"Aunt Xu, once we're back in the capital, please inquire about the leaves used in that tea we had. Find out if there are places where such trees grow in abundance," Jiang Huaiyu instructed, her voice calm yet thoughtful.
Tea leaves as they were known in her previous life didn't exist in Dayun. Instead, people used fresh or sun-dried leaves from tea trees, often mixing them with various herbs to brew tea. The resulting concoctions were rich in flavor but often too medicinal, reminiscent of traditional remedies.
No one in this land had discovered the transformative potential of tea leaves when processed—whether roasted, steamed, or sun-dried. The resulting product could be steeped in hot water, offering a pure yet varied flavor, both refreshing and comforting. Tea was an accessible luxury: equally suited to the gilded tables of the aristocracy and the modest roadside stalls where weary travelers could quench their thirst.
Jiang Huaiyu hoped to provide displaced people with opportunities for stability. She knew she couldn't save the entire kingdom, but even small measures mattered. Dayun's facade of prosperity concealed decay beneath, and this illusion of a golden age felt increasingly fragile. Her intentions were not for fame or wealth; she simply wanted to help those who had lost everything find a place to call home and a warm meal to eat.
As she sat in the quiet of the Silver Ginkgo Courtyard, the distant hum of chanting mixed with the chirping of birds, a strange harmony in the air.
"Once we've finished eating, let's pack up and head back," she said, brushing a golden ginkgo leaf from her skirt. Watching it flutter down, she bent to pick it up. Despite its small imperfections, she smiled. "I'll press this in a book when we return. It's Sugar Bun's first outing; we should keep a memento."
Aunt Xu chuckled as she wiped the table. "That's a lovely idea, Madam."
After the meal, the group packed their things and prepared to leave. As they stepped out of the courtyard, Daoist Li Shuhan, holding a celestial chart, happened to cross their path. His expression lit up in mild surprise. "Madam Jiang, are you leaving already?"
She nodded with a polite smile. "We've taken in the scenery and enjoyed a meal. It's time to return home."
"Of course!" Li Shuhan clasped his hands respectfully. "Madam Jiang, your six words of wisdom today have been a revelation. I cannot repay this kindness. Though I hold no official rank, should you ever need assistance in the capital, please send word to me. I may be able to help."
His sincerity made Jiang Huaiyu pause. It wasn't often people spoke so plainly. She blinked before responding, "You're too kind, Daoist Li. Wisdom is universal; what one takes from it depends on their own comprehension. It's getting late, so I won't impose any further."
Li Shuhan could sense her polite detachment and smiled wryly. "Safe travels, then. May your journey home be smooth."
The carriage driver had been dozing off by the time they returned. As the group climbed aboard, he straightened up and urged the horses forward. The ride back was uneventful but tiring. After a day of hiking and the jostling of the carriage, everyone was ready to collapse into bed.
By the time warm water was brought for washing, Sugar Bun, who had spent the day being passed from one pair of arms to another, was already fast asleep. The household quickly settled into a deep slumber.
The next morning, though, aching muscles betrayed their excursion. Aunt Xu and the others shuffled about with stiff legs, prompting amused laughter from Jiang Huaiyu.
"It seems we should make outings like this a habit," she teased. "It wouldn't hurt to keep our bodies limber."
"I thought I was active enough with all the walking I do, but climbing that mountain proved me wrong," Little Grass admitted with a sheepish grin.
"I'll be out for lunch today," Jiang Huaiyu informed them. "Little Grass, come with me. Aunt Xu, you and Pearl stay home to watch over Sugar Bun. If anyone you don't recognize comes by, don't let them in."
The new restaurant she co-owned with Qin Ziqin and Jin Chong was ready for its soft opening. It wasn't yet open to the public; today was just for the three owners to taste the menu. Since it wouldn't be an appropriate setting for Sugar Bun, he would stay behind.
"Yes, Madam," Aunt Xu agreed.
Waiting just outside the alley was a soft sedan chair, its bearers standing at attention.
"Are you Madam Jiang, heading to River's Edge Pavilion?" one of the chair-bearers asked with a smile. "Young Master Jin sent us to wait here for you."
Jiang Huaiyu nodded, stepping gracefully into the sedan as the curtain was lifted for her.
The restaurant's name, River's Edge Pavilion, was a rare instance of agreement between Qin Ziqin and Jin Chong. Though the so-called "river" was no more than a modest canal running east to west, the multi-tiered establishment perched along its banks presented a striking image. When the windows were opened, diners could take in the serene waters and gentle breezes. The two men had exaggerated the grandeur by calling it a pavilion by the great river, but the name had stuck.
True to form, the pair had spared no expense in construction. While Jiang Huaiyu had refrained from giving too much input—the specifics of traditional mortise-and-tenon carpentry were beyond her expertise—she marveled at the results.
The five-story building stood tall and elegant, each floor slightly smaller than the one below, culminating in an intimate uppermost level reserved for distinguished guests.
As she approached the entrance, a stern-looking middle-aged man dressed in plain but refined garments stepped forward to greet her. "Madam Jiang, my young master and the marquis have been expecting you."
"They're here already? What could they possibly be doing this early?" she mused.
"They supervised every detail of the construction," the steward explained with a faint smile. "They've grown quite attached, I imagine."
"That makes sense." Jiang Huaiyu nodded and followed him inside.
The top floor of the restaurant was a single, spacious room rather than being divided into private booths. The decor was exquisite, with intricate carvings adorning the beams and walls. One side of the room opened onto a panoramic view of the river below. At this hour, the sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm glow over the water and bathing the room in soft light.
Jiang Huaiyu paused to admire the scene. "You two certainly know how to indulge. No wonder you arrived so early—you've been up here enjoying the view."
Jin Chong, leaning casually against a pillar, smirked. "Naturally. It takes a true connoisseur to appreciate a place like this. You won't find a more refined establishment anywhere."
From his spot lounging on a cushioned seat, Qin Ziqin scoffed. "If it weren't for Jiang Huaiyu's recipes, your 'refined establishment' would just be an overpriced lookout point."
"I never claimed sole credit!" Jin Chong retorted, shooting him a glare.
Jiang Huaiyu ignored their bickering, taking a seat with an air of practiced indifference. "When do we begin tasting the dishes?"
Jin Chong waved dismissively. "Soon. We've whittled the kitchen staff down to eight chefs. Today, they'll each prepare their specialties. Two out of three votes will determine who stays."
Jiang Huaiyu nodded in approval. "Good."
Leaning back against the cushions, Qin Ziqin shot her a curious look. "I heard you went to Mount Hua yesterday. Find anything interesting?"
Jiang Huaiyu's expression cooled at the mention of him. Her thoughts flickered briefly to his cousin, Li Qingruo, and her forced smile faded. "Nothing worth mentioning."
Qin Ziqin raised an eyebrow. "What's gotten into you? Did someone upset you?"
Jiang Huaiyu cast him a sidelong glance, her tone biting despite its softness. "Not at all."
The marquis blinked, uncharacteristically at a loss. For someone known as the capital's incorrigible flirt, Qin Ziqin had never been more confused. What could he possibly have done wrong this time?