It turns out that a high level of cultivation does not necessarily mean high tea-making skills.
Piaomiao's brewed tea was completely off, steeped too long, bitter and astringent, quite undrinkable.
Zhao Changhe, however, seemed to find it quite enjoyable, sipping it while reading, and drank several cups in a row without a word.
Piaomiao tried asking, "How is it?"
"Hmm, it's good," Zhao Changhe looked up and smiled, "Refreshing and invigorating, reminds me of a specialty we have called coffee at Zhao Mansion. I wonder if Tang Buqi's sea trade has found this; I'll remind him next time I see him."
"Coffee?" Piaomiao, puzzled, poured herself a cup and took a sip, then spat it out with a "pfft," embarrassed, said, "I'll brew it again."
"No need." Zhao Changhe returned to his book, "The important thing isn't the tea itself but that Piaomiao is brewing it for me."
"Even if it tastes bad?"
