The day began with a quiet breeze and the faint scent of wet stone drifting in from the mountains. Lin Xun stepped out of the teahouse with a broom in hand, brushing away the leaves and dust that had settled overnight. The sky was pale, the sun still hiding behind the far peaks, and the street was hushed in the hour before the city truly woke.
Across the lane, shutters creaked open. A tall man with a narrow face stepped out from the rival teahouse. His robe was neat, his hair bound with precise care, and his eyes flicked toward the Emerald Leaf with a glance sharp enough to cut paper. He carried a lacquered board under one arm and set it against his doorway, turning it until it caught the best angle of light.
Rare Mountain Spirit Tea… Guaranteed to Aid Breakthroughs.
The letters were fresh and bold, each stroke meant to draw the eye. Lin Xun let his gaze rest on it for only a moment before he returned to sweeping. Words might gather a crowd, but taste was what made them stay.
The street began to stir. A cart rolled by, its baskets piled high with red dates. Two boys hurried past with buckets hanging from a bamboo pole across their shoulders, the water sloshing in the early light. Somewhere down the street, the scent of steamed buns drifted through the air, warm and sweet.
The bell above the teahouse door gave its soft chime. The first customer of the day stepped in, an older man with a weathered face and steady hands marked by the calluses of long work. His robe was worn but clean, and his eyes held a calm that came from years of discipline.
"Cloudveil Green," he said with a slight bow.
Lin Xun prepared it with care, rinsing the leaves and pouring water that had cooled to just the right temperature. The scent rose immediately, clean and gentle, like rain falling on fresh leaves. The man took his seat by the window, sipping slowly as he watched the street with the stillness of someone who did not need to fill the silence.
More customers followed. Two shop girls in matching blue dresses ordered a pot to share with their sesame cakes, leaning close together as they spoke in low voices. A traveling peddler with a pack full of copper trinkets clinked his way inside, setting the pack by his feet as he warmed himself with a steaming cup. A young cultivator in pale yellow robes came next, his gaze quick and searching, as if every taste and sound were weighed for worth.
The air inside grew warmer, filled with the quiet clink of porcelain and the low hum of conversation. Outside, the rival teahouse had gathered a small crowd. The owner stood behind a long counter, pouring from a tall-spouted kettle into delicate glass cups. His movements were quick and practiced, his voice carrying over the street in bursts of practiced cheer. Passersby slowed, glancing between the two teahouses before stepping toward the noise.
The bell chimed again. Shen Lan entered, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword. She paused in the doorway, her gaze sweeping across the street in a single glance before she crossed to her usual table.
"He is making noise," she said.
Lin Xun poured her a cup without hurry. "Noise fades," he replied. "Taste remains."
She lifted the cup, breathing in the rising steam before drinking. "Then you will need a taste that cannot be matched."
---
The chance to prove that came not long after. Three disciples of the Red River Sect entered, their crimson cord hair ties marking their rank. They carried themselves with the ease of those used to being acknowledged wherever they went.
"We heard there is tea here that sharpens the flow of Qi," one of them said. "Do you have it?"
Lin Xun could have served them something modest. But modest tea would leave no memory. He reached for a small jar sealed with wax, its surface faintly scented by what lay within.
Inside were leaves of deep jade edged in pale silver... Silverleaf Spring, picked at the first light after winter's last frost. He measured the leaves with deliberate care, letting them fall into the pot in a slow cascade. When the water touched them, a crisp fragrance rose, cool and clean, like the first thaw after a long winter.
When poured, the tea was pale green in the cup, almost translucent. The disciples drank without speaking. Their breathing deepened, their posture eased, and the air around them seemed to shift as their Qi found a smoother path.
"This," their leader said at last, "is worth remembering."
They left without haggling over the price, and Lin Xun felt the faint hum of Qi within himself stir in answer. The exchange was complete, though no coin could match it.
---
By the time afternoon shadows stretched across the street, the rival's voice had grown quieter. Even so, he watched from his doorway whenever someone stepped into the Emerald Leaf.
The bell chimed again. The merchant guild representative from the day before entered, his pale blue robes as spotless as before. He set a small card on the counter as if it marked his claim.
"You are drawing attention," he said. "Attention can be guided… or scattered."
"I will guide it with my tea," Lin Xun replied.
The man's smile was thin, as though he already knew how this would end. "We will see."
He left without ordering, the faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the air.
---
Not long before closing, a boy appeared in the doorway. His clothes were patched, his hair tousled from wind. He clutched a folded slip of paper and stepped forward with a quick bow.
"Sir," he said, "this is for you."
Lin Xun unfolded it. The handwriting was sharp and deliberate.
If you wish to prove your tea, bring it to the East Market at dawn. One pot. One cup. Let the crowd decide.
No name was signed, but none was needed. The rival had spoken.
Shen Lan read over his shoulder. "Will you go?"
"If the crowd wishes to taste, I will serve," Lin Xun said.
The boy left with a small pouch of tea leaves as thanks. Outside, the street was quiet. The rival's shutters were closed, his sign's bright paint now dull in the fading light.
Lin Xun stood at the doorway for a long moment, breathing in the cool air. Somewhere beyond the rooftops, the East Market waited. Tomorrow, the steam would rise in clouds, voices would clash, and the truth would rest in a single cup.
---