Knowing the Warmth of Southern Tea (GL) - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“Reporting to you, my lord—Miss Nan Nuan has already left the capital and is heading toward the Jiangnan region.”

Dong Yi stood beside the young man in white, lowering her head as she spoke. Everything had unfolded exactly as he had predicted, yet she felt no sense of relief. This time, who had become whose chess piece?

The man in white did not respond. He merely gazed quietly at the chessboard before him, as though nothing in this world could disturb him. In his eyes, there was only victory or defeat in this single game—nothing else. If one could make another see only you, even for a fleeting moment, then abandoning all principles and offering everything would feel justified. One glance was enough. Just one.

“Is that so, Xiao Wei? Your younger sister is quite extraordinary,” the man in white said with a smile to the man dressed in black sitting opposite him.

The man in black was none other than the Crown Prince of the Great Rui Dynasty, heir to the realm, educated in the most orthodox principles of imperial rule and balance. In this world, perhaps the only person capable of making the Crown Prince play white—and admit defeat—was Nan Wei, the young lord famed across the land for an intellect as uncanny as a demon’s.

“My sister is still young. I fear she has made Your Highness a laughingstock,” Nan Wei replied, placing a black stone onto the board. His tone was polite, yet he did not once look at the Crown Prince, fully focused on the game. How much had this Crown Prince contributed to Nan Nuan’s solitary journey, he wondered?

“How could it be a laughingstock?” Xuanyuan Che laughed. “Such freedom of spirit suits a child of the jianghu.” He could tell Nan Wei had no desire to engage, yet he spoke anyway, knowing full well that urging Nan Nuan to travel alone had certainly displeased him.

“Your Highness flatters her,” Nan Wei replied.

In just a few exchanges, the game had already ended. White stones dominated the board; the outcome was clear. It was no surprise that the Crown Prince had lost so completely—no matter how skilled one was, one could not play with divided attention, especially when the Crown Prince was known for indulging in beauty.

“Xiao Wei’s chess grows ever stronger. I am truly ashamed of myself,” Xuanyuan Che said, returning the white stones to their container. With his heart not in the game, how could he possibly win?

“Your Highness gives me too much credit. It is merely that your mind was elsewhere,” Nan Wei said calmly, lifting his teacup for a light sip. He felt no joy in victory. To Nan Wei, anything worth doing demanded full focus—not fickleness. The Crown Prince, however, was his complete opposite: carefree, unpredictable, mercurial. Once, someone had presumed to guess the Crown Prince’s preferences; now, grass grew three feet high atop that person’s grave.

“Xiao Wei, you wrong me,” Xuanyuan Che said lightly. “My heart has always been with you. How could I spare any thought for the chessboard?”

Had the Crown Prince been serious, the outcome might not have been so certain. But he rarely took a game seriously. Still, playing against him was never dull—no one could ever predict his style.

“Your Highness should mind your conduct. If you have nothing else to do, perhaps you might copy Buddhist scriptures for His Majesty. That would be better than wasting time in my humble courtyard,” Nan Wei said, clearly exasperated by the Crown Prince’s frequent visits.

“How can this be called a waste?” Xuanyuan Che replied with a smile, lifting his teacup. “There is no place under heaven better than this. Excellent tea.”

Whether it was the Nan family courtyard or the person within it that attracted the Crown Prince was hard to say.

“Oh?” Nan Wei did not respond further. He merely lifted his gaze toward the sky. “A storm is coming. Your Highness should return early.”

Xuanyuan Che followed his gaze upward. “Indeed. In that case, Xiao Wei, I shall take my leave. Do take care of yourself.”

“If Your Highness fares well, then so shall this minister,” Nan Wei replied.

As for the reigning emperor, he was by no means ignorant of the open and covert struggles among his sons. They were all his children, all entitled to contend for the throne—but not through usurpation or the slaughter of one’s own kin.

When the Crown Prince left the Nan residence and boarded his carriage—

“My lord, this is the moment,” the driver said softly.

“I know,” he replied.

“Your Highness, Miss Dong Yi has sent word: all goes smoothly. Shall we respond?”

“Tell her the weather has been fickle of late. Have Chuanbei and loquat prepared for Young Lord Nan.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The Crown Prince understood Nan Wei’s concerns. Some things simply could not be discarded at will. Yet if one lived an entire life bound only by responsibility—was that not unbearably bleak?

Some believed that life was too short not to live freely. Others believed they were born with a mission and must not lose themselves in fleeting joy. Thus, some people became who they were—and others became who they were. Irreplaceable. Impossible to replicate.

Nan Wei instructed Dong Yi to put away the chess pieces. Sitting alone in the pavilion, he brewed tea, inhaled its fragrance, and poured a cup for the empty seat across from him.

“One cup of rinsing water,” he murmured. “Is it worthy of good tea?”

No one answered. After all, like drinking water, only the drinker knows whether it is cold or warm.

Later, on his way back to the palace, the Crown Prince was ambushed and severely wounded, falling into a coma. The emperor was furious and ordered the execution of Nan Huo, the Prefect of the Capital.

Thus began a fierce and tumultuous struggle for the throne.

In truth, all of this had been within Nan Wei’s expectations. Some things cannot be obtained simply by desire. And perhaps, possession is not always the best ending.

If it had only been a matter of inadequate protection, the Prefect would not have been executed so swiftly. But investigations uncovered multiple crimes—corruption and bribery among them—and the combined charges sealed his fate.

Nan Nuan, too, played a part in this. Nan Huo was her second cousin once removed—and the very man who had long “supported” her wandering the jianghu, even gifting her countless travel journals and regional curiosities.

Before leaving, Nan Nuan had handed over his accounting ledgers of corruption as a token of gratitude.

Truly, it was only gratitude. No resentment whatsoever. Please believe that.

By the time Nan Nuan arrived in Ji City, she had yet to learn of her second uncle’s execution—though she suspected he would not live much longer.

Second Uncle, thank you for your tireless efforts over the years to find men for me. Such devotion, indeed.

Not all the schemes Nan Nuan encountered came from him—but he had certainly had a hand in them.

She headed toward Ji City’s largest inn, ready to begin her “life of rough travel.”

“Honored guest, are you here for a meal or lodging?” the waiter asked cheerfully, taking her horse.

“Lodging,” Nan Nuan replied. “Tell me—do you have a certain kind of tea?”

She walked straight in and seated herself by the window.

“We carry many kinds of tea. What might you be looking for?” the waiter asked attentively. Those who loved tea were rarely difficult customers—and someone who asked after tea might well be a distinguished guest.

“Do you have Nan tea?” Nan Nuan asked, pleased by the waiter’s respectful enthusiasm.

“Of course, sir. Please wait a moment,” the waiter replied, uncertain whether this was a casual question or a deliberate test.

“Wait,” Nan Nuan added. “I want it brewed with warm water.”

“Sir… how does one brew tea with warm water?” the waiter said bitterly. “Aren’t you making things difficult for me?”

“Then forget it,” Nan Nuan said lightly, waving him away.

Northern shadows are clear and cold;
Only southern tea is warm.

Why use this verse? Sometimes, Nan Nuan found herself unsure of the Crown Prince’s tastes.