Chapter Ninety-Five: Four Seasons Wine

All right, the drunken man quickly composed himself again. Especially when that fragrance of wine reached him, he suddenly felt that his earlier behavior had perhaps been a little too excessive. The wine was indeed excellent—only it lacked some of the rough, unrestrained boldness of the northern frontier, while carrying more of the grandeur of the Central Plains and the southern lands. Truth be told, he had often drunk this sort of wine before and rather liked it. Later, though, he came to feel it was a little too thin, that no matter how he drank it he never quite became drunk, and that was not what he wanted. To have traveled all this way to the distant northern frontier, perhaps he had been led here by this very wine. Thirteenth Madam seemed not to have noticed the drunken man’s earlier actions; all her attention had been on the act of pouring the wine. Something kept hidden in one’s own private chambers was naturally precious and not easily shared with others. In that sense, it was the drunken man who had received no small favor.

The wine was clear and pure to the utmost degree, looking no different from water, perhaps even more limpid. After pouring two cups, Thirteenth Madam slowly handed one over and continued, “This wine was given to me ten years ago when I went to the Central Plains by a friend. I heard it even had another name—something like Fragrance of the Four Seasons. We people of the northern frontier are not used to this light wine, so I kept it instead. I never expected that once set aside, it would remain there for ten years. If I hadn’t met you today, seeing you drink from such a small cup, and with a face that doesn’t look like one of our northern people’s, I would have guessed you came from the Central Plains. That makes you, after all, an old acquaintance of this wine. So I invited you to taste it. Fine things are wasted if they do not meet the right person.”

“Thirteenth Madam truly has a remarkable eye and discernment. This madman does, in fact, come from the Central Plains. As for my habit of drinking, it has gone unchanged for years and years. Though I stand here in the northern frontier, I lack somewhat the bold spirit a northerner ought to have. For that, I am ashamed. As for the wines of the Central Plains, I hardly deserve the word taste. I’m afraid I shall disappoint you, Thirteenth Madam.”

The other party’s words were quite reasonable. The drunken man’s gaze remained fixed on the cup of wine. From its color alone, it was unquestionably a fine vintage. For a lover of wine to keep his manner in check before such a drink was no easy matter. Besides, he had not tasted anything this light in a very long time. Seeing it again naturally made it all the more tempting.

“People of the northern frontier value frankness; there’s no need for you to be so polite. Let us taste the wine first,” Thirteenth Madam said, lifting her cup and gesturing for him to drink.

Since she had said as much, there was nothing more to be particular about. Though the drunken man had not drunk such light wine for a long time, his memory had not faded in the least. Perhaps that was the most vexing thing about him. He took a small sip. The flavor was indeed very different from the strong liquor of the northern frontier. Perhaps because he was accustomed to strong drink, he could not taste anything like liquor at first; instead, he only felt a faint fragrance drifting over him. His brow furrowed slightly, and he half-closed his eyes, as though carefully searching through the sensation.

“The wine is thin and almost flavorless. It does not drink like wine, but like chewing flower petals. The fragrance is intense, lingering between the teeth and lips without dispersing. It feels like spring, when the buds are opening in full and the branches have just begun to sprout new leaves. Though there is little that is visible, it is full of life.”

“Wonderful, wonderful!” Thirteenth Madam had also swallowed a small sip. Perhaps she had not intended to, but hearing the drunken man describe it thus, she could not help tasting it more carefully. Indeed, beneath the bleakness that follows winter’s passing, one could faintly sense the bearing of spring. Moved by that concord of feeling, she cried out twice in praise. “It seems today my eyes were not mistaken, Thirteenth Madam has indeed found the right person. Before the word ‘madman,’ there truly ought to be the word ‘wine.’ Try it again and see whether you can detect another flavor.”

He guessed she must have had some deeper meaning in saying this, and the drunken man did not refuse. Following the momentum, he took another long swallow. Perhaps the first taste had seemed too light and lacking, so this time he drank nearly half a cup.

Of course, for this wine there was nothing improper in that. Yet before he had even finished swallowing, he felt the flavor of the wine grow much stronger, even somewhat sharp. As it slid down his throat into his belly, it brought a fierce burning sensation that rose from his stomach and became almost intolerable with its heat. The night air had originally carried a chill, but by this moment that coldness was gone entirely. Even on his brow, faint beads of sweat had begun to appear. It was fiercer than the strong liquor of the northern frontier by several degrees.

At this, the drunken man’s eyes flew wide open. He first looked at the wine, then quickly at Thirteenth Madam.

“This wine?”

“The cup has been in your hand the whole time, and you’ve been watching me all along. I, Thirteenth Madam, have done nothing underhanded. Do you feel it is very different from the taste before, as though your whole body were suddenly set in the blazing heat of midsummer, or being roasted by a furnace, impossible to endure?” Thirteenth Madam said with a faint smile. The wine in her own cup was still the same amount as before. Clearly, after the drunken man had drained such a large mouthful, she herself had not drunk any. Instead, she slowly set the cup on the table.

“This wine is called Seasonal Wine. Since you just tasted the breath of spring, then naturally it is now summer’s turn. Summer is sultry, damp, and oppressive, the season I dislike most. So though this wine is excellent, I cannot drink it. The reason likely lies in this second sip. Otherwise I would not have stored it for so many years—unable to bear drinking it, yet unable to bear throwing it away. If you truly find it unbearable, why not take another sip and see?”

If anyone else had heard such talk, they might have hesitated. But the drunken man had no such scruples. In any case, he had already drunk more than half the cup. If she truly meant him harm, he would not be able to guard against it now. Better to finish it in one clean, decisive stroke and be done with it. Besides, for a man already half drunk, matters of life and death were perhaps not as important as one might imagine.

Still, even with that boldness, the sensations coursing through his body were not pleasant. So for the third sip, he only took a very small one. As soon as the wine entered his throat, he felt its flavor become exceedingly rich. Compared with the first two times, it was yet another different sensation. The burning heat slowly gathered itself in and withdrew, but a remnant of warmth still lingered, so that one could faintly continue to feel the scorch—though it was not uncomfortable, more like a rising tide of warmth. Even in his belly, there was a subtle sense of fullness, as if he had eaten a great deal, bringing with it a feeling of harvest and satisfaction. Perhaps this was the feeling brought by autumn. Autumn ripens, after all, and is by nature a season of reaping.

“Astonishing, astonishing! Within this single jug there is actually such profound and wondrous transformation. It truly is a peerless vintage. I, this madman, have broadened my horizons today!” The praise was exceedingly high. The drunken man went on speaking to himself without even waiting for Thirteenth Madam’s reply. Then he tipped up his head and poured the last of the wine into his mouth.

Just as he had imagined, in an instant the last trace of murky haze vanished. In its place came a sensation of cold so profound that it felt as if he had been cast into a world of ice and snow. He was already feeling terrible, and at precisely this moment Thirteenth Madam’s sleeve moved in a gentle sweep. It was only the faintest stir of fabric, yet to the drunken man it felt like a blade of winter wind. The chill bit to the bone, and his body could not help shuddering slightly. His face turned pale, and at the limit of the sensation, his teeth even began to chatter, as though trying to drive the cold from his body in that way.

“Come, drink a cup of hot water and warm yourself.”

Seeing his reaction, Thirteenth Madam poured hot water into the empty cup and handed it over. This time the drunken man naturally did not hesitate. The cold was far more unpleasant than the earlier heat, even more painful by comparison. After downing the cup of hot water, the chill still could not be completely dispersed, but it was clearly much better. Gradually, the trembling in his body ceased, and color returned to his face. What had seemed rather exhausted before was now full of flush and vitality. Clearly, after all that, the circulation of blood within him had become much smoother than at the beginning.

“If I had not seen it with my own eyes today, I never would have known that the Central Plains could have such marvelous wine. The name Seasonal Wine is most apt indeed—spring gives birth, summer flourishes, autumn gathers, winter perishes. Nothing could express it more vividly. Thirteenth Madam’s hospitality is truly the most exhilarating and satisfying I have enjoyed since arriving in this northern land.”

As he set down the cup, the drunken man spoke with deep feeling. Indeed, to compress such exquisite sensations into a single jar of wine was no easy feat. That was precisely why a person like Thirteenth Madam would never casually use such a vintage to entertain a stranger. So at this moment, the drunken man paused slightly before changing his tone at once.

“Now then, tell me. You went to such trouble to entertain this madman—what is it that you seek? Speak plainly, so I do not keep turning it over in my mind. Owing favors to others is no pleasant thing.”