A New Type of Tea

"You must be sure to put up a good act, now. If he were to suspect anything, all my hard work would go to waste." Qingqing shook her finger at Xiaohu, who gave a short bark of laughter.

"Sister Qing, you're worried for nothing. Have you forgotten that beggars like me grow up relying on our acting to survive? I'll be shedding as many tears as if my mother just died." He cleared his throat importantly, preparing for the tears.

Qingqing sighed. "Now I'm afraid you'll overdo it, and make him suspicious. Don't cry, that's too much. You just need to act frightened, that's all. Make sure you tell him that you saw Miss Mao's men dragging me away, then he'll be sure to approach her when he can't see me."

Xiaohu eyed her dubiously. "Are you sure he won't see through your disguise, though?"

Qingqing raised her eyebrows. "Are you kidding? How could anyone possibly recognize me? Am I not the handsomest young waiter you've ever seen?" She ran a fingertip delicately down the moustache pasted over her upper lip, and sneezed immediately as some loose hairs tickled her nose. The moustache had been put together hastily with some paste and some of her hair she had cut off, and it was not very satisfactory.

Xiaohu snorted. "Handsome my foot. Sneeze a little harder and the whole thing will come off, I'm warning you." He eyed her critically. "Shuffle a little more when you walk and hunch your shoulders."

Swatting at him with the towel over her shoulder, Qingqing shooed him onto his way. "Get along with you or you'll be too late and spoil everything. I'm more than capable of doing my part, don't you worry. Worry about your own part. If we don't pull this off I'll have wasted a whole silver coin and a whole lot of energy."

Xiaohu ran off and she hurriedly slipped inside the teahouse to check on their prey.

Qingqing exhaled a relieved breath as she saw Mao Xiang settling herself down at one of the best tables, slightly removed from the rest of the crowd in a corner. She had stalked Miss Mao everyday industriously, and found this was a teahouse she often frequented when she got hungry or thirsty during her shopping trips. There were only two teahouses in town of a reputable nature--of course Miss Mao could not be seen drinking tea at a roadside stall, or at some shoddy little building--so she did not have many choices to start with.

True to her personality, Qingqing had made her preparations, yet in the end her plan still hung on perfect timing and coincidence. The moment Mao Xiang headed towards the teahouse she had flown into action. Xiaohu had long since been recruited and he already knew what to do.

She strutted confidently into the teahouse, then remembered Xiaohu's instructions and quickly adapted to a shuffling walk.

Opening her palm, she glanced at the small embroidered pouch inside--the love philtre she had wheedled from XiXi.

"You'd better be worth my silver coin," she muttered darkly to it. "If you're a fake, XiXi will have to deal with my fangs."

Closing her fingers over it, she made her way briskly towards where Mao Xiang and Xiaojun were sitting.

Mao Xiang turned as a waiter came hurrying towards them, head bowed respectfully. She looked away, uninterested, as the waiter said in a curiously muffled voice, "What would you like, Miss?"

Examining her fingernails, Mao Xiang gestured at Xiaojun. "I want pork and shrimp dumplings, and rice noodle rolls. Also a plate of roasted sesame cakes."

Xiaojun passed on the order as carefully as if the waiter could not have heard what her mistress had just said. Qingqing nodded meekly, but she had already forgotten the first item. "Of course. Certainly. Would Miss be so kind as to wait a while,"she mumbled.

Looking curiously after the waiter's retreating figure, Xiaojun remarked, "That boy is so shy, he barely looked up at all. He must be very young and inexperienced."

"I am aware that I do have that effect on most people," Mao Xiang replied carelessly. "But I can't be bothered to wear a veil. Really, it's too troublesome. Let me be generous. Poor boy, he must be overwhelmed." she added kindly.

Xiaojun smothered a laugh. Young Mistress was in a good mood, she deduced.

Qingqing loitered around the tables near the door, keeping an eye on a fresh pot of tea that had just been served to an old gentleman. She seized the chance when the old man turned aside to spit out of the window to spirit it away and whisked it behind a pillar.

The old man looked confusedly at his bare table, clearly questioning how senile he had become, as she shook the contents of the small purse into the pot energetically, holding the towel in her teeth as a sort of curtain. Crumpling up the empty purse and stuffing it into her belt, she made her way back to Mao Xiang's table purposefully. She had to make sure the timing was just right.

Xiaojun folded her sleeves back neatly and poured tea for her lady. She handed the cup to Mao Xiang, then reached out expectantly and frowned. The silly boy had only given them one cup. He really was young and inexperienced. She was about to hail a passing waiter when Mao Xiang spoke, and she obligingly stopped to listen.

"Xiaojun, is Father having Lord Yang over to dinner again today?"

Xiaojun shook her head. "I'm not sure, Young Mistress. Should we return earlier in case?"

Mao Xiang sniffed and sipped thoughtfully at her tea. "No. Why should I? He's Father's guest, not mine."

"But Lord Yang is a great admirer of you." Xiaojun offered. "The last time he came, he gave you a rare jade bangle."

"I have plenty of admirers," Mao Xiang said pettishly. Her voice fell somewhat. "I know he gives me nice presents, and compliments me--but I just don't like him."

Xiaojun hesitated. "Well," she said at last, "if I may be so bold as to say so, I believe His Excellency needs Lord Yang's help, and thus Lord Yang's admiration for you is to his advantage."

Mao Xiang sighed. For a moment she had lost her childish air. "I know that, Xiaojun. I can tell that much. Why do you think I've been smiling at him? I know Father needs his help, so I'm trying to help in my own way. But anyway, I don't like him." She looked moodily out of the window.

She put her empty cup down on the table. "This tea tastes odd," she remarked. "Did you order a new type of tea or something?"

"Is it not to Young Mistress' taste? Let me call the waiter to change it," offered Xiaojun, picking up the teapot.

Mao Xiang started as a shadow fell across her. "Eh?"

"Miss Mao. I must be so bold as to disturb you."

Her startled eyes fell on Yuanzheng's face, looking pale and desperate.