It was supposed to be a quiet morning.
Wei Long had just settled down with a chipped teacup, half a bun, and the vague hope that no one would call him "Master" for at least twenty minutes.
Naturally, the universe had other plans.
A golden carriage thundered up the mountain trail, escorted by horsemen clad in lacquered armor and bearing banners with a dragon sigil. Dust swirled. Birds fled. Lin Qian spilled porridge on herself and declared it an omen.
Wei Long didn't even look up. "What now? Heavenly auditors? Divine tax collectors?"
Duan Fei ran into the courtyard shouting, "It's a royal carriage! Someone from the palace is here!"
Wei Long sighed. "Of course they are."
The carriage doors opened with a dramatic creak, revealing a handsome young man with sharp eyebrows, a smug smile, and robes too clean for any road. He stepped out and announced:
"I am Prince Jin Wu, nephew of the Emperor and first in line to the throne that no one will give me."
Wei Long blinked. "Condolences?"
The prince ignored him. "I have heard tales of a man who commands beasts, manipulates fate, and defeats warriors through mere glances. I've come to see if you are worthy of your reputation."
Wei Long stood up and brushed crumbs from his robe. "I think you have the wrong—"
"I challenge you," Jin Wu interrupted, "to tea."
Wei Long paused. "What?"
The prince smiled. "A tea ceremony. My personal style — Nine Breaths of Thunderleaf. If your intent is purer, your pour more stable, your steeping more balanced… I shall admit your superiority."
Wei Long glanced toward Duan Fei and Lin Qian. They were already setting out mats and preparing kettles like this was a sacred rite.
He muttered, "Why can't anyone challenge me to a nap…"
The tea ceremony began.
Prince Jin Wu moved with elegance and practiced flair. He measured, poured, and flicked his sleeves like a man performing before a thousand ghosts. Steam danced as if obeying his breath. The disciples watched in awe.
Wei Long, meanwhile, was fumbling with a cracked pot that still smelled faintly of chicken broth. He poured too much water, dropped one of the cups, and used a twig to stir the leaves.
Jin Wu sneered. "Do you mock tradition, Master Wei?"
"I mock gravity," Wei Long said. "It mocks me more."
Then, as fate would have it, a breeze swept through the courtyard.
Jin Wu's elegant cup — perched too precisely — tipped. The tea spilled onto his lap.
Wei Long's unbalanced brew, held awkwardly between his knees, somehow remained upright.
A stray leaf floated from Jin Wu's pot, spun in midair, and landed gently in Wei Long's cup, completing the steep.
Silence.
Then, Lin Qian gasped.
Duan Fei dropped to his knees. "Did you see? He let the wind judge the tea!"
Jin Wu stared at his soaked robes, then at the perfect leaf-centered cup in Wei Long's hand.
"…This was a test," he whispered.
Wei Long looked at him, baffled. "Yes?"
"You wanted to show me that true mastery lies in surrendering to the world. That tea, like life, cannot be forced."
Wei Long blinked. "Exactly."
Jin Wu stood, bowed low, and said with genuine reverence:"Master Wei Long, I yield. You have opened my third palate."
Wei Long raised a brow. "You mean eye?"
"No. Palate. I taste… destiny."
That evening, Jin Wu insisted on gifting Wei Long a golden token — imperial-grade — which would allow him to enter the palace at any time.
Wei Long stared at it like it might bite him. "Why would I want to do that?"
"To advise my uncle. Or confuse him. Honestly, I'd enjoy either."
Wei Long took it reluctantly.
The prince mounted his horse, turned dramatically, and declared:"Farewell, Master! The court shall speak your name in whispers and riddles!"
And then he galloped off into the night.
Lin Qian turned to Wei Long, eyes shining."You defeated a prince with tea."
Wei Long looked at his broken cup."…I didn't even use real leaves. That was moss."
Duan Fei nodded solemnly. "Nature steeps through you."
Wei Long groaned."I need stronger tea."
To be continued…