Chapter Six: The Tea Gathering

The next morning, after breakfast, the Liu family finally descended the mountain and returned home. As their carriage entered the city, a cacophony of sounds greeted them, and when the curtain was lifted, there was a sea of people flooding the streets. This vibrant, worldly atmosphere gave Liu Qin a jolt, awakening her body and spirit. The contrast between the tranquility of the mountain and the bustle below was stark—two entirely different worlds. The mundane world was better, with delicious food, fun things, and beautiful people to admire. Oh, it seemed she truly was a thoroughly ordinary soul.

Liu Qin took a deep breath of this worldly air and raised the curtain higher. Her small head pressed eagerly against the gap, greedily taking in the sights. To her surprise, she caught sight of an extraordinarily beautiful woman. The beauty’s carriage happened to pass by theirs, and at that moment, the woman lifted her own curtain and saw Liu Qin, who was dumbstruck. The beauty paused, then raised a delicate, fair hand to cover her peach-tinted lips, her eyes curving into a crescent moon with laughter, and finally, she winked at Liu Qin before dropping the curtain. The carriage rolled away, leaving Liu Qin staring in a daze at its departure.

A woman of grace on an upper floor, fair as she stands by the window. Her cheeks adorned with rouge, her slender hand emerging from silken sleeves.

Wow, she’s on the level of the Four Great Beauties! If she lived in modern times, she’d be at least a Miss Universe.

Still craning her neck to look back, Liu Qin’s maid Cui Yu curiously poked her own head out for a glance. “Miss, what are you looking at? The old lady says young ladies shouldn’t lift the curtains like this.”

“I’m not a miss, I’m a young master—the most handsome young master,” Liu Qin declared, patting her own small chest and letting the curtain drop as she withdrew into the carriage.

“Fine, the most handsome young master. Does that mean I must call you Master Liu from now on?” Cui Yu teased.

Liu Qin clapped her hands in delight. “Yes, yes! Later, let Uncle Fu tell everyone—they must call me young master. Anyone who calls me miss gets a beating.”

Cui Liu, nearby, burst out laughing, while Cui Yu rolled her eyes internally. Goodness, wait until the old lady scolds you.

Upon returning to the manor, Liu Qin hadn’t had a chance to inform Uncle Fu, the steward, of her plan to announce her new title before her father, Master Liu, mentioned it at the family tea gathering.

The Liu family had a cherished tradition: the evening tea gathering after dinner. During the day, everyone was busy with their own affairs. Although the eldest master wasn’t an official, he assisted Master Liu as an adviser, working on government matters in the office and taking lunch there. The household dined separately at midday, but only in the evening did the men return home and the family reunited for supper.

Ancient etiquette dictated silence during sleep and meals, so conversation wasn’t proper at dinner. Thus, after meals, everyone gathered in the main room, brewed fragrant tea, and chatted about family matters or street happenings—a platform for bonding and open conversation. Liu Qin called it the tea gathering.

Liu Qin believed tea gatherings were worth promoting. The harmony and unity in the Liu household owed much to this tradition. Imagine, if emperors and officials gathered their wives and concubines every day to discuss their thoughts, affirming those who cared for family and others, and guiding those burdened with worries, wouldn’t there be much less strife in palaces and homes?

But back to the story—the Liu family was progressive, valuing relationships between generations, so even children could participate. Children acted as lubricants; their laughter and applause could enliven the atmosphere. For the usually solemn and dignified Master Liu, Liu Qin was the perfect little lubricant.

This evening was no different. Everyone found their seats according to their status. Liu Qin was special; her seat was always her father’s lap—a sign of his affection and her deliberate choice. In her previous life, Liu Qin hadn’t been close to her parents. She realized later it wasn’t for lack of love, but for lack of expression. Like a field left untended, affection requires cultivation. Love needs to be expressed, whether to family or beloved; this was Liu Qin’s most important conclusion, and she acted on it.

Master Liu was the head and decision-maker. Only with his full support could Liu Qin do as she pleased in this world, so she wouldn’t miss any chance to build and strengthen their bond.

Holding his chubby, tender little daughter, Master Liu felt a wave of warmth. Seeing her moist, adoring eyes gazing at him, he felt intoxicated without wine; this was his happiest moment. Yet tonight, he sensed something amiss. After gazing at his daughter for a while, he stroked his beard and laughed, “I wondered why Qin’er looked odd today. Turns out it’s your outfit.”

The old lady blushed and glared at Liu Qin, half annoyed. “Qin’er is too mischievous. It’s my fault for spoiling her.”

Master Liu waved it off, looking down at Liu Qin with a smile. “Girl, what are you up to now?”

Liu Qin nestled in her father’s arms, glanced at him, then at her mother, then at her elder brother and sister-in-law and her two nephews, before replying solemnly, “I want to be like Father.”

“Oh?” The eldest master, amused, chimed in, “How do you want to be like Father, little sister?”

“Father can go outside,” Liu Qin pointed her little paw at the door. “Elder brother can go outside too. But Mother and sister-in-law must stay in the courtyard, they can’t go out.” She looked at them aggrievedly, as if bearing their burdens.

“You child, you make it sound as though your mother and sister-in-law are prisoners. Women have always managed the home, while men handle affairs outside. That’s how it’s always been. You’ll understand when you grow up and marry,” the old lady said, laughing and crying, taking the chance to instill the idea of gender roles.

But Liu Qin wasn’t buying it. She turned her head and pouted, “I don’t want to.”

Master Liu finally understood, pinching his daughter’s soft cheek. “So you don’t want to be cooped up in the inner courtyard, you want to go out and do big things like Father when you grow up.”

Father really was worthy of the title—he guessed it exactly. Liu Qin nodded enthusiastically.

“Our little sister has big ambitions,” the eldest master teased. “But you’re a girl—those who do big things don’t accept girls.”

Typical favoritism toward sons. Liu Qin couldn’t even be bothered to roll her eyes at him, searching for a retort when suddenly, Chao, her nephew, jumped up and solemnly declared, “Little uncle is a boy, just like us!”

Yes! Chao, good boy, you’re amazing. Liu Qin secretly sent him a rewarding little glance.

The old lady was puzzled. “Little uncle? Who’s little uncle?”

“Little uncle is little uncle,” Chao thought such a simple matter was beyond his grandmother. Clearly, grown-ups besides little uncle weren’t worth talking to, so he sought his brother’s help. “Brother.”

“Auntie said when she’s dressed like this, we can’t call her auntie, we have to call her little uncle,” Hai explained, slow but clear.

The old lady’s face fell at once. “What nonsense! Master, if you don’t discipline her, she’ll turn the house upside down.”

Master Liu wasn’t concerned, waving his hand. “Children’s words, don’t take them too seriously.” He turned to Liu Qin. “Girl, do you know going out to do big things is hard work? Look at Father.” He took Liu Qin’s chubby hand and let her feel the deep wrinkles on his forehead, then his beard. “And here—do you want to have wrinkles and a white beard like Father?”

Liu Qin studied her still-handsome father, who was well preserved, with the air of a middle-aged, charming gentleman. She hugged him and sincerely praised, “Father is handsome.” Then she turned to compliment her brother, “Brother is handsome too.”

Madam Cai, seeing her husband’s delighted face, laughed as well. “Mother, no wonder little sister is close to Father and her brother—it’s because we two women aren’t handsome.”

“This child…”