The Old Brocade City on the Wall

“Shopkeeper, your story stopped halfway. What happened after that?” “After that? That was eighteen hundred years later. Are you sure you want to hear it?” Ever since Wu Ling brewed the last packet of tea his grandfather had left him, the door in the corner had opened by itself. Beyond it were towering flames, a bronze sacred tree, and a golden mask. In Chengdu, three thousand years in the past, someone was still waiting for him to tell a story. … “Wu’s Teahouse on Jingxiang Lane is the finest teahouse in Shu. No one knows when it was founded or who built it. It has a hundred bamboo chairs, tea served in lidded bowls, and guests pay whatever they wish. The shopkeeper is skilled at storytelling, recounting ancient tales from the Qin and Han, the Three Kingdoms, the Tang and the Song. His details are so true they seem to be no fiction. Every day at dusk, one rap of the storyteller’s block silences the entire room, and the guests forget to go home as their tea grows cold.” Notes on Tea in Shu