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Lin Yue sat quietly, still feeling the weight of the three elder men's gazes on her.
That was the first time anyone had ever said she looked like someone else.
She had no idea who they were referring to, but somehow, their words sent a ripple through her heart.
"You know…" Master Lu finally muttered, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "I hadn't thought of it before, but now that Old Chen mentioned it… they do look alike."
Lin Yue gave a tight-lipped smile, unsure of how to respond.
What did they mean she resemble someone?
She sat there quietly, her back straight and legs properly together, but her hands were gently clasped in her lap, the fingers unconsciously curling.
The way the three old men observed her made her feel like she was under some invisible spotlight.
Master Fu seemed to notice her discomfort first.
He gave a small cough and rubbed his nose awkwardly. "Ah, sorry about that. This old man has a habit of blurting things."
Master Chen shot him a sideways glare. "Who's old? You?"
"Hah, I was talking about myself, not you," Master Fu shot back quickly, but the glint in his eye suggested he'd said it on purpose.
"What did you say?"
"You heard me."
Before the harmless bickering could take flight, Master Lu clapped his hand loudly on the table, glaring at them. "Behave, you two. Yue girl is here. Do you want to lose your faces completely?"
Lin Yue blinked at them, amused despite her earlier discomfort.
These old men were certainly not what she had expected when she'd seen them for the first time.
The two men cleared their throats, suddenly behaving like scolded schoolboys.
They sat up straight, adopting expressions of dignity, though the energy in the room remained light and familial.
—
Master Chen shifted in his seat and gave her a small nod. "I was in the Zhongwen District recently, visiting an old friend. While I was there, I heard rumors—a new painter making waves… a young artist with a rare sense of soul in their work."
Lin Yue blinked, unsure where this was going.
He gave her a long, lingering look. "I thought it'd be overhyped. But I walked in and saw these paintings— vibrant, alive. As if the artist had painted with breath, not brushes."
Lin Yue's brows lifted slightly. She tilted her head. "The paintings?"
"You painted them, didn't you?" Master Chen asked.
Lin Yue paused before nodding lightly. "Yes."
Master Fu huffed. "Of course, they were. Otherwise, why would—"
He stopped when Master Chen's glare returned, followed by a scoff. "You couldn't wait, could you?"
Ignoring him, Master Chen turned back to her. "You're incredibly talented, Yue girl. The kind of talent you don't just learn — it comes from the soul. I couldn't help it. I bought three."
Lin Yue gave a soft, grateful smile. "Thank you, Master Chen."
Master Chen studied her again, his eyes lingering perhaps too long.
Suddenly, Master Lu nudged him hard with an elbow, causing him to startle.
"Ahem," Master Chen cleared his throat awkwardly.
The air tensed for a brief moment.
—
To cut the awkwardness, Master Fu began rising to call someone. "I'll ask one of the girls to prepare some tea. Can't have a visit without proper—"
"I'll do it," Lin Yue said suddenly.
The room stilled.
Master Lu raised his brow. Master Chen blinked. Even Master Fu, who had been halfway up, froze mid-motion.
"You'll... do it?" he repeated.
Lin Yue was already on her feet, brushing down her dress with grace. "Yes. Please allow me. I'll make tea."
They looked at each other hesitantly. They didn't stop her though.
—
The truth was—they all knew a little about Lin Yue's background.
An ordinary family, simple upbringing.
Not someone trained in formal tea ceremonies.
Even among the wealthiest daughters, only a few could truly master the poise and artistry required for ceremonial tea.
Yet... she had offered so confidently.
So they let her.
Lin Yue approached the tea table tucked beneath the wide window, where gentle morning light poured in like liquid gold.
Everything was already set — fine porcelain cups, a silver kettle, the tray of leaves hand-selected by the manor's steward.
She knelt.
That alone made all three men sit straighter.
Her posture was elegant — not the forced poise of someone mimicking tradition, but a quiet grace that came from discipline.
Her back was straight, her knees tucked neatly beneath her, and her arms moved like flowing ink — steady, intentional, measured.
Was this truly the same girl they had seen moments ago?
Lin Yue didn't rush.
She lifted the clay teapot gently, feeling the weight, checking the warmth of the water.
She moved with precision, rinsing the cups first with hot water to awaken the porcelain, swirling each before discarding the water into the waste bowl.
Her fingers held the tea scoop like a calligrapher, brushing just enough leaves into the pot. Her fingertips, though free of adornments, looked like they belonged to a dancer.
Pour.
Steam curled upward like dragon's breath, mingling with the scent of jasmine and mountain spring.
The three old men were utterly silent now.
Master Fu squinted, then leaned back slightly. "This... this doesn't look like someone winging it."
"That hand movement," Master Lu murmured. "The turning of the pot before pouring... it's traditional Cheng style. But she blends it with Yun elegance. Who taught her?"
No one answered. They just watched.
Lin Yue lifted the small serving cups and placed one in front of each of them.
Her every motion was fluid, not hurried, not stiff.
She stood again, graceful and light on her feet, then leaned slightly forward as she poured.
She did not sit. She remained standing to pour the tea — a posture most wouldn't dare.
It was too easy to spill, to appear improper.
But not with her.
Her sleeve fluttered slightly as she tipped the pot, the stream of tea pouring in a golden ribbon.
Pour.
Pause.
Pour again.
Each cup filled precisely to the same level — not too full to spill, not too shallow to offend.
She placed the pot down, stepped back, and gave a small, demure smile. "Please try it."
The scent alone was enough to stun them.
Floral, earthy, a hint of lingering warmth like a memory steeped in sun.
Each man reached slowly for his cup, eyes flickering not at the tea, but at her.
Lin Yue stood quietly, hands folded in front of her, like she'd just stepped out of a classical painting.
Master Chen brought the cup to his lips first. The others followed.
Sip.
They froze.
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