Chapter 107: Watching Magic at the Rain Listening Studio, Savoring Wine from Five-Colored Cups with the Wandering Dragon

Ink tests small spirals, watching the inkstone; tea divides into fine milk, playing with the brush cup.

Song Mo’s eyes followed the young girl selling osmanthus cakes as she entered the Listening Rain Studio, his heart filled with curiosity. Soon, she approached the tea drinkers’ table and softly asked, “Gentlemen, fresh steamed osmanthus cakes, fragrant and sweet. Would you like to buy a piece?”

Song Mo couldn’t help but smile wryly. It turned out the girl was reluctant to eat the few remaining cakes herself, so she came to the teahouse to sell them.

Smiling, yet a pang of sadness welled up—both were people of hard fate, yet their sorrow remained unresolved.

Song Mo sipped his tea and did not inquire further. Though he bought all the osmanthus cakes, he returned them to the girl; how she dealt with them was no concern of his.

He and Xia Yu drank their tea before the Buddha when the performer on the Listening Rain Studio’s platform changed—a young magician.

Song Mo glanced up. The magician was an ordinary-looking youth, short in stature, the kind easily lost in a crowd.

His magic was somewhat raw, suggesting he had only recently begun performing. His skills were unrefined, and he seemed nervous. Even a simple five-color wine trick had him fumbling.

Before the young magician on the empty table lay a wine pot and five transparent glass cups. He slowly lifted the pot and filled the five empty cups with white liquor.

Nervously, he spilled quite a bit; some spectators below began to whistle derisively.

Such behavior was disrespectful to the magician, but the young man only blushed in embarrassment without showing any displeasure.

When the whistles died down, he took a deep breath and blew gently on four of the glasses.

He sang out, “Zhao!”

Instantly, the five transparent glasses took on visible colors. Except for the untouched cup, the other four turned yellow, red, green, and black.

Seeing the color change succeed, the young magician’s face brightened considerably. He pricked up his ears, carefully watching the audience’s reaction.

Yet, disappointment soon followed.

No applause, no tips.

The reason was simple: the five-color wine trick was too common. Most patrons at Listening Rain Studio were regulars who had seen it countless times; it no longer impressed them.

But then, applause arose softly from below.

Song Mo turned to see the source—a young girl selling osmanthus cakes.

Her face was surprised, yet filled with a satisfied joy. Clearly, she was unaccustomed to such performances.

The young magician, upon seeing the applause, smiled broadly, gaining a measure of confidence. He shot a grateful glance toward the girl.

At that moment, a rough voice shouted nearby.

“What are you showing off for, you stinky woman? If you’re not drinking tea, get out quickly. Don’t delay this gentleman’s entertainment.”

Not far from the girl, a portly man dressed in indigo silk long robes growled impatiently.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll leave right away,” the girl hastily apologized. The fat man caught a clear look at her face, his small beady eyes gleamed lecherously.

“Trying to leave? Too late!” The man grinned lewdly. “Since you’ve spoiled my mood, you’ll have to drink with me to cheer me up.”

With that, his greasy hands reached for the girl’s delicate white hand.

Just as he was about to succeed, a sharp slap echoed. A piece of osmanthus cake, bitten twice and thrown with perfect aim, hit the fat man’s oily face.

“Who? Who the hell dares?” The man sprang up, furious, shouting.

His face, smeared with cake crumbs, looked comical, drawing loud laughter from the tea guests.

The fat man’s anger flared further, curses spilling from his mouth.

“Your ancestors did this,” came a teasing voice.

The fat man looked up to see a young man in the corner—Song Mo.

“You say what? I haven’t finished eating, why did you throw it?” Xia Yu, beside Song Mo, complained.

The fat man was about to curse when he noticed Xia Yu’s purple official robe of the Six Doors.

As the saying goes, “Commoners do not fight officials.” His arrogant spirit immediately deflated.

“Ah, it’s you two, milords. I didn’t recognize you and disturbed your peace. I’ll leave at once,” he said with a forced smile.

Song Mo remained silent, but Xia Yu glared at the fat man and spoke coldly, “You scared my friend just now. What do you say to that?”

The fat man glanced at the osmanthus cake girl, understanding immediately. Hastily, he pulled out all his loose silver coins and stuffed them into her hand before fleeing the Listening Rain Studio.

The girl blushed, shyly walking over to bow and thank Song Mo and Xia Yu.

Xia Yu waved her off, while Song Mo said, “Since fate has brought us together, why not have a cup of tea together?”

Knowing Song Mo was no villain, the girl did not refuse and sat at their table.

The attentive waiter quickly brought tea cups and poured hot tea.

“Another round,” Song Mo said louder, tossing a silver tael onto the platform.

The young magician’s face brightened instantly. He picked up the silver and tucked it away, responding cheerfully, “Alright, sir, since you enjoy tea, I shall perform a little trick for you.”

Song Mo nodded slightly without comment, and the magician came down to sit beside him.

The waiter promptly brought another tea cup.

“Watch as I add tea for you three!” the magician said cheerfully.

He placed the four cups in the center of the table, then carefully poured steaming tea into each.

Song Mo looked closely—it was truly wondrous.

Within each cup, as the tea was poured, a tiny dragon could be seen frolicking and swimming in the liquid.

After a few moments, the tea returned to normal.

“Please, enjoy!” the magician smiled.

Song Mo, Xia Yu, and the girl watched with growing curiosity as the magician drank his own tea.

“Amazing! How did you do that?” the girl whispered excitedly.

The young magician glanced shyly at her and hesitated before speaking, “It’s really quite simple, just—”

“Gaoming, where are you?” an angry voice interrupted.

They all looked up to see a gloomy man at the door, about fifty years old, ordinary-looking except for his left hand, half missing—his forearm gone, the empty sleeve tied with hemp rope.

“Master, I’m here,” Gaoming replied, then without another word, followed the man and left, ignoring Song Mo and the others.

The girl looked disappointed—not because she minded Gaoming’s departure, but because he hadn’t revealed the secret of his trick.

At that moment, Xia Yu smiled mysteriously and lowered her voice, “They’re just two simple tricks. I know how they work.”