Chapter 42: Brewing a Pot of Fragrant Tea to the Fullest, Preparing a Journey Toward the Green Mountains

"Divorcing the Wife? Could it be that these stories were told to the original owner by her mother?"

"You've risen early today, Husband."

It was just a casual remark from his wife, yet it made Guan Yin feel somewhat like a caught thief. He hurriedly stuffed the entire roll of rice paper back into its original spot, turned around, and looked toward the source of the voice. "Nothing much. I just thought of organizing things, and incidentally pondering what to write next."

Another classic case of protesting too much, especially since no one had even questioned what Guan Yin was doing just moments before.

Finally finishing tidying up the last sheet, Guan Yin sat down, his mind lingering on this "Divorcing the Wife," while his eyes remained fixed on the blank, untainted sheet of new paper before him.

Was it because he had recalled the promise between his parents? Guan Yin always seemed to find it difficult to connect with matters of such emotional weight.

Yet Guan Yin had forgotten that there is a phrase known as "words coming true as prophesied"—the vows made during the writing of "Divorcing the Wife" were precisely suited to become those lifelong, unfulfilled regrets!

In the distance, the green mountains embraced each other's shadows; nearby, the sounds of chickens and dogs echoed among the households. Guan Yin suddenly began to calculate in his heart: if such a return to simplicity and nature were placed in modern society, how many people would be willing to spend a fortune to experience it? And what sort of name would be assigned to it?

"Journey Solely to the Green Mountains"?

"The Green Mountains Behold Me"?

Or perhaps those already thoroughly worn-out terms like "Zen Practice" or "Daoist Retreat"?

Before Guan Yin could reach any solid conclusion, his train of thought was interrupted by Liu Jiao'an speaking abruptly.

"Since Husband mentioned Mount Huang and Mount Baiyue previously, Jiao'an happens to want to visit the temples on the mountain to pray for peace and safety. How about in a few days, once Husband has nearly finished what you are writing, we make the trip together?"

Whether by carriage or donkey cart, a party of three required suitable transportation. Seeing that the perilous fifth month of the lunar calendar was not far off, medicines to repel insects and snakes ought to be prepared for both the road and the mountains.

Added to that were clothes, rain gear, and sufficient provisions... Not to mention the time needed just to pack these items, getting everything fully prepared would undoubtedly require Liu Jiao'an to work day and night, rushing to embroider pieces she could take to the market to sell.

"The expenses for this trip will likely be considerable. Perhaps we should forget it."

Having spoken the words, Guan Yin could not help feeling a sense of guilt. The money wasn't earned by him, yet when it came to spending it, he was the one making all the decisions. "I'm merely concerned that my wife will be overworked. However, everything shall be entirely as my wife arranges."

"Very well," Liu Jiao'an replied, smoothing her hair bun before turning to go out into the courtyard to find Sanheng.

Shortly thereafter, the sound of Sanheng seeing Liu Jiao'an off as she left the small courtyard drifted in. Left alone beneath the window, Guan Yin sat blankly staring at the desk.

It was only when all the surrounding sounds quieted down that Guan Yin suddenly jolted upright as if struck by lightning, beginning to ponder the story he had just read, which felt somewhat familiar.

"A woman mistaken for a courtesan from a pleasure house, accused of being a demonic creature who caused the death of the master of the household due to her versatile allure?"

"A loyal servant incapable of defending himself, framed as an accomplice seeking to usurp the family estate?"

"A dashing young scholar, accused of illicit relations with the woman and conspiring to seize the wealthy merchant's family fortune?"

That was it. This woman seemed to have appeared beside that frontier-defending female general. When Guan Yin reluctantly connected the pieces of the story, the sequence of the dozens of sheets of paper finally began to make sense.

First came the young scholar bidding farewell to his parents to travel to the capital for the imperial examinations, followed by his demotion and return to his hometown due to various reasons. Yet he never forgot the fellow villagers who had perished in the floods, and specifically held a grand requiem mass for them at Mount Baiyue, spending every last coin he had.

Next came a tale of gods and ghosts, the familiar theme of repaying a debt of gratitude.

The woman mistaken for a courtesan from the pleasure house was actually the manifestation of the cloud mists of Mount Huang; the loyal servant was the solid boulder at the base of the green pine; and the dashing young scholar was naturally that very green pine—thus, much later, the cloud mists returned to repay the kindness by pointing out a path of survival for the female general on the battlefield.

"So, it was this young scholar who offended the local gentry over this case, leading to the ultimate tragedy?"

"Which means right now, this woman ought to be achieving great feats and bringing glory to her family lineage?"

Having sorted out the chronology, Guan Yin finally understood why the continuation he had written received no appreciation.

When a story that had dragged on for a long time, spanning three generations, was finally about to welcome a happy ending, a sudden "snow in June" appeared. Was this justice supposed to be judged by the so-called netherworld tribunals?

Realizing that he had unconsciously committed the blunder of adding an unwanted and clumsy appendage to a fine work, Guan Yin helplessly stared at the four-square courtyard before him—while he had read plenty of web novels, he knew little of traditional dramas, and had no earthly idea how to patch up the ensuing reunion.

Was it a tug-of-war between an imperial prince and the female general?

Was a down-and-out beggar whom the female general had helped during her own days of hardship actually the crown prince living in exile among the common folk?

Or perhaps, much like many contemporary novels that deliberately avoided malicious rivalry among women and pursued the so-called "women supporting women" trope, he should swap the imperial prince for a princess, and the crown prince for an eldest princess?

Guan Yin knew that attempting to pull down an entire interest group by one's own strength was exceedingly difficult, unless the emperor himself harbored the intention to effect change.

Yet Guan Yin had forgotten one thing: for a woman of turbulent and humble origins to rise and become a female general at the frontier was already something whose probability bordered on zero.

Before he could set brush to paper, the rich fragrance of tea drifted to his senses. Sanheng walked in carrying a freshly brewed cup of tea—there were very few leaves, and the tea itself was certainly not of the quality meant for sale.

"Husband, Madam asked Sanheng to remind Husband to rest more." Placing the tea on the desk, Sanheng showed no immediate intention of leaving; instead, she lowered her gaze and stood before her master. "Madam's meaning is that even if it is hard work, when Husband writes articles, you should still go out more and take in the sights."

Guan Yin had already agreed to it earlier, so there was clearly no need for further explanation. Sanheng had deliberately brewed tea to offer this clarification—seven parts of it to ensure Madam's good intentions were understood by her master, and three parts to ease the tense relationship between herself and her master.

Sanheng knew her master was extremely kind to her, but the two successive incidents of recent days had indeed chilled her heart.

"Very well." Guan Yin was no fool; he did not pierce through Sanheng's thoughts, but simply picked up the teacup, took a sip, and set it down again. "Sanheng, you should rest more as well, and not wear yourself out."

In truth, Guan Yin was not particularly particular about drinking tea normally, but the tea before him was indeed difficult to enjoy—the leaves harvested right around the Qingming festival, the most ideal time for picking, were reserved mostly for tasting quality.

As for the coarse, large leaves before him now, those were all that the original owner and Liu Jiao'an could afford to drink.

Fine tea needed to be taken out and sold. Glancing sideways at the water in the cup that even contained tea stems, Guan Yin let out a slow sigh...

Fine cloud mists, fine green pines, wondrous rocks. Lifting his gaze, red blossoms and the red sun reflected each other; green mountains and a blue sky greeted the newly cleared weather. The primordial chaos parted to reveal a pristine universe, and the white walls and dark tiles stood out distinctly. It felt very much like the sentiment of "I see the green mountains as deeply charming."