Chapter Forty-Four: A Different Kind of Spirits

As Song Yi announced the grand opening of Drunken Immortal Tavern, many curiosity-seekers, each harboring their own thoughts, stepped inside. Zhen Qian also rose to his feet, tossed a handful of copper coins on the table, and, together with Wang You and Qin Meng, melted into the crowd.

Catching sight of the trio in the throng, Song Yi let his gaze linger for only a moment before he resumed welcoming the guests.

Once inside the first floor, Zhen Qian and his companions found a quiet corner to settle in. A waiter approached, his expression unchanged as he said, “Gentlemen, what would you like to eat? Please have a look at the menu first.” With that, he handed over a wooden board, upon which thirty or so dishes were listed in bold ink on white paper. Zhen Qian pretended to study it before remarking, “I heard there are complimentary snacks? Bring us some of those…”

“Right away, sirs! Please wait a moment!” The waiter turned to tend to other patrons.

Zhen Qian’s gaze swept the room, noticing that most patrons, like themselves, requested the free snacks. Unfortunately, the quantity was limited, and several guests immediately began to complain, demanding more.

The waiter promptly pointed to a notice posted on the wall and calmly explained, “Sirs, you may not be aware, but today our snacks are indeed complimentary, though the supply is limited. If we give them all to you, the other guests would not have a chance to try them. Thus, we can only provide one serving of four-color snacks per table. If you enjoy them and order other dishes, we’ll gladly add another complimentary serving.”

Most guests were reasonable, accepting this explanation. After all, business was business—the proprietors couldn’t be expected to run at a loss. A complimentary serving was generous enough; to demand more would be unreasonable.

But not everyone saw it that way. Some clearly intended to make a scene. One slammed the table, drawing the attention of the entire tavern. “What did you say? Is this how you treat your customers? Everyone, judge for yourselves—this establishment promised free snacks and then immediately went back on their word!”

Those who enjoyed watching trouble unfold had no qualms about joining in. “Exactly! It’s just a complimentary snack, and they’re being stingy already!”

Zhen Qian glanced toward the commotion and saw three loafers had already grabbed the waiter by the collar, ready to start a fight at the slightest provocation.

Qin Meng rolled up his sleeves, preparing to charge in. “Godfather, these men look like they’re here to cause trouble. Shall I deal with them?”

Annoyed, Zhen Qian smacked Qin Meng on the head. “If you go over to start a fight, this tavern will truly become lively. Don’t you know how to handle things differently?”

Wang You seized the opportunity to lecture Qin Meng. Over the past few days, if not for Zhen Qian keeping the peace, the two would have come to blows. “All you ever think about is brawling—you’re a disgrace to scholars everywhere. What, not convinced? Want to try fighting me again?”

Though Qin Meng was clever in his own right, when it came to arguing, even three of him couldn’t best Wang You. “Who are you calling brainless? Say it again if you dare!”

“Enough! Both of you, be quiet. Is that Liang the Constable coming in?”

Having accepted favors, one must return them. Ever since Liang, the constable, learned that the Zhen family backed this establishment, he visited more frequently. Today, with Drunken Immortal Tavern opening, he naturally arrived with several assistants to support the event.

“Stop right there! Black Dog, are you looking to cause trouble on my turf today? It’s been a long time since anyone tried the thirty-pound cangue at the county office—care to sample it?”

The loafer Liang addressed as Black Dog immediately changed his tune upon seeing Liang enter. “Ah, it’s Master Liang! I didn’t recognize you. We’re all part of the same family here, just came for some fun and a free bite. If you don’t like it, we’ll be on our way.”

Liang pressed on. “Listen up, all of you. If you set foot in this tavern again, you’d better watch your legs!”

Seeing Liang’s overbearing demeanor, the others, who had been thinking of joining the ruckus, quickly shrank back, burying their heads in their snacks as if the earlier commotion had nothing to do with them.

Song Yi stepped out from behind the counter and invited Liang to sit. Liang’s eyes swept the room, landing on Zhen Qian. He quickly had his men sit elsewhere and hurried over to Zhen Qian, his tone suddenly deferential. “Young Master Zhen, I didn’t see you earlier…”

Zhen Qian, seeing Liang standing before him, whispered, “There are so many people here—let’s sit and talk.”

“Yes, yes! I nearly ruined your business,” Liang replied, perching nervously on the edge of his seat like a bashful daughter-in-law before her mother-in-law.

Am I really that intimidating? Zhen Qian couldn’t help but laugh inwardly at his own borrowed authority. The feeling was not unpleasant, but what he truly desired was to reach such heights without relying on family connections.

“Liang, keep an eye on Drunken Immortal Tavern for me. Seems there are quite a few people with backgrounds here today—perhaps they’re here to gather information?”

Liang’s sharp eyes quickly picked out several unfamiliar faces. “Some are staff from nearby taverns, one even a manager. They likely mean no good.”

“It doesn’t matter as long as they don’t cause trouble. In business, rivals are inevitable; you can’t expect goodwill from everyone.”

“True. They’re probably just here to look around—no need to worry.” With that, Liang saluted Zhen Qian and returned to his table, ordering some snacks while discreetly observing the surroundings.

As Zhen Qian’s gaze drifted to the entrance, the doorway suddenly darkened. Several burly soldiers blocked it completely, shouting, “Innkeeper! Bring out some fine wine and your best dishes! I’m hosting my comrades tonight!”

The waiter hurried over, beaming. “Would you like to sit downstairs or in a private room upstairs?”

The officer in charge, his eyes fierce and beard bristling like steel needles, scowled and shoved the waiter aside. “Forget your fancy private rooms—we’ll eat downstairs and leave when we’re done!”

The waiter complied, hastily offering the menu, but the soldier, glancing at it only briefly, smacked it onto the waiter’s head. “I can’t read, you fool! Why show me this? Just bring the food and wine!”

Zhen Qian felt awkward. He’d forgotten that literacy was low in the Tang dynasty; his carefully prepared menu was wasted on most patrons. No wonder some stared at the menu with such bemused expressions—he hadn’t considered this.

The waiter withdrew, whispering with Song Yi. Though Zhen Qian hadn’t anticipated this, Song Yi’s experience running a small restaurant for over a decade quickly came into play. He sent out several meat-laden dishes—no vegetables in sight—prompting the soldiers to beam with delight as they drank and feasted noisily.

Just then, several more entered the tavern—tall, broad-shouldered men with aquiline noses, brown eyes, and curly hair. Their speech was thick with a foreign accent. “Innkeeper! A private room, three jars of your finest wine, and several platters of your best appetizers!”

The waiter, pleased, led the three foreigners upstairs, returning with a few extra coppers in his hand.

As the crowd’s attention returned from the foreigners, a middle-aged man in a gray robe at a nearby table slammed his cup down and sneered, “Is this the wine you’re selling? Has it been watered down? Didn’t they say your spirits are fiery? I find it overrated!”

His companions echoed his mockery. “So much for your so-called knockout wine! More like a letdown!”

Song Yi hurried over, smiling warmly. “Gentlemen, there’s been a misunderstanding. What you just drank was not our Drunken Immortal Spirits. Our spirits come in three grades—low, medium, and high. The low grade is the strongest and cheapest; the high grade is the mildest and most expensive. Would you care to try a pot?”

Learning that they’d only had ordinary wine so far, the man’s face fell somewhat—clearly, he’d failed to do his homework before coming. “Two pots of your best Drunken Immortal Spirits, then! I want to see if your reputation is deserved.”

His companions exchanged glances, while mocking remarks drifted from nearby tables. “No wonder you were so bold—turns out you haven’t even tasted the real thing.”

The waiter promptly brought over four pots of the most expensive spirits, announcing, “Two pots of top grade Drunken Immortal Spirits—buy one, get one free. Please enjoy, but beware the strength! We’ve also prepared hangover soup for you.”

Wasn’t that a veiled insult?

In the Tang dynasty, a dou of wine was equivalent to about three or four modern jin—roughly three bottles of beer. But that referred to the weak wines of the time. Here, wine was sold by the pot, each about one and a half jin—smaller in quantity but much stronger. It was not something an ordinary person could drink down casually.

But the middle-aged man seemed unaware. Finding the pot’s volume and the cups small, he thought to make a scene, but then noticed that his companion, after a single sip, turned pale and exclaimed, “That’s strong!”

The man himself dared not boast further. He filled his cup, and as the potent aroma hit his nostrils, his brow furrowed. Sensing many eyes on him, waiting for him to make a fool of himself, he steeled himself and tossed back the cup. Instantly, his face burned as if on fire. “Spicy…!”

“Elder Brother, those must be the tavern managers Constable Liang mentioned.”

PS: How much was a dou in the Tang dynasty? Research shows it varied, but for wine, a dou was about five or six jin.