opens onto a sun-splashed garden. Between tea and the sun there is a kinship.
Yang Kuei-fei chanted an appropriate verse:
"The River of Fragrant Tea Fields
Winds gently through a yellow country, calm and still.
The River, too, is yellow
And the sun, a yellow lantern,
Gently glows.
The color of tea is in
The fields and river,
And the sun,
Gives color to the tea."
She lifted her cup and breathed deeply of the subtle aroma.
"Tea is the liquor that makes all men brothers; by it the world will be purged of sin. Men who drink tea have little need for war."
"I would be a traitor to my calling," mused An Lu-shan, "if I agreed with you in that. A general needs victorious wars in order to build up his reputation. Perhaps too much tea is an antidote and a commander might do well to see that his men partake of it sparingly."
"Drugged wine," she said with a hint of sarcasm, "blots out men's better judgment. That should be the drink of mighty warriors."
"Though your wisdom is mingled with malice, I do not dispute it. Men who stop to think, seldom fight
You have given me an idea, and I am grateful. But when
