Chapter 15: Han Xin Reviews the Troops

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Uncle Yong brewed the tea, tapping the teapot twice in the air—a gesture reminiscent of Han Xin’s troop formations. Then he poured a cup of tea. I glanced sideways and noticed the cup was filled to the brim, not just three-quarters full.

Strange!

Tea should never be filled to the top, while wine should never be poured too shallowly.

It’s common knowledge: tea should not be poured too slowly, and wine not too shallowly.

Moreover, there were three people at the table, yet only one cup of tea was visible.

Was this some kind of interrogation using the Thousand Gates’ secret signals?

The Thousand Gates have eight generals, and the ritual begins with eight cups of tea.

Besides, when the Thousand Gates probe someone’s depths, even if tea is offered, it’s only filled to three-quarters as a sign of “I’m just inquiring; you may speak what you can, and keep what you cannot—leaving a way out.”

Seeing my slight frown, Uncle Yong smiled and said, “Please, have some tea.”

I felt a twinge of anxiety and hesitated to reach out.

In the secret underworld of the martial world, tea rituals appear refined but are the deadliest.

The tea ritual originated from tea competitions, started in the Tang Dynasty, flourished in the Song Dynasty, then declined, only to be revived during the Qing Dynasty. At that time, the Hongmen society—the Heaven and Earth Society—was the first to employ the tea ritual, as an organization dedicated to overthrowing the Qing and restoring the Ming Dynasty. From there, it spread among the martial world.

The lower ranks of the underworld are divided into various classes, from petty hustlers to skilled operatives, merely scraping a living through tricks and transactions. But organizations like the Heaven and Earth Society and Hongmen bear the banner of anti-Qing restoration, dealing in life-or-death affairs—thus their danger level is entirely different.

If I failed to understand the Thousand Gates’ Spring Ceremony tea code, I would merely arouse suspicion and unnecessary trouble.

But misreading the Hongmen tea ritual could cost me my life because their business often means extermination of entire clans, demanding utmost caution.

Hence the saying in the martial world: “Drink a pot of wine, but never mention a cup of tea.”

The atmosphere froze instantly.

Xiaowen rested her chin on her hand, looking at the two of us with mild interest.

Uncle Yong smiled, while I was caught between laughter and tears.

Two minutes later.

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“The fresh tea and aged wine cups overflow when full; Uncle Yong, you’re clearly trying to send me away,” I said, standing up.

Uncle Yong’s smile vanished; he stared at me intently and said, “Please, have tea.”

Since I first saw this old man, he had always worn a smiling face. Now, his expression suddenly turned cold. In that instant, the temperature around us seemed to drop several degrees—even Xiaowen noticed Uncle Yong’s unusual demeanour.

She frowned and said to me, “If he wants you to drink, then drink. What, do you think he’d poison you?”

Faced with this, I steeled myself and extended my right hand. Four fingers fully covered the cup’s rim as I lifted it, my left hand supporting the base. Then, with thumb, index, and middle fingers pinching the side, exposing a quarter of the cup, the ring finger bent against my left palm. Holding the cup steadily, I drank it all in one go.

Then I pushed the cup forward on the tea tray with my right hand and looked at Uncle Yong, saying, “You’re a guest from Mount Penglai, but what has caused your worldly concerns?”

Holding the cup with three fingers is a sign of respect from a junior to a senior.

Uncle Yong’s hand gesture formed the character for “mountain,” a salute of the Thousand Gates, who revere Mount Penglai. I was questioning him: if he truly belonged to the Thousand Gates, why use such a probing tea ritual?

Implied was my counter-probe: it wasn’t that I couldn’t understand this full-cup formation, but that his conduct was unorthodox by martial world standards.

Uncle Yong’s expression softened somewhat. He then picked up two more cups, filling three cups with water once again, but this time only to three-quarters full.

The three cups were arranged in the shape of the character “品” (pin).

Uncle Yong put down the cups and said, “The Three Immortals originally hail from the Ming family; heroes roam freely everywhere. The old days of the Peach Garden Oath—cows black and white sacrificed to Heaven and Earth.”

Seeing this tea formation, I breathed a sigh of relief.

It was a Peach Garden “pin” formation.

Corresponding to the Oath of the Peach Garden sworn by Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei.

I reached out, pushed the two lower cups upwards, aligning the three cups in a straight, parallel line, and said: “My lord is in the center, two dragons lie on either side. Two squads of civil and military generals protect the lord’s rule.”

Uncle Yong laughed heartily, “Young man, please have tea.”

I raised a cup, Xiaowen did the same, and only then did Uncle Yong lift his cup and take a sip. Then he said, “Xiaowen, you may leave. I have a few words to speak with this young fellow.”

A flicker of surprise passed across Xiaowen’s face—three parts directed at Uncle Yong, seven parts at me.

Still, she stood up and took her leave.

Only Uncle Yong and I remained in the room.

At this moment, I was even more nervous than when facing the crowd led by Dahua.

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The more nervous I felt, the more I forced myself to remain calm.

I nearly squeezed the blood from my palms.

I knew this was an opportunity—my second benefactor after Senior Liu Qingshan! I would never allow this chance to slip away!

Uncle Yong looked at me with a kindly smile and said, “A Cheng, you tried, intentionally or not, to greet me, and used Jiang Xiang Sect techniques to approach me. Now that I’ve given you the chance to sit before me, tell me your origin—your true origin. Who are you, that you know the Jiang Xiang Sect heart methods, recognize the Rong Sect’s marks, can decode the Thousand Gates’ tea formation, and even perform the Shen Diao Sect’s pressure techniques?”

“I don’t belong to any sect,” I hurriedly explained.

Seeing my nervousness, Uncle Yong poured another cup of tea and pushed it toward me: “No rush. Take your time to think before you speak.”

Facing this seasoned veteran, I dared not lie. At this moment, I felt as if I stood naked before him. When he became serious, Uncle Yong’s aura was overwhelming!

I recounted how I met Senior Liu Qingshan on the train, how he helped me, and gave me the book.

No embellishments—every word from the heart.

Uncle Yong seemed satisfied with my account. He silently lit his first cigarette and said, “I see, A Cheng. One more question: what do you want from me? Or how do you want me to help you?”

Before I could answer, he cautioned, “Think carefully. What you say now will shape your path for at least the next three years. I don’t boast, but in this small patch of land, I have some face. Don’t think I’m telling you all this because I admire your courage or fighting spirit. Frankly, many who loiter or fight desperately at my doorstep number at least eighty out of a hundred. I know what they think: coming alone to the big city with no family, lofty ambitions but a fragile life, with nothing to offer but their worthless existence, hoping to show me their mettle so I might take them under my wing.”

I quickly explained, “I did try to prove myself before you, but today’s fight was really an accident. I didn’t expect you to invite me to eat. It’s like planting flowers with no care and getting no bloom, but accidentally sowing willows that shade the path.”

Uncle Yong stubbed out his cigarette. “Let me be frank. Today, it’s not your fighting spirit or your knowledge of underworld secret codes that moved me, but your Shen Diao Sect pressure technique—it reminded me of an old friend. All right, one last question: if I help you, what benefits can you bring me?”

“I have nothing to offer but this: a soldier dies for his confidant,” I said passionately.

“Your life is your capital. I don’t care for that,” Uncle Yong responded.

I stood and looked at Uncle Yong.

He looked back at me.

Then I knelt down.