The Wandering Emperor [Chapter Two]
A nondescript teahouse, Beijing
Shi Chunjing had led them well. They had a place to stay for a little while. And the food wasn’t half bad.
The emperor’s gaze drifted to the other customers. They were preoccupied with their own issues and didn’t pay him much attention. Some men were playing pai jiu like it was their job, unsmiling and methodical. A handful of common folk exchanged tired stories about rain, the harvest, and the vagaries of the gods. An old man sat by the fire, telling the fortunes of some youths in exchange for a coin.
Against such a backdrop, nobody noticed the little table at the side of the room where the emperor (incognito), Shi Chunjing, and Master Jin were seated, drinking tea.
Shi stood to pour them more tea. “Thank you, older brother,” the emperor said politely. Shi had poured tea for Master Jin first. The emperor was perfectly fine adopting the persona of a junior student, and it amused him whenever his companions stuttered a bit as they caught themselves before they could call him “your majesty.” Everything still had the air of an adventure.
He sipped his tea. It wasn’t bad tea, if a little weak.
Beijing was a city in which to lose oneself. Bustling like a great beehive. (He had never seen a beehive, but he imagined they would be quite busy, what with all the bees.) Nobody ever looked at you twice. There was just too much happening for anyone to be the center of attention for too long. Unless, maybe, they were the emperor. And he was not the emperor.
Their little party had spent the previous day venturing about the city. Not in search of anything, just to observe. He couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer number of people around. And this was just the one city! There were many others, he knew, all down the coastline and further inland, cities of comparable size and antiquity (although none, he suspected, were truly as grand as the capital). Perhaps he would have to visit them someday.
For now, he felt like continuing to explore Beijing. And then maybe venturing into the nearby countryside. The city was not everything. He remembered, vaguely, that in his youth, his tutors had read to him from various texts whose authors, the great sages, had done things like go up mountains or sit by rivers and do the sorts of contemplative things that, the commentaries suggested, had a lot of double meanings. The only thing that really stuck with him was that there were people going up mountains or sitting by rivers. There were no real mountains or rivers in the imperial palace.
Well. Maybe he could climb a mountain. But for now, he was in the city. And there were a great many things to do and see in the city.
He finished his tea. He noticed that his companions had finished their tea as well. Boldly, the emperor stood, grasping the teapot. “Allow me,” he said brightly, and began to pour tea for them.
Shi’s eyes went wide. Master Jin reacted about a second later. The emperor smiled. By the protocols of court, an emperor pouring tea would be unthinkable! But he had given them specific instructions not to reveal his identity. Even though anyone who received such a high honor from the emperor ought, by long custom, to throw themselves upon the ground in an obsequious display of gratitude.
It was Master Jin who recovered his wits first. Reaching out with his hand, he subtly rapped the table with the knuckles of three fingers. Shi Chunjing quickly did the same.
Well done, the emperor thought, very pleased with his companions’ cleverness. He recognized the gesture as an approximation of the kowtow, the hands and head of a supplicant prostrated upon the ground. That was a deft bit of thinking. But then, everyone knew that Master Jin was an intelligent man.
He poured tea for his companions, and poured tea for himself, and sat back down. Today was going to be a good day.
Footnote
Unnumbered footnote. There is a legend about the Qianlong Emperor (who will not exist ITTL), how, when he traveled incognito, he played the same practical joke on his companions by insisting on pouring them tea -- and one of his companions, caught in a dilemma, invented the same ingenious solution. It is, of course, a legend, but I couldn't pass up using it here. Maybe this is simply another legend commonly told ITTL about the Tianqi Emperor. Maybe not.
Shi Chunjing had led them well. They had a place to stay for a little while. And the food wasn’t half bad.
The emperor’s gaze drifted to the other customers. They were preoccupied with their own issues and didn’t pay him much attention. Some men were playing pai jiu like it was their job, unsmiling and methodical. A handful of common folk exchanged tired stories about rain, the harvest, and the vagaries of the gods. An old man sat by the fire, telling the fortunes of some youths in exchange for a coin.
Against such a backdrop, nobody noticed the little table at the side of the room where the emperor (incognito), Shi Chunjing, and Master Jin were seated, drinking tea.
Shi stood to pour them more tea. “Thank you, older brother,” the emperor said politely. Shi had poured tea for Master Jin first. The emperor was perfectly fine adopting the persona of a junior student, and it amused him whenever his companions stuttered a bit as they caught themselves before they could call him “your majesty.” Everything still had the air of an adventure.
He sipped his tea. It wasn’t bad tea, if a little weak.
Beijing was a city in which to lose oneself. Bustling like a great beehive. (He had never seen a beehive, but he imagined they would be quite busy, what with all the bees.) Nobody ever looked at you twice. There was just too much happening for anyone to be the center of attention for too long. Unless, maybe, they were the emperor. And he was not the emperor.
Their little party had spent the previous day venturing about the city. Not in search of anything, just to observe. He couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer number of people around. And this was just the one city! There were many others, he knew, all down the coastline and further inland, cities of comparable size and antiquity (although none, he suspected, were truly as grand as the capital). Perhaps he would have to visit them someday.
For now, he felt like continuing to explore Beijing. And then maybe venturing into the nearby countryside. The city was not everything. He remembered, vaguely, that in his youth, his tutors had read to him from various texts whose authors, the great sages, had done things like go up mountains or sit by rivers and do the sorts of contemplative things that, the commentaries suggested, had a lot of double meanings. The only thing that really stuck with him was that there were people going up mountains or sitting by rivers. There were no real mountains or rivers in the imperial palace.
Well. Maybe he could climb a mountain. But for now, he was in the city. And there were a great many things to do and see in the city.
He finished his tea. He noticed that his companions had finished their tea as well. Boldly, the emperor stood, grasping the teapot. “Allow me,” he said brightly, and began to pour tea for them.
Shi’s eyes went wide. Master Jin reacted about a second later. The emperor smiled. By the protocols of court, an emperor pouring tea would be unthinkable! But he had given them specific instructions not to reveal his identity. Even though anyone who received such a high honor from the emperor ought, by long custom, to throw themselves upon the ground in an obsequious display of gratitude.
It was Master Jin who recovered his wits first. Reaching out with his hand, he subtly rapped the table with the knuckles of three fingers. Shi Chunjing quickly did the same.
Well done, the emperor thought, very pleased with his companions’ cleverness. He recognized the gesture as an approximation of the kowtow, the hands and head of a supplicant prostrated upon the ground. That was a deft bit of thinking. But then, everyone knew that Master Jin was an intelligent man.
He poured tea for his companions, and poured tea for himself, and sat back down. Today was going to be a good day.
Footnote
Unnumbered footnote. There is a legend about the Qianlong Emperor (who will not exist ITTL), how, when he traveled incognito, he played the same practical joke on his companions by insisting on pouring them tea -- and one of his companions, caught in a dilemma, invented the same ingenious solution. It is, of course, a legend, but I couldn't pass up using it here. Maybe this is simply another legend commonly told ITTL about the Tianqi Emperor. Maybe not.
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