A Cup of Tea Between Old Friends

"This is a, ahem, nice little house, I suppose you wanted a rustic aesthetic." Song Weiming waved his hand vaguely at the pines outside, tea in hand. He glanced about critically at the minimalist furniture, unimpressed, and sipped his tea.

"It must be terribly inconvenient, eh, Mao Jin? Not that a monk like you would mind, that is. You don't often receive visitors, clearly." With a chuckle, Song Weiming glanced at his old classmate.

Mao Jin looked coldly back at him. "I do not. I prefer it that way," he said pointedly, picking up his teacup with an expression that bordered on murderous.

Song Weiming did not get the hint, as he didn't bother to listen. He had been cross and uncomfortable from the bumpy carriage ride on the country road, and his good nature was somewhat restored by the cool pavilion and tea. After that unfortunate incident months ago he had taken to drinking, as a safer hobby than chasing after women. His father, alarmed at constantly seeing his younger son lying around the house drunk, had packed him off in a temper to see a famous physician who ran an exclusive hot spring retreat, and hopefully cure him of his alcoholism.

"So what would a party animal like you be doing in a deserted place like this?" Mao Jin said, folding his sleeves with great care.

With a sigh, Song Weiming shook his head. "My health has suffered greatly, my friend. I'm not the same brilliant flower of society that you knew me years ago. My honourable father was so alarmed that he sent me to see the Divine Physician, Yuan ZiLei, and hopefully recover my health under his care. The things I've gone through, Mao Jin!"

Studying him unsympathetically, Mao Jin remarked, "Your complexion is indeed dull and sallow, and your hand's not the steadiest. It's drink, isn't it?"

Song Gongzi choked a little on his tea. "Don't make assumptions," he said loftily as soon as he could. "You don't know what a traumatic experience I had."

Mao Jin raised an eyebrow, unmoved. He genteelly poured more tea.

"You were wise, my friend, to be wary of women back then." Song Weiming said darkly. "I know we all called you stupid, and dull, and told you to go back to your monastery--"

Mao Jin's facial muscles twitched ever so slightly. "I remember," he said dryly.

"--but ah, we were young and rash then! As for me, I simply couldn't turn the pretty creatures down. They just came flocking to me like butterflies. Who would have the heart to say no to such delightful little things?" He stroked his moustache with a smile. "Not that you would understand, of course, but that's how it was for me."

If Mao Jin could have rolled his eyes he would have. It looked like Song Weiming hadn't changed much, despite his bad complexion. He never had been able to resist boasting about how irresistable he was to women.

"But this summer, Mao Jin, I saw the loveliest woman in my experience, and you know I've had quite a bit. Ravishing, really. Her skin, her figure, as smooth and shapely as a piece of precious jade; her eyebrows, like they were drawn with the finest rabbit hair brush; her blushing lips--"

Mao Jin put down his cup. "Unless you're writing erotic literature, my friend, you don't have to describe every part of this mystery woman's body."

"And to make her even more intriguing, she was a true diamond in the rough--wearing homespun cloth, going to the market, and planting vegetables! A vulgar village physician's wife, a nobody. Any common blockhead, he couldn't even stand up to my men." His lip curled at the memory.

"So you've started going after married women now. Teacher would have a lot to say ."

"I know, he'd make me copy those stupid analects again. But this was different, Mao Jin, I swear. She put a spell on me. That's what I see now. She appeared in my room one night--"

Mao Jin coughed. He had never liked sensational stories or gossip. Misunderstanding his friend's response, Song Weiming glanced about and saw Wanwan waiting meekly with bowed head near the door, in case they needed her, while his attendants stood by with impassive faces.

Irritably he motioned them away. "There, step outside. What do slaves like you have to do eavesdropping on gentlemen's talk? Get out. Shoo."

Turning to Mao Jin, he continued, obviously enjoying himself. "Now we can talk freely! Somehow or other she got in, without anyone noticing. I was a fool, I should have thought that suspicious, but no, she had me properly spellbound! And then---"

He was stopped by Mao Jin's hand. "You know I find no pleasure listening to your exploits. I find them damaging to my intellect. Perhaps you should finish your tea and be on your way, my friend. I believe you are in urgent need of the Divine Physician's help."

Song Weiming snorted. He was remembering why he had never gotten on very well with Mao Jin in the past. "Don't be so boring, will you. I haven't even reached the most exciting part yet! Listen, Mao Jin, this is truly a story you'll never hear elsewhere."

"Thank heaven for that. The gods are merciful." Mao Jin said under his breath.

Leaning across the table, Song Weiming impatiently pushed the tea tray away, and snatched the little bamboo ladle that Mao Jin was using to delicately pour hot water over the tea leaves.

Lowering his voice dramatically, he hissed, "She was a demon. Or a fairy. I'm inclined towards demon, however, remembering how she tried to kill me."

Mao Jin looked skeptically at him. "She tried to kill you?"

Song Weiming leaned back triumphantly. "Yes. You should have seen how terrifying she looked, with her gleaming eyes and teeth. A demoness, most likely. No mortal woman could have had so much strength. She held me kicking in the air, as if I weighed nothing!"

Eyeing his friend's slight figure thoughtfully, Mao Jin replied, "Was a demoness really necessary? I think an average fishwife would have managed it quite easily."

Folding his arms, Song Weiming glared at him. "Watch your mouth, now. Are you even listening to me?"

Mao Jin sighed. "I wish I didn't have to, but yes."