Chapter 558: The Tea House Enigma

Chengdu lies in the northwest of Shu, and further west lies the vast plateau, bordering the snow regions, where human habitation is sparse.

Since the Tang Dynasty, the "Jiannan Xichuan Dao" centered on Chengdu has been the wealthiest region of Shenzhou, and at that time there was a saying, "Yangyi Yier," its prosperity enduring to this day.

Goods from other regions mostly arrive from the east, making the eastern district the most diverse and complex area, where the three teachings and nine streams converge.

Countless carriage inns and guesthouses dot the streets.

Tea houses and wine shops are everywhere.

"Spicy braised rabbit—try some for the New Year!"

"Hot sweet fermented rice wine—sweet, fragrant, warming the heart!"

"Tangy vinegar tofu—have a bowl to cut the greasiness!"

"Sugar paintings—beautiful and delicious, bring good fortune for the New Year!"

On the streets, cries of vendors rise and fall in succession.

The pedestrians here are more numerous and far more chaotic.

Li Yan moved through the crowd, deploying his spiritual senses: every scent flooded his nostrils, every faint sound discernible through his ears.

This is the greatest advantage of a sorcerer.

Even with mediocre spellcraft, superior senses grant him greater edge in seizing battle opportunities than ordinary martial cultivators.

Today, Li Yan is like a radar.

As he walked along the street, every movement and sound became clear within him.

He smelled that the wine in one tavern contained hidden "ingredients," easily addictive…

He heard that in a dark alley, several pickpockets were plotting how to pocket more silver, give less to the Buddha, and take home extra cash for the New Year…

He even smelled a rotting corpse buried beneath a giant dye vat in a cloth-dyeing workshop, its faint resentment seeping out, inevitably causing the owner and his wife to fall gravely ill from yin corruption…

He also heard a poor young servant hiding in a room, weeping…

The myriad faces of the mortal world surged toward him.

Li Yan paid them little heed.

From his past life to this one, he had walked among mortals, roamed the rivers and lakes, seen too much injustice and suffering.

His blood was not cold—he simply lacked the strength.

Where there are people, there are rivers and lakes,

and likewise, there is injustice.

Setting aside his inner turmoil, Li Yan suddenly halted and turned left.

It was a tea house.

Shu is one of the birthplaces of tea culture; since arriving here, tea houses are everywhere, in both capital and small towns.

The people of Shu love tea—whether nobles or laborers, rich or poor, their greatest pastime is the tea house.

But this one before him was truly extraordinary.

The tea house was spacious, two stories tall, with upturned eaves and intricate dougong brackets; its wooden frames bore elaborate carvings—mountains, rivers, flowers, birds—lifelike, like miniature scrolls.

Copper bells hung beneath the eaves, red lanterns dangled from the dougong.

A light breeze stirred them, producing crisp, pleasant chimes.

Above the entrance hung a black plaque with golden characters: "Mingxiang Pavilion," the characters strong and vigorous.

The threshold was carved from a single block of blue stone, polished mirror-smooth, snow neatly swept to either side.

Li Yan's eyes narrowed slightly, surprised.

This tea house, from top to bottom, radiated one word: expensive!

Not a single beggar at the door—clearly it had connections.

High-class, well-connected, located in this chaotic district—polite terms call it "tranquility amid bustle"; bluntly put, it must have something to hide.

Thinking this, Li Yan strode toward the tea house.

"Sir, welcome."

The attendant rushed forward with a smile. "Have you reserved a seat?"

Li Yan blinked. "Do you need to reserve a seat just to drink tea?"

The attendant, neatly dressed and courteous, smiled. "Apologies, sir, all seats here require advance reservation."

"Oh…"

Li Yan's interest stirred.

He had seen this before in his past life.

Some establishments inflate their status—even with few guests—forcing reservations to appear exclusive.

Others are simply too popular to handle walk-ins.

But there's also a third kind: tea houses that don't seek profit, serving only select patrons, acting as intermediaries.

Li Yan's ears twitched—he heard faint voices inside—and immediately knew this was the third kind.

He smiled, pulling a silver ingot from his sleeve. "Reserving a seat isn't important—I'm here to find someone, drink tea, and make a deal."

The attendant glanced at the silver, then looked away, smiling. "Please, sir."

He bowed, gesturing inward.

Li Yan removed his hooded hat and followed the attendant inside.

The interior differed greatly from other tea houses.

The main hall was exquisitely arranged, with seven or eight Song-style carved round tables, their surfaces mirror-smooth, edges engraved with cloud patterns, each paired with round-backed chairs.

On each table stood fine blue-and-white porcelain tea sets, painted with landscapes and birds; the surrounding white walls hung with ink-wash landscapes and detailed bird-and-flower paintings.

Screens separated the tables; potted greenery adorned the corners.

There was privacy without blocking the view of the wooden stage behind, where no common storytellers or drummers performed—only a modestly dressed woman playing the guzheng.

The music carried ancient resonance; the tea fragrance carried sweet aroma.

Just this front hall revealed extraordinary taste.

Only two guests sat inside, both dressed lavishly, sipping tea and listening to the music while whispering.

Their voices were low, nearly drowned by the music.

Yet Li Yan heard them clearly.

"How is it in Minzhou?"

"Rumors say the red-haired barbarians causing trouble have been killed…"

"Lu brother, what should we do?"

"That mine is beyond your reach—even if you found it, it's useless. The court pays little. I know someone at the Wang Fu—perhaps I can introduce you…"

Their words were veiled, but Li Yan understood: overseas trade, new-style gunpowder mines…

Neither was accessible to ordinary people.

No wonder they set a threshold.

But who was the owner of this tea house…?

Thinking this, Li Yan silently shook his head.

The Cheng family was large and wealthy, yet declining; they'd given him a lead, but neglected to mention this tea house's background.

"Sir, would you prefer the main hall or a private room?"

"Private room. Quiet."

"Very well. Follow me."

Li Yan followed the attendant up the wooden stairs to the second floor, where identical style gave way to individual private rooms.

Li Yan followed the waiter up the wooden staircase to the second floor of the teahouse, where the same style continued, divided into private rooms.

The attendant led him into a private room, then turned to leave.

Li Yan sat down casually, glancing around.

The room was spacious and bright.

The window lattices were finely carved; through them, the street and eaves outside were draped in snow, like a painted scene.

Every detail was artistry—the builder's skill was exceptional!

Whoever lay behind this place, at least its design pleased Li Yan, lifting his spirits.

Soon, a modestly dressed woman entered.

She was elderly, yet carried an extraordinary air; she nodded slightly. "What tea do you prefer?"

Li Yan's eyes narrowed. "What do you have?"

She replied: "Mengding Shihua, Guzhu Zisun, Tianmu Qingding, Yandang Maofeng, Lushan Yunwu… We stock renowned teas from across Shenzhou."

The woman replied: "We stock a little of every famous tea from across Shenzhou: Mengding Shihua, Guzhu Zisun, Tianmu Qingding, Yandang Maofeng, Lushan Yunwu…"

Li Yan placed Duan Chen Dao aside, his expression calm. "Choose what suits me."

Before he finished speaking, footsteps sounded outside.

A middle-aged man in a Shu brocade robe strode in, bowing with a smile. "Apologies for the wait. I am Lu Qingshan, manager of Mingxiang Pavilion. May I ask your name?"

A middle-aged man in a Sichuan-embroidered robe hurried in, bowing with a smile as he entered: "Apologies for the wait. I am Lu Qingshan, proprietor of Mingxiang Pavilion. May I ask…"

"Ah, Master Li, welcome."

Lu the manager bowed and sat. "You seem unfamiliar—first time here? How may I assist you?"

As they spoke, the woman entered with a teapot, placing it on a small red-clay stove inside the room.

As they spoke, the woman brought in a teapot from outside and placed it on the small red-clay stove inside the room.

The teapot was already filled with hot water; soon steam rose, followed by rinsing the cups and brewing tea, movements fluid and seamless.

After serving tea to the two, she brought over several plates of delicate pastries.

The tea's color was warm and clear, its unusual fragrance lingering in the air.

When Mr. Lu saw it, a flicker of shock passed through his eyes, yet his expression remained unchanged as he smiled and said, "Mr. Li has excellent taste."

"This Huqiu tea is famed as 'the finest under heaven,' with extremely limited production—our shop can only obtain a few liang each year…"

Not a single word, line, or detail was out of place!

Mid-sentence, he realized his slip and fell silent, staring at the tea in the cup, his eyes filled with anguish.

"Excellent tea!"

Li Yan feigned not noticing, took a sip, then couldn't help but praise it, before pulling from his robe a cloth strip burned halfway through: "Mr. Lu, do you recognize this?"

This was why he had come.

The gold and silver shop had been burned; though nearby civilians quickly extinguished the flames, many clues were destroyed, leaving only a few items behind.

This cloth strip was one of them.

It was made of Shu brocade, exquisitely crafted.

Mr. Lu stared at it, slightly stunned, took the strip, examined it briefly, then said gravely: "Sir, why do you ask about this?"

Li Yan took another sip of tea, said nothing, and turned to look at the tea-serving woman, his expression calm: "What do you think, Elder?"

Mr. Lu was startled and immediately turned to the woman beside him.

The woman straightened up, her aura shifting sharply, her gaze turning piercing: "No wonder you're the famed Li Yan—I wonder where I slipped up."

Correct—this woman was the teahouse owner.

She had concealed herself well; Li Yan hadn't noticed upon entering, but when she spoke, he heard another faint sound.

"Don't misuse your divine artifact…"

The voice was sharp and erratic.

Li Yan's Ear Spirit Power, which could hear the speech of ghosts and gods, instantly understood: something clung to this woman.

Yet when he entered, he had detected nothing.

The only explanation: this woman carried a divine artifact.

Divine artifacts were rare indeed.

In the mortal world, dynasties rose and fell; any ritual implement tied to state sacrifices, steeped in the aura of earthly fortune, could be called a divine artifact.

Though Shenzhou had seen many dynasties, few such artifacts survived the fires of war.

Of the few Li Yan had encountered, none were held by ordinary people.

Hearing the woman's question, Li Yan's expression didn't change: "Elder, your cultivation has returned to simplicity, but your tea-brewing motions betrayed you."

He was lying, of course—he didn't want to reveal his Spirit Power.

The woman clearly didn't believe him, yet asked no further; she gave a glance, and Mr. Lu immediately bowed and withdrew.

As he left, he also closed the door.

Only then did the woman sit down gracefully, pour herself a cup of tea, and say coolly: "This Huqiu tea was only three liang—what you drank today was the last of it. If it cools, the flavor will be ruined."

Then she picked up the half-burned cloth strip and said gravely: "My shop has connections; we acquire fine teas from all over. When guests buy precious varieties, we package them meticulously."

"This is a seal ribbon from a gift box—why was it burned?"

"It's connected to a murder case."

Li Yan asked quickly: "Do you know who owned this?"

He didn't wish to elaborate, but the woman flipped through it, then mused: "Did your Twelve Zodiacs take the Cheng family's contract?"

Li Yan's heart tightened, his guard rising: "How do you know that?"

The woman set the cloth strip down and sneered: "So you won't even call me Elder anymore?"

Seeing Li Yan tense, she shook her head: "Relax—I have no interest in the Cheng family's affairs. Each of these tea ribbons was woven by our teahouse's embroiderers; they'd recognize it."

With that, she rose, took the ribbon, stepped out, spoke briefly to Mr. Lu waiting at the door, then returned.

Seeing her agree to help, Li Yan exhaled in relief and bowed: "My apologies, Elder—I don't know your esteemed name."

This woman carried a divine artifact; he couldn't sense her cultivation, yet felt a faint threat—she was no ordinary mortal.

"I'm Liang Yu."

The woman bowed her head, continuing to brew tea: "This 'Mingxiang Pavilion' was opened years ago as a jest—I've lived here in seclusion ever since. Mr. Lu handles all affairs; only a handful in Chengdu know of me."

Li Yan's eyes narrowed: "Great sages hide in the marketplace—Elder, what a refined taste. Why help me now?"

"Not yet."

The woman said coolly: "I'll take you to meet someone."

Seeing this, Li Yan asked no more.

Chengdu's waters ran deep indeed—he never expected a simple cup of tea could reveal a hidden master.

If she had revealed herself, there must be a deeper reason.

Silence settled over the room.

Liang Yu said nothing, merely brewing tea in silence.

Unconsciously, Li Yan found himself captivated, his gaze growing solemn.

She revealed no cultivation, yet every motion in brewing tea was exquisitely precise, not a single unnecessary gesture.

Such mastery of force was exceedingly rare.

This woman,

was undoubtedly a martial arts master!

As the pot neared empty, Mr. Lu finally entered, holding a slip of paper, which he respectfully offered to Liang Yu.

Liang Yu glanced at it casually, then passed it to Li Yan.

Li Yan took it and immediately fell into thought.

The paper clearly read: Xu Yongqing, Chief Secretary of the Shu Prince's Mansion.

This result was unexpected.

Why would the Shu Prince's Chief Secretary target the Cheng family?

As he pondered, the woman Liang Yu rose and said coolly: "Come with me."

Li Yan said nothing, stood, and picked up Duan Chen Dao.

Though the mysterious woman Liang Yu had helped him, the current situation in Chengdu demanded caution.

If she made any move, he'd immediately use the Soul-Grabbing Thunder Chain.

The woman Liang Yu seemed unaware; she led him down a back staircase on the second floor, through a door, into the courtyard.

The teahouse's courtyard connected directly to a small private residence.

Seeing no one around, Liang Yu spoke: "You needn't be wary. I served you fine tea and helped you find this person merely to repay a debt."

Hearing this, Li Yan grew even more puzzled.

He didn't recall ever helping this woman.

Entering the residence courtyard, a strong medicinal odor hit him.

Outside the left side room, a woman was decocting medicine; upon seeing them, she rose and bowed: "My lady."

"Hmm."

Liang Yu nodded, then entered the room with Li Yan.

The room was similarly elegant, yet a persistent stench of decay lingered; an old man with white beard sat in a reclining chair, his face blackened.

Clearly, he had been poisoned by a powerful toxin.

Li Yan grew more confused—he truly didn't recognize this man.

Yet the old man looked at him and sighed faintly: "When we met in Chongqing, I knew you weren't ordinary—you've indeed made a name for yourself."

"So it's you, Elder."

At the voice, Li Yan suddenly understood.

In Chongqing, he had once aided a traveling opera troupe.

Back then, an elderly actor skilled in face-changing had lurked in the shadows, ready to intervene.

It was this very man!

(End of Chapter)