Plum Wine (Part Two)

"Father..."

An old man with a white beard and plain robes stepped over the threshold and walked slowly toward them. Li Yang hurried forward to pay his respects.

"Father, these two have really gone too far."

"You have gone too far! Our guests are looking for fine wine. Whether we have any or not, the Li family ought to treat them honestly."

The old man swept both sleeves back and continued forward. His eyes were bright, weathered by all the vicissitudes of life, as though they could see into people's hearts.

"This old man is Li Fengchun. My son has been discourteous. Might I ask our guests' names?"

"I am Li Yu."

Li Fengchun smiled. "So you are Gang Leader Li, who slew a tiger with one stroke of his sword at Black Sand Wharf and frightened off a hundred men. I have long heard of you."

Li Yang's face filled with astonishment. He simply could not connect this man, as handsome as an actress playing a maiden onstage, with the fierce figure of recent rumors. All he felt was relief that he had not ordered the guards to attack.

Li Yu smiled. "You are well informed, sir."

Li Fengchun waved a hand. "Li Manor owes everything it has today to the friends in the jianghu who have shown us consideration. We must not forget our roots. Yang, open the north cellar."

"Many thanks."

The north cellar had been sealed for a long time. Dust covered its doors, and the mechanism had grown stiff. Li Yang had several jars of tung oil poured into it before seven or eight guards pushed together, slowly opening the thick, iron-clad wooden doors.

Several streams of dust shot out like sword light beneath the piercing sunlight.

Li Fengchun smiled. "After you, Gang Leader Li."

"Thank you, sir."

"No need for courtesy. Among people of the realm of wine, wine determines seniority."

Li Yu smiled. That was an interesting remark. He turned and stepped into the Li family's oldest wine cellar.

Thirty-six rows of ironwood racks.

The wine jars that met his eyes were covered in dust, some tall, some short, some fat, some thin.

In the east and west cellars, the jars and their clay seals had all looked alike, orderly and uniform, without a thing out of place.

The jars here looked like a motley army.

Li Yang murmured, "Fine martial skills do not necessarily mean he knows wine."

"Do not talk nonsense."

Li Fengchun glared at his son, then looked at the two walking ahead. This cellar had weathered sixty years. Barring anything unexpected, it might not be opened even once in several years. He, too, was curious what fine wine Li Yu could find.

"What sort of wine are you looking for?"

"A vintage with ten years of aging."

"Li Yang said earlier that the wines in the west cellar were all at least twenty years old..."

Qin Xiu glanced back. Li Fengchun and Li Yang were following, neither too close nor too far away. She lowered her voice.

"Was he being dishonest?"

Li Yu's gaze roamed over the wooden racks. After a moment's thought, he said, "If every year spent in the jianghu meant another year of accumulated cultivation, people could simply exchange visiting cards and give their birth dates when they met to determine whose martial arts were superior. Wouldn't that spare them many disputes?"

"Of course it does not work that way."

Qin Xiu did not understand wine, but she understood martial arts. Had she not been injured, her internal strength alone would have surpassed Li Yu's at present.

"Some people have exceptional natural aptitude. One year of their cultivation equals five years for someone else. Others are blessed with great fortune and obtain miraculous pills, precious medicines, or secret manuals of divine arts, even advancing a thousand miles in a day. Besides, if you cannot return from the acquired to the innate before sixty, transforming internal strength into True Qi, your body gradually declines. Continuing to cultivate then does more harm than good."

"So an earlier birth date is not necessarily better. The strength of one's martial arts depends on both innate gifts and opportunities acquired later..."

"Wine is the same."

Li Yu took over. "Storing wine for ten years after brewing does not necessarily give it ten years of Wine Qi. Some wines have dull natural aptitude and cannot endure for long. Some cannot withstand the passing years, losing their savor and Qi. And if there is even a little crooked intent, a hundred years will still leave you with nothing but a jar of foul water."

"Ten-year-old wine is easy to find. An aged vintage that can store a full ten years of Wine Qi is one in a thousand."

Qin Xiu found his comparison of wine to people rather interesting. She had never drunk wine, but now she felt a little interest herself. She said softly, "It seems this wine-drinking martial art you practice is no simple matter either."

"If it were simple, the jianghu would have Northern Qiao Feng and Southern Li Yu!"

"Blue carp?"

Qin Xiu found it awkward to say and laughed. "Then there ought to be red carp, green carp, golden carp, and lots and lots of other fish. No wonder you insist on being the Fish-Dragon Gang's leader. You want to live up to your name."

"A carp transforming into a dragon. Thank you for those auspicious words."

"I wasn't offering any auspicious words. I don't want you to be some gang leader at all..."

As she spoke, her voice faded.

Li Yu smiled, then suddenly stopped. He looked toward the very top of the rack to his left, where a small vermilion jar stood conspicuously. Apart from its age, it looked utterly ordinary. Delight flashed in his eyes.

Qin Xiu asked, "Found it?"

Li Yu nodded. Only now did the wine worm in his belly open its eyes. He raised a hand and took down the vermilion wine jar.

He carefully sniffed its Wine Qi.

"What a fine ten-year vintage!"

It was slightly less potent than Bow-Shaped Moon, but its lingering finish was like a wisp of smoke, gradually emerging from nothing, moistening all things without a sound. It suited the Returning Wind Brushes the Willow he practiced very well. With its help, he might even achieve a breakthrough in his swordsmanship.

"What is this wine called?"

"Plum wine."

Li Yang fought back a smile. What a fine Master Nanguo, passing himself off among the musicians!

"These little vermilion jars were brewed while my grandfather, Li Gengtang, was still alive. As for their age... they certainly have plenty!"

Each jar had originally held five catties. Over time, either hidden cracks had formed around the mouths or the sealing clay had crumbled, allowing their savor and Qi to escape until less than half remained. Two years ago, he had opened them one by one and discovered that their contents had long since turned to sour water, too teeth-achingly acidic even for cooking.

"Over three hundred jars were poured away. Who could have imagined another jar of plum wine was hiding here?"

Li Yang laughed inwardly.

"Luckily, I didn't find it then. Otherwise, how would I have this entertainment today?"

Holding the little jar, Li Yu nodded slightly. "What fine plum wine. Sweetness and tartness in harmony, renewed with age, with a long, lingering finish."

Li Yang turned to look at the racks to the west, his fingers clenched tight and his face contorted. He truly could not hold it in any longer. Had he not feared Li Yu's martial prowess and reputation, he would have laughed himself flat on the spot.

"Sweetness and tartness in harmony, renewed with age, with a long, lingering finish..."

"Brandishing an axe at the master carpenter's door, passing himself off among the musicians, making himself a laughingstock before experts!"

Those twelve characters, set against the other twelve, would make a fine accompaniment to wine and rice.

He pondered having those two lines written in calligraphy as a couplet and hanging them before his bed.

A daily laugh.

Li Fengchun glanced at his son. Li Yang had reported the matter of those three hundred jars of plum wine. They had been fine wine in their day, but had failed to withstand the passing years. He looked at the seemingly identical jar and clay seal. Could there... be something different about it?

"Gang Leader Li, might you let me take a look?"

"Of course."

Li Fengchun accepted the vermilion wine jar with both hands and gently swirled it. The sound alone told him it was less than half full.

"Father, how is it?"

Laughter hid in Li Yang's eyes. He meant to give his old father a little amusement.

Li Fengchun's expression gradually grew solemn. His eyes stung, and tears actually fell. In the end, he was almost sobbing bitterly. "I drank wine at three and brewed it at ten. I have lived sixty years in vain, with eyes that could not see. I nearly left a bright pearl buried in dust..."

"Father?"

Li Yang felt as though his head were about to explode. He hurriedly took the wine jar, and the instant it entered his hands, his expression froze.

"From the sound, well over half the wine is clearly gone. Why has its weight barely decreased? Could it be... essence locked in and vitality secured, Qi and liquid mingled? Could this be that king of wines... found only by chance, never by seeking?"

With the wine worm within him, Li Yu could accurately sense how many years of Wine Qi a jar had accumulated, which was why he called it a "ten-year vintage." Wine brewers lacked such keen perception, but through years of accumulated experience, they had their own standards of judgment.

Among wine lovers, wine determined the hero.

The Li father and son adamantly refused a single coin, insisting on giving this jar of plum wine to the man who had recognized it at first glance.