Chapter Five: Teapot, Teacup, Tea Duel

Before his words had faded, a dark shadow suddenly flashed before Han Tanyi’s eyes, moving with such astonishing speed that it exceeded his imagination. The gust of wind pressed against him, forcing his body to fall back, and he found himself standing atop the stern of the boat. Looking up, he saw the figure already heading toward the massive boulder—a mane of silver-white hair streaming behind him in the wind, his loose robe billowing, the very image of an immortal sage.

Still three or four meters from the boulder, the man raised his arm, spiritual power gathering at his sleeve, and with a mighty swing, the surrounding waters seemed to be pulled by an unseen force, swirling violently. A towering column of water erupted, shooting straight at the face of the stone.

The impact was thunderous, like crashing waves in a raging storm. The giant boulder, several meters across, shattered into countless fragments beneath the water’s assault, tumbling into the rushing current and soon vanishing from sight. Almost simultaneously, the massive boat slid past where the boulder had stood, dropping heavily onto the river below. The difference in height sent up a spray of water, and the force of the landing soaked the deck in an instant.

“That was close!” This was the unspoken thought on every boatman’s mind. Years of navigating these rivers had taught them to expect calamity, and though the danger had passed, the memory of that moment left their hearts pounding. The brush with death brought a heady sense of relief, and some could not help but cheer.

Yet Han Tanyi felt none of this exhilaration. He hadn’t brushed the edge of death, after all. His gaze was fixed on the mysterious old man, curiosity and suspicion filling his eyes.

This was no ordinary person; no common man could possess such skill. To descend a sheer cliff of dozens of meters with such speed, and then land upright atop the water—such lightness of body was beyond Han Tanyi’s wildest dreams, greater even than the self he had conjured in dreams. And then, with a simple motion, this man had shattered a boulder many meters wide. Even calling him a legend would hardly do him justice.

Of course, Han Tanyi kept these thoughts to himself. Even if he brimmed with admiration, it was not his way to heap praise on a stranger.

So his gaze lingered only a moment. Once the boat regained its balance, he leapt back into the cabin. Chou Wan’er was there, watching him anxiously. She said nothing, but the concern in her eyes was unmistakable.

In such a moment, anyone would feel a warmth in their heart. Han Tanyi gave her a small smile, signaling that he was unharmed. Inwardly, he mused: “In the end, my junior sister is the best. From childhood, her stubbornness never changed, but it’s always just little quarrels. For this kind of genuine concern, it’s all worth it. Not like Butterfly, who always looks so cold and distant, as if the world owes her something!”

There was a trace of complaint in his thoughts, but what could he do? Love was a strange thing, unbound by time. Just one glance, and he was hopelessly ensnared. With Chou Wan’er, he always felt something was missing; between them, there was only the closeness of kin.

“Young man, you’re not bad, but your martial skills are lacking. What a pity, what a pity!” The sudden voice needed no introduction. The words themselves, though, were less than pleasing. Hearing them, Han Tanyi frowned slightly but did not bother to reply.

Instead, Chou Wan’er could not hold back. Though she had witnessed the earlier events, sitting inside the cabin, she hadn’t felt the full impact as Han Tanyi had. Still, she recognized the old man’s prowess. Yet hearing such words directed at her elder brother made her unhappy. She stood abruptly, ready to argue, but catching Han Tanyi’s subtle shake of the head, she understood his meaning and, though reluctant, forced herself to swallow her retort.

The old man slowly approached, and Han Tanyi saw his face clearly for the first time. He was indeed elderly, perhaps past sixty. Deep wrinkles marked his face, confirming his age. His robe was plain gray, with no ornament save for delicate red flowers embroidered on the sleeves—beautiful, though their nature was unknown. A faint smile played on the old man’s lips, as if he had no idea his words had offended.

As for Han Tanyi, though he had restrained Chou Wan’er, he could not banish a sense of indignation. Trying to keep his voice calm, though a hint of challenge crept in, he said, “What do you mean by ‘pity’? I beg your guidance, Senior.”

The old man did not immediately respond, continuing his slow approach. The cabin was small, and the wooden table had shifted slightly during the earlier chaos. There was space left by the front bench—an inviting spot. Without asking permission, the old man sat down and, without hesitation, reached for the teapot, clearly intent on pouring himself some tea.

His plan, however, was doomed. If Han Tanyi’s restraint had kept Chou Wan’er in check before, now she could contain herself no longer. With lightning speed, she snatched the teapot away.

The old man blinked, surprised by her reaction. Chou Wan’er, on the other hand, looked quite pleased, as if to say, “You’re not getting any tea from me!” She even winked in mischief and, in a teasing tone, declared, “You want tea? That’s easy. Just now you said my brother’s martial skills were lacking and a pity. I want you to explain that clearly, or else…”

“Or else I won’t get any tea, is that it? Little girl, you underestimate this old man. Hold on to it and keep your eyes open. Watch how the tea in your hand ends up in my cup!” The old man’s voice was filled not with anger but with confidence, as if the feat would be effortless.

He picked up a teacup and set it before him, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. Chou Wan’er barely suppressed a laugh, thinking, “I’m holding the teapot myself. I’d like to see what tricks this old man has to get the tea from my hand to his cup.”

Han Tanyi thought the scene was a little much. In the world of wanderers, a little courtesy went a long way, and there was no need for such posturing. Still, he did not interfere. The old man’s skill was the greatest Han Tanyi had ever seen; even if he and his sister joined forces, they would be no match. If the old man meant them harm, he could have acted already. Since he hadn’t, there was nothing to fear. In fact, Han Tanyi was curious to see just how the old man would work his magic.

“You said it yourself,” Chou Wan’er insisted, “so don’t claim I bullied an old man if you fail. I’m holding the teapot like this—let’s see what you can do. If you can’t deliver, it’ll be a real blow to your reputation!” Stubborn as ever, she was not one to back down easily. She had full confidence in herself, certain that the old man could not possibly succeed.

The old man’s expression did not change. His gaze fixed thoughtfully on the teapot. “You remind me of myself when I was young,” he mused. “If you didn’t already have a master, I’d take you as my disciple. Now, watch carefully and witness the old man’s skills. Otherwise, you’d truly underestimate me!”

Chou Wan’er had planned a few more retorts, but at the mention of “skills,” her demeanor grew grave. She stared intently at the teapot, not daring to blink. Though she had been confident, the old man’s calmness seemed to surpass her own. She was young, after all, and now she couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy, as if something unexpected were about to happen.

Beyond the Three Rapids Gorge, the river became the Xiang, its current broad and gentle. With little need for the boatmen’s labor, many found time to idle. Soon, aside from Han Tanyi, several others crowded into the cabin, drawn by the spectacle that had just unfolded. It was the perfect opportunity to enjoy some drama, and the seasoned rivermen would never let it pass. Some, eager for fun, even began to lay bets.