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Sage Qingwei sat in the seat usually reserved for the Chief Abbot at Jinsho-ji, with Yagyu Sosei to his left and Aobozu to his right.
Though kneeling was an ancient tradition in the Central Plains, most people were no longer accustomed to it since the advent of chairs. Sage Qingwei simply sat cross-legged in a meditative posture.
Yagyu Sosei knelt in a formal seiza position, upright and solemn, ready to draw his sword at any moment.
Due to his broad, flat feet, Aobozu could only sit with his legs splayed out in a casual posture, softly chanting scriptures in the Wa language.
Sage Qingwei’s secretary, Shen Yuqing, brought in three cups of hot tea.
“This is green tea I brought from the Central Plains. Please, have a taste,” Sage Qingwei said, gesturing invitingly.
Yagyu Sosei picked up his cup, took a sip, and after savoring it for a moment, said, “This is…freshly picked tea?”
Sage Qingwei nodded. “This year’s first batch of Mingqian tea, picked just as the buds emerged overnight.”
Mingqian tea referred to fresh tea leaves picked before the Qingming Festival....
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