levers of power. And with any culture that emphasize the importance of family ties, even the selection of spouses can be used as an avenue of enriching one's social standing.
As the tide of servants pressed forward, each vying for the scholar's attention, the door of the modest residence remained steadfastly shut. While some of the retainers hailed from lesser-known families, far below compared to the prestigious Te, Ximen, or Liu family, none could resist the allure of aligning themselves with a scholar destined for greatness. Even scheming merchants are unwilling to let such an opportunity slip through their fingers.
"Move aside!" shouted another contingent, their retainers garbed in hues of gold and white, forcefully clearing a path for two young men in resplendent robes to approach the door. Although the duo appeared less enthusiastic than their competitors.
"Alright, little brother," the older of the two instructed, pushing a small, silk-wrapped box into his younger sibling's hands. "When you see him, remember to show the utmost respect."
"But Father said you would be the one to present the gift!" the younger protested.
It is indeed more appropriate for the older sibling to lead a conversation, and that also applies in the ways of presenting gifts.
Mayumi watched the two brothers, noting their appearance. Based on their affluent appearances and unique robes, they appear even more refined than most Upper Ring citizens. With topknots instead of queues, they kept their appearances exceptionally clean. Almost too clean. Sterile even.
Amid their bickering, one of the brothers finally noticed her. His eyes narrowed with mild distaste as he took in her attire, clearly unimpressed. The younger brother, recognizing the umbrella she held, could hardly mask his disdain, pulling a silk handkerchief from his pocket to shield his face, as though her very presence offended him.
"Such a disheveled and uncouth servant!" the younger brother exclaimed, his voice dripping with disdain.
Before Mayumi could correct his erroneous assumption, the impeccably groomed gentleman extended the package towards her, his arms stiff and outstretched, as though attempting to avoid her presence as one would an infectious plague. "Don't just stand there, take it!"
Mayumi froze, her gaze fixed on the parcel with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "I don't work here," she replied, her tone calm yet firm. Ironically, she too sought an audience with the newly appointed Zhuangyuan, driven by motives that, in essence, aligned with her family's interests.
Despite her straightforward explanation, the two brothers remained unconvinced. The mere sight of her holding Shan's umbrella was enough to fuel a thousand rumors, most of which would undoubtedly be vile in nature.
"An amusing spectacle," the elder remarked, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. He drew his voluminous silken sleeves around the lower half of his face, as though to shield himself from an invisible stench. "I had thought the esteemed and talented Shan would at least have some copper coins left in his empty coffers. Yet, it appears he has been reduced to employing some gutter-born street rat like you. Despite the newfound Zhuangyuan title, he still lacks the refinement and eloquence of a true gentleman, such as us of the Gan Jin. It seems that they let anyone pass the Civil Service Examination these days!"
Almost on cue, the retinue of attendants laughed in unison with the brothers, a sound that truly tested Mayumi's restraint. In all her years teaching Kyoshi Warrior aspirants, she had never encountered such vulgarity. It seemed that not even the ancient wisdom and grandeur of Ba Sing Se could make up for the presence of insufferable Ganjinese arrogance.
After inhaling deeply, Mayumi once again asserted herself. "Sir, allow me to repeat, you are gravely mistaken. I do not work here. And even if I did, you are not adhering to the proper etiquette of gifting."
Her words fell on deaf ears. The younger brother, undeterred, set the gift down on the stone steps, insisting that it is her duty to deliver it to Shan.
"So, you claim to not be a servant?" The older brother raised a brow, tone laced with mockery. "Then I suppose you are merely a disposable street rat, one who will be discarded once your usefulness is spent. I had thought only that spoiled, tarnished Ximen Qing would indulge in such crudeness. Perhaps I have overestimated the White Scholar. Shan may have passed the civil service exams, but as expected of one who lacked the guidance of an Earth Sage, he too has succumbed to debauchery. Unlike us esteemed gentlemen of the Gan Jin tribe, we would never debase ourselves with such indecency—"
Before he could finish, the wooden doors creaked open. With a bamboo scroll in hand, the young scholar in pale robes stepped into view. Unperturbed by the farce unfolding on his doorstep, he finished reciting the final passage of the text, voice measured and articulate. "When at last the results are announced and he has definitely failed, he loses his vitality like one dead, rolls over on his side, and lies there without moving, like a poisoned fly. Then, when he pulls himself together and stands, provoked by every sight and sound, he flings away everything within his reach and complains of the illiteracy of the examiners. When he calms down, he finds everything in the room broken. At this moment, he is like a pigeon smashing its own precious eggs. These are the seven transformations of a candidate."
Shan rolled up his bamboo scroll with an air of finality, his gaze momentarily drifting to Mayumi before it settled on the older Ganjinese brother attempting to slip away. "Where are you going, Young Master Gong Zi? I thought you and your brother wished to meet with me."
The White Scholar's words immediately froze the two brothers and their entourage. Though they had once ridiculed Shan's supposed vulgarity, Gong Zi's insult now seemed impotent. Perhaps they had hoped to leave unnoticed, abandoning the gift from the Ganjinese patriarch without further interaction.
"Oh, it's you, Shan..." the younger brother waved awkwardly, offering a strained smile.
While the Keju examination is open to all, those from affluent families naturally had an advantage. But it also meant that for a noble son to fail is a disgrace, one that would bring shame to the entire family.
The elder Gan Jin brother, trying to maintain his composure, struggled to meet Shan's gaze. "My father sends his regards. He wishes to congratulate you on attaining the Zhuangyuan title." Gong Zi gestured towards the package near the stairs, insisting that Shan accept the gift.
Yet the White Scholar remained unmoved, his eyes never once glancing at the package.
"Please convey my thanks to him, Young Master Gong Zi," Shan replied evenly, his expression inscrutable. "Though I must admit, I was somewhat disappointed by your absence at the graduation ceremony." He descended the stone steps with an almost languid grace, leisurely fanning himself as he approached the brothers. Rivalry, even among scholars and gentlemen, is a palpable force, and it is no secret that it stung deeply when those born into privilege were outperformed by their less affluent peers. In this case, the son of the Gan Jin patriarch had failed to even attain the lowest qualification for official office, revealing his intellectual inferiority to a so-called calligraphy peddler.
Gong Zi and his younger brother fumbled for an excuse, but Shan's unflinching gaze seemed to dismiss them entirely.
"Perhaps I simply failed to notice you among the crowd, and for that, I apologize. But rest assured, while you may lack the talent to be scholars, your father will still find solace in knowing that should he ever need assistance, I will fulfill his requests according to the law." The White Scholar patted Gong Zi lightly on the shoulder with his closed fan. The gesture was small, but the younger brother visibly recoiled. But the heir of the Gan Jin patriarch refuses to let this subtle insult go unchallenged.
Gong Zi pointed toward Mayumi, his voice trembling slightly with suppressed fury. "We of the Gan Jin tribe are proud adherents of purity and cleanliness. We have an unspoken rule, only those unsullied can work with us. May I ask, who might she be?"
The Kyoshi Warrior fought the urge to strike the pedantic fool. Had this been Satchiko, the Ganjinese would have already been nursing a bloody nose.
"Is that truly your concern?" Shan said without even glancing at Mayumi. "Because from where I stand, your betrothal to Lady Qian Jin seems far more pressing, as your father himself has emphasized. While I understand your schedule must be demanding, is it truly wise to insult a person your esteemed father wishes to befriend? Or do you welcome yet another failure, one that might incur his wrath?" Shan continued, comparing Gong Zi to his peers in various aspects. In the cultural heart of the Earth Kingdom, young gentlemen of Ba Sing Se are always compared with one another, each excelling in their own traits. "In beauty, you are eclipsed by Pan Yu. In wealth, you are overshadowed by Ximen Qing. In intellect, I'm afraid yours truly might not find much to learn from you. But rest assured, I can envision you siring many capable heirs for the Gan Jin tribe. You certainly seem the type."
"Insolence!" the younger Ganjinese brother rebuked. "Are you labeling us as breeding sows!"
The elder brother nearly choked on his indignation, but found no immediate retort. It was well-known that for noble families like the Gan Jin, the continuation of the bloodline is of utmost importance. Gong Zi's pride is all but shattered until one of his attendants subtly reminded him of their patriarch's orders. Failing to cultivate a cordial relationship with a promising scholar might cost them the patriarchal succession.
Realizing it would be unwise to continue antagonizing Shan, Gong Zi swallowed his pride, understanding the value of alliances with future high-ranking officials. After offering a few hollow compliments, the two brothers, along with their retinue, retreated.
As the White Scholar prepared to close the door, he turned to Mayumi. "It seems we meet again, stranger. I see you are working for Grandma Jin. Did your troupe suffer some misfortune? What more is it that you wish to discuss?"
Realizing that no further individuals remained to pester the White Scholar, Mayumi finally presented the white umbrella, a subtle indication of her desire to relinquish this burdensome object.
"Thank you for entrusting this to me," she began, her voice carrying a note of quiet reluctance. "But alas, I fear it has fallen into unworthy hands."
The scholar's expression remained unaltered, betraying nothing of his thought. Whether he perceived her words as an offense or merely as indifference, Mayumi found herself at an impasse, utterly incapable of reading the man's inscrutable nature. Her unanticipated appearance during the Keju examination, clutching this parasol, could undoubtedly give rise to countless rumors detrimental to them both.
"Very well," he replied, tone neutral. "Please, enter."
Without further objection, the White Scholar left the door ajar, and Mayumi's hesitation dissipated the moment she noticed the previously expelled household servants now reappearing, each bearing gifts, letters, and invitations from their employers. Even more galling, they had returned with an expanded entourage, all eager to cultivate whatever connections they could with the newly inaugurated Zhuangyuan.
Mayumi barely suppressed her growing frustration as she swiftly stepped into the siheyuan's courtyard with Gong Zi's parcel, slamming the door behind, locking the intrusive retainers outside. On the other side, their disturbance was effectively contained by the sturdy walls of the small compound.
Turning to face her surroundings, she found herself in a modest courtyard, so typical of a siheyuan residence. The space, neatly enclosed by three buildings, featured a stone path leading to the main hall. A simple set of stone furniture stood under the open sky, and upon one of the tables, a half-eaten bowl of congee sat, forgotten.
Despite the unwanted noise beyond the walls, the courtyard is eerily quiet, a tranquility that unnerved her. Perhaps the scholar, in his seclusion, desired it so. Such a walled compound offered a sanctuary from the world, a fitting environment for the study of his craft, undisturbed by the clamor of external affairs.
"Are you dissatisfied with the umbrella, or has it failed you in some other regard?" Shan's voice broke the silence as he walked beside her, pausing when they reached the center of the courtyard. His back remained to her.
"I believe it has failed us both," Mayumi answered with a somber tone. "Our encounter during the ceremony was no more than a series of unfortunate coincidences. You, of all people, know it would serve better in the hands of its original owner."
"I suppose so," Shan responded, his words clipped and inscrutable.
His meaning hung in the air, open to interpretation. Mayumi relinquished the umbrella as they reached the far end of the courtyard. Shan opened the doors to the main hall, revealing a wooden rack adorned with a collection of umbrellas, far more than she had imagined.
It seemed that the Upper Ring ladies, with their insatiable desire for exclusive items, had fixated on what they believed to be a singular treasure. What amused Mayumi was the timing of their newfound infatuation, immediately after Shan's ascension as the highest-ranking scholar in the Civil Service Examination, conveniently forgetting that no patriarch would ever allow his daughter to marry an ordinary calligraphy peddler. Of course, she applies the exception to Lady Te.
Despite her disdain for his aloofness, the Kyoshi Warrior could not deny the scholar's undeniable talent. Even before her arrival in Ba Sing Se, she had seen some of his works. Indeed, they are worthy of admiration. But nothing compared to the walls of calligraphy and paintings within his personal dwelling, glimpsed briefly before Shan closed the doors to his personal dwelling again.
"Is there anything else?" he asked, tone neither warm nor hostile, merely flat and unreadable. Mayumi felt the weight of his gaze, a force that made her choose the next words with caution.
After a moment's pause, she cleared her throat softly, gathering her thoughts before speaking, hoping that the eloquence her father had instilled would help navigate this delicate negotiation. Or at the very least, she hoped the scholar would not prove a greater challenge than mediating between two bickering fishermen over the petty price of freshly caught eel.
"I understand," she began. "That a scholar of your stature is likely inundated with requests, all from influential families eager to secure your favor for their future political ambitions."
Shan nodded, his expression acknowledging the truth in her words. He had indeed received countless letters from the prominent families of the Upper Ring, each filled with invitations to tea parties or proposals for political marriages.
"And what does one such as myself offer you?" Shan said, already anticipating her next move. He snapped open the signature white fan with a crisp flourish, cooling himself with an air of calculated nonchalance. "What, I wonder, could a former theatre performer such as yourself wish to discuss? Every courier at my doorstep bears missives from masters of considerable wealth, arriving with either extravagant gifts or fawning letters. If even their trifles fail to pique my interest, what matter could possibly warrant yours truly's attention?"
A bead of sweat formed on Mayumi's brow as she considered his words. The servants outside are no mere commoners, each of their gifts could be worth its weight in gold. The betrothal letters they carried offered ties to the most powerful families in the Upper Ring, heiresses to vast fortunes. For most graduates of the Civil Service Examination, such offers would be irresistible. Even those trained by Earth Sages, whose teachings extol humility and virtue, easily succumbed to the allure of wealth and status.
It seems that White Scholar's casual indifference simply made it easier to overlook all these tempting gifts. If major Upper Ring families wishes to foster better ties with a potential official of prominence, they would spare no resources in that endeavor. So what then, can a girl from a backwater island ever offer if she also has a request from the White Scholar?
"I seek your tutelage," Mayumi finally declared, forcing herself to remain composed. "Not for myself, but for my sister."
Shan paused, his fan lowering, but expression still unreadable.
"Elaborate," he said, bordering on a command.
Mayumi explained her request, nearly mirroring the conversation she had once had with Lady Te. She spoke of her sister's potential, of the unique opportunity that could arise from having the White Scholar as her mentor. For scholars, passing on their knowledge is as significant as attaining an official post. It is an honor, a legacy worthy of admiration. Thus, this is the approach Mayumi had chosen, one that would simultaneously elevate the scholar's prestige and offer her sister the chance to learn from the finest.
"Yours truly is impressed with your audacity," Shan remarked after a long silence. "I too recognize the frailty of the so-called Earth Sages, those who masquerades as paragons of reason while upholding antiquated traditions that serve only to weaken the nation."
Just as Mayumi thought he might relent, Shan's next words dashed her hopes.
"However," he continued, "I do not offer my services freely. Many affluent families seek my talents in art and calligraphy, but you are the first to consider me as a potential lecturer. And I cannot foresee myself assuming such a role."
The truth of the matter was undeniable. The Civil Service Examination existed for men of talent to earn the right to hold office, to claim prestige and honor, with boundless opportunities as a city official. Few would willingly relinquish such opportunities to teach a country bumpkin.
"Wait!" Mayumi exclaimed, her heart pounding as Shan seemed ready to dismiss her from the premise. "I may not be wealthy, but I can offer something else in exchange."
Shan remained unmoved, his gaze distant, focused on the tranquil garden before him. Mayumi understood the hesitation. Scholars, like farmers and artisans, needed to earn a living. Whether by writing, tutoring, or creating art, all intellectuals required compensation for their time and efforts. But for a Zhuangyuan scholar, the price for such services could be astronomical. Besides, it's already ridiculous for a someone of her humble status to even request an Upper Ring scholar's service.
"I am willing to work for you," Mayumi suggested, voice steady despite the fluttering uncertainty.
Considering she had yet to encounter a single household retainer upon stepping through the siheyuan's threshold, it was reasonable to surmise that the competition for securing employment under the White Scholar is either scant or altogether nonexistent. Surely, her request could not rank among the more preposterous overtures he endured, especially when measured against the deluge of betrothal proposals and tea party invitations undoubtedly cluttering his doorstep.
"But why?" Shan asked, voice curious, though tinged with skepticism. "Why would you humble yourself to such a degree?"
It was a question Mayumi had not anticipated, and it took her a moment to fully comprehend its weight. Her decision, after all, was borne out of love and duty, a devotion to her sister that transcended all else. But as she met his gaze, she understood that Shan's worldview is not so easily swayed.
"It is as a son would not betray his father for the theft of a sheep," asserted the plainly dressed waitress. "I too would sacrifice everything in my path to protect my sister's future, just as how your family would give up everything for you."
The wind was the only sound that followed, a quiet, heavy silence stretching between them. Shan's expression remained unchanged, but Mayumi could not shake the feeling that he had yet to fully understand her conviction.
"You have overestimated the kindness of others," he said at last, carrying an edge of finality. It somehow sounded louder than his calm scholar demeanor.
No more words escaped Mayumi's lips. She remained silent, uncertain of what else could be said to persuade Shan of the merit in accepting a student under his tutelage. Unlike the outspoken and candid fishermen of Kyoshi Island, the citizens of this grand city concealed themselves behind impenetrable masks of decorum and ambiguity, a challenge she is still struggling to navigate.
With a respectful bow, she turned and made her way out of the siheyuan, heart drifting back to the familiar embrace of her humble village. The unassuming simplicity of home, its salty sea breeze, lively chatter, and unvarnished authenticity. It was irreplaceable, a truth that only deepened with each passing day spent here in the labyrinthine splendor of the city.
End of Chapter Notes:
-Shen Nong is a mythological ruler counted amongst the Three Sovereigns.