Jinghe Fourteenth Year, the eighteenth day of the twelfth lunar month. Light snow.
An hour had passed since the Regular Court Audience ended.
Inside the Eastern Warm Pavilion of the Palace of Heavenly Purity, the charcoal fire burned fiercely.
Emperor Jing of Zhou sat behind the Imperial Desk, with the memorials before him divided into two stacks.
The taller held routine documents submitted by the Six Ministries.
The shorter held Greetings Memorials from governors and governors-general across the realm.
Emperor Jing of Zhou held his Vermilion Brush, his brow faintly furrowed. He had been writing imperial responses for half an hour.
When he came to an important matter, he gave it a closer look.
When he encountered formulaic greetings, a stroke of the Vermilion Brush and the word "Read" sufficed.
Wang Cheng stood attending at his side, holding freshly brewed Dragon Garden Snow, its steam curling upward.
He studied the emperor's expression, not daring to speak, and merely set the tea cup gently on a corner of the Imperial Desk before retreating a step to stand with his hands lowered.
Silence filled the hall, broken only by the faint sound of the vermilion-tipped brush touching paper.
After finishing another memorial, Emperor Jing of Zhou laid down his brush, lifted the tea cup, and took a sip.
The tea was clear and bright, slightly bitter on the tongue, but its sweet aftertaste lingered.
"Wang Cheng."
"This old servant is here."
"How does tea taste like spring in the twelfth month?"
"Your Majesty, this is Dragon Garden Snow."
At the name of the tea, Emperor Jing of Zhou frowned.
"How much does it cost to make?"
"Er..." Wang Cheng hesitated.
Emperor Jing of Zhou demanded again, "Answer truthfully."
Wang Cheng could only report, "Your Majesty, Dragon Garden Snow is generally made by