Chapter 902 – The Flower-Viewing Party
Zhou Dongtian conceded that the reasoning was decent enough, but it was ultimately useless to them. Deduction required a foundation of rich data, and they knew virtually nothing about Hangzhou's local personages. Hundreds—or thousands—of people might fit Zhao Yingong's profile. Scholars gave themselves zi and hao—style names and literary sobriquets—as casually as eating cabbage. A single person might have three or four, or even a dozen. Who knew who this "Foolish One of Longmian" might be?
Xu Ke suddenly said, "Could it belong to Zhang Dai, the one who just passed by?"
From the personal characteristics Zhao Yingong had deduced, Zhang Dai did fit fairly well. But Zhao Yingong dismissed his guess. He'd read Dream Memories of Tao'an and remembered that Zhang Dai's courtesy name was "Zongzi," and his sobriquets included Tao'an, Tiansun, Die'an Jushi, and so on—but not "Foolish One of Longmian."
"Let's go back and look through a copy of Jinshen," Zhao Yingong said with a sigh. "We know far too little about the basic conditions of the Ming. We're just scratching the surface."
Zhou Dongtian gave a cold laugh. "What's the point of knowing so much? Once the cannons sweep the land clean, it'll all be sorted. Why bother with all this fuss?"
The group continued watching from the observation deck for a while. Once the novelty wore off, they returned to the cabin. Mei Lin had relaxed considerably and was now engaged in an animated discussion with Meiyan'er about the Buddhist statues at the "Three Tianzhu Temples"—probably bits and pieces he'd picked up in an elective course back in his student days. Meiyan'er not only listened attentively but occasionally offered a comment of her own. Zhao Yingong was secretly impressed: the high-class courtesans of this timeline really did have skill. No wonder Yu Eshui had mentioned in a training class that wealthy Ming people frequented the pleasure houses primarily for "social life."
It was nearly noon. Meiniang had brought her maids in with trays, setting out the table while asking what wine the honored guests would like.
"I have some wine here that's hard to come by—I had to pull strings to get it. Would the gentlemen like to try?"
Zhao Yingong saw that four exquisite appetizer dishes had already been laid out. He smiled. "Oh? What wine is so rare that it's hard to obtain even here in Jiangnan, the finest region under heaven?"
"It comes from Guangdong. They say it's a fine foreign-made wine," said Meiniang. "Never mind the quality of the wine itself—just the bottle it comes in is priceless! These days, unless you're a powerful official, it's hard to get your hands on it..."
By this point, Zhao Yingong understood: it must be the "private wine" brewed by Guo Yi. To think a courtesan on West Lake could get her hands on Guoshi Wushuang! Even in Guangzhou, this wine was extremely difficult to obtain. Guo Yi was running a "hunger marketing" strategy, targeting the high-end gift market with limited production. After the Guangzhou station's distillery was destroyed last year, production had only just resumed, and output was even lower now.
He said at once, "Guoshi Wushuang is too strong. In this hot weather, a lighter Shaoxing wine would be better."
Meiniang smiled. "Very well. I still have a jar of excellent Lanling wine here, aged ten years. I'll open it for the gentlemen." She then modestly apologized for the simplicity of the boat's galley and the lack of fine dishes, handling everything with smooth diplomacy.
Eight exquisite cold dishes were brought out as accompaniments—four meat, four vegetable. Snow-white lotus root stuffed with glutinous rice; bright red Jinhua ham; golden chicken floss; crimson watermelon cake... A feast for the eyes.
The wine was warmed and served. They drank and played drinking games while Meiyan'er sang a few songs. Her words were elegantly literary and tinged with a southern accent; no one but Zhao Yingong could quite make them out. They only felt the melodies were pleasant and offered vague praise.
Zhang Dai's boat was at that moment on the lake surface, less than two hundred meters away. After Wu Zhixiang arrived in Hangzhou and learned that Zhang Dai held considerable influence within the Restoration Society—and that he loved excitement, enjoyed exotic novelties, and had a strong interest in new things—he'd changed his original plans. He would first focus on cultivating Zhang Dai right here in Hangzhou.
Fortunately, Zhang Dai was not a cold and aloof literatus. In his daily dealings, he was quite uninhibited and enjoyed making friends. With little effort, Wu Zhixiang obtained an introduction through an acquaintance and presented eight pots of Dutch tulips that he'd brought all the way from Guangzhou. These rare "foreign flowers" suited Zhang Dai's tastes perfectly. Seeing that the visitor called frequently and treated him with great respect, and finding Wu Zhixiang's conversation refined and full of fascinating anecdotes about Guangdong—especially the recent vogue for "Australian goods"—Zhang Dai gradually warmed to his new friend. Before long, the two had become quite familiar.
At that moment, Wu Zhixiang, Zhang Dai, and several friends were relaxing on the upper deck of the tower-boat. The eight pots of tulips that had crossed the ocean were arranged in two rows before the steps. Their brilliant blooms basked in the mild early-summer sunshine, unfurling their multicolored petals. Gusts of fragrance drifted up on the warm breeze. The friends had already admired and praised the flowers at length; every one of them marveled at the striking colors of these exotic blossoms. They critiqued and commented—for today's outing on the tower-boat wasn't for the scenery of West Lake or the dragon boat races, but specifically for a "flower-viewing party." They had even composed several poems. Now they sat chatting idly while continuing to drink and admire the flowers.
By this time, a banquet prepared by Master Zhang's household chef was half-consumed. Maids and servants were clearing the dishes and setting out fresh wine and fruit.
"Beautiful, certainly, but perhaps too gaudily colorful," said one scholar, already half-drunk, commenting on the tulips before them. "Bright reds and yellows, dazzlingly vivid, each standing alone on a single stem. The style is too vulgar—lacking that air of pure, understated elegance..."
Zhang Dai disagreed. "By that reasoning, wouldn't peonies and herbaceous peonies also be considered vulgar?"
He was an elegantly dressed scholar with an intelligent and friendly face, his chin sporting a neatly groomed three-strand mustache.
"Though peonies are brilliant, their brilliance is forthright and dignified, without any seductive air..." This fellow continued holding forth on his self-invented classifications of "gaudy beauty," "refined beauty," "righteous beauty," and "seductive beauty."
"I think your views are rather biased," said the speaker, Sun Chun. He was an unremarkable-looking ordinary scholar—though unremarkable, he was actually a core member of the Restoration Society.
"That's quite wrong—"
The two began to debate. A look of boredom had already crossed Zhang Dai's face. He plucked a vividly red cherry from a large Xuan porcelain bowl by his side and, with a languid, elegant gesture, picked off the green stem and popped it into his mouth. Seeing that Wu Zhixiang also wore a helpless expression, he couldn't help but smile.
In the end, as usual, Zhang Dai stepped in to smooth things over, saying that all fresh flowers had their own merits and admirers could each have their preferences—there was really no way to rank them. Only then did the argument subside. After that, the topic shifted from the tulips to "foreign goods."
"Speaking of these Western novelties," Zhang Dai said with a laugh, "though they're neither gold nor jade, they certainly have a way of captivating people. A few days ago, Mizhi lost a telescope on this lake. He sent people down to search but couldn't find it. He was so vexed he didn't even want to stay in Hangzhou anymore—just set off for Nanjing yesterday."
"What's so special about a telescope? Just go to the Catholic church and get one," said the scholar who'd been critiquing the tulips. His name was Wen Huai, an augmented student from Jiaxing Prefecture.
"Telescopes aren't common treasures, but they're not exactly common either," said Zhang Dai. "I often visit the Catholic church, and I'm friendly with Johann Adam Schall von Bell. He says that even in Portugal, these are rare items—only brought over when a ship arrives. You can't just find one anywhere."
From telescopes, the conversation turned to the currently fashionable Australian goods. Wu Zhixiang had brought quite a bit of "Australian merchandise" from Guangzhou. They'd been talking frequently about the various novel Australian wares lately. For wealthy young men like Zhang Dai, ordinary Western goods were no longer remarkable. But the few "Australian goods" Wu Zhixiang had shown him had opened his eyes and sparked a strong interest in the Australians.
Wu Zhixiang then expounded at length on the origins of the "Australians," their lifestyle and pleasures, and their various exotic wares. The listeners were enraptured. Though they didn't entirely believe everything Wu Zhixiang said, they'd already encountered various Australian novelties, and so they were full of curiosity about this suddenly emerged "Australia."
"I must say, I truly yearn for those Australian flush toilets," Zhang Dai said with a laugh. "Long ago, someone outfitted a privy with brocade beds, beautiful maids, and burning agarwood incense—but it was still just a latrine. How could it compare to such cleanliness and comfort?"
"Only I've heard it's not easy to build," said Wu Zhixiang. "The Ziming Pavilion in Guangzhou had them. When Governor Wang was suppressing the transmigrators, I managed to get inside the Ziming Pavilion and specifically went to look at its arrangements—truly marvels of craftsmanship. Such ingenious designs and methods, really beyond anything we could match."
He went on to describe the plumbing and drainage pipes, the valves, the mechanical pumps for the water supply, and the water towers. Wu Zhixiang had been extremely curious about the various facilities at Ziming Pavilion and had previously pumped Pei Lixiu for information. After Ziming Pavilion was sealed, he'd bribed the guards and made a special trip inside to examine the entire building from top to bottom, inside and out. Now he spoke with authority.
Zhang Dai listened with interest and laughed. "Lucky Mizhi didn't hear all that, or he'd have been so intrigued he'd have set off for Guangzhou immediately to see these Western marvels for himself!" He shook his head. "If not for the hardship of travel, even I would like to see what these Australians have to offer."
"What's stopping you?" Wu Zhixiang was currently focused on cultivating Zhang Dai and immediately offered that if he wished to visit Guangzhou, he could stay at "my humble abode."
"...And as for the journey—now there's Qiwei Inn. Whether by sedan or boat, it's much more convenient than before."
Zhang Dai was about to reply when Wen Huai said, "These Australians claim to be descendants of the Central Kingdom, sprouts of the Great Song, yet they only value industry and commerce, producing nothing but clever contraptions. One and all, they're crude and unlettered—neither properly Chinese nor properly barbarian. I fear the ancestors of the Song must be weeping in their graves."