Fiction: Group 4
The Teahouse by the River
St. Margaret's Co-Educational English Secondary and Primary School
(Secondary Section), Temang, Tenshi - 17, Fiction: Group 4
he smell of sun dried fish, shells and wet moss engulfed me as I exited my cabin. The scene was akin
to the Chinese painting my husband had brought back from his first visit. I believe it was from the
neighbouring island of Hong Kong. He spoke quite fondly of that place although I never quite
understood why. I made my way down the stairs of the ship, successfully getting shoved twice and nearly
tripping over a toddler. Cruises were are joy and I’ve always loved the ocean but the gruelling hours on-
board with one too many people was something else. The crowd gradually began to thin out and now you
couldn’t tell the passengers from the locals except for their clothing choice of course, or more specifically
their shoes.
“Pretty lady!” I turned towards the speaker, unsure whether he was talking to me or not. The people
around here tend to do that quite often, yet surprisingly they seem to know just when they are being called.
Instinctively realizing when “Pretty lady” was being directed at them or to the other “Pretty lady” in that
vicinity.
Realizing my attention was on him, he quickly swiped out a card from his breast pocket and thrust it into
my hand. “Owner of the Blue Jade Teahouse, the finest service and food you can find in the Pearl River
Delta, complete with resting room and bath house.” Gesturing to a grand-looking three-story building.
“Please follow me, madam. Your husband tell me a lot about your lives in England. I say, your tea drinking
tradition is most wonderful, just like what w…”
The rest of it was drowned out by the bustling of the noise of the people bargaining for fish and the goods
from England that had been shipped here a week before. Sadly from the reports, a number of the glass goods
had been damaged. I frowned, I’ll have to talk to David about it. I caught a glimpse of some silk carpets and
I made a note of them. Third stall from the rickshaw circle. Hopefully, they have patterns that included
dragons. After all, I was born in the year of the dragon (
1940, 1952, 1964, 1976,
) according to the Chinese
calendar. I guess those mythological aspects of the Chinese culture were somewhat interesting and
entertaining. At least a bit more so than stories about haunted Victorian dolls and rundown churches and
demons. Never liked spooky tales that relate to the darker side of religion. Didn’t sit quite well with me,
especially not when you actually have faith. I fanned myself, becoming more conscious of the humidity that
made my dress stick closer to my body and my coiffure go limp. I sighed. Why did I even bother?
The man turned back. “And you madam?” his accent made the question seem more like a statement and
dear lord, I hadn’t been listening at all.
“Which tea do you like?” he continued. I smiled in relief. Don’t want to seem rude now do we?
“I quite like Darjeeling” Not wanting to stall any longer. “But I also like the blooming tea, its beautiful both
in taste and appearance. But I never did grasp how those dried balls of magic were made. Perhaps you could
enlighten me?”
He takes a moment to process what I had asked him a slowly smiles a secretive smile. “That, madam, is a
Yunnan speciality and they have a special way of sewing the tealeaves and flowers.”
“That’s interesting.” Even though the answer was vague and uninformative.
We stopped at the front stairs of the teahouse. It looked grander and bigger than from afar. The vivid red
pillars supporting the balcony above was elegantly symmetrical along with the latticework that filtered
anything that could’ve been seen had it been a normal window. Little rays of light escaped through the
carvings. Looking closer, I began to see the low tables and the customers and workers mingling about.
“Welcome to my humble teahouse, madam” I could hear his pride as two girls clad in a ‘Cheongsam’
embroidered with flowers of green, gold and red, held the door open for us, bowing and eyes averted ever
so slightly. They didn’t see the smile I tried to direct at them. Well then.
The gateway like doors were open wide, yet its size seemed small when compared to the interior it lead to.
Most tables were taken, predominantly by traders, travellers and foreigners like myself, few were taken by
families or couples and one only one table would be occupied by a sole diner. Yes, unfortunately, that sole
diner would be me. My zealous host left with my luggage to prepare my room as soon as he sat me down at
a table that was meant to accommodate single customers. There was a single flower at the small table’s
T
