Propagation 58

He named the fine wine. Zhu Ying was in high spirits and immediately decided to keep Luan Yi for dinner at his house.

At the table, Zhu Ying savored the Immortal Brew, praising it endlessly—not merely because he had named it himself, nor simply for its delightful taste, but for reasons unknown, he could not stop extolling its virtues, gulping it down in large swallows.

Luan Yi quickly tried to restrain him, warning that the Immortal Brew was much stronger than ordinary wine and that such reckless drinking would easily lead to drunkenness.

Zhu Ying shook his woozy head, acknowledging the potency of the liquor. He prided himself on being able to handle two jin of old wine, but after just five sips of the Immortal Brew, he was already feeling dizzy. “Ha! The Immortal Brew truly packs a punch. Tell me, nephew, how much do you intend to sell it for?”

“Uncle Zhu, to mention money here would be too formal. If you ever wish to drink, just come to me anytime.”

Zhu Ying saw that Luan Yi had misunderstood, so he clarified, “Of course I wouldn’t stand on ceremony with you. I’m merely asking how much you plan to charge others?”

“Oh!” Luan Yi put down his chopsticks, his demeanor serious. “Fifty taels of silver.”

“Fifty taels per jar?” Zhu Ying was astonished. Fifty taels could buy a cartload of grain. While still in shock, he saw Luan Yi shake his head. “No! Fifty taels of silver per jin.”

“What? That expensive?” Zhu Ying also set down his chopsticks, perplexed. “Who would buy something so costly?”

Luan Yi smiled. “There are many in this world who buy only the expensive, not the right—their identity demands it. So, many things only sell because they are costly. Just like the Immortal Brew.”

“Only buy the expensive, not the right? Ha… You’ve hit the nail on the head, nephew. I am exactly that sort.”

Luan Yi rolled his eyes, thinking, “When did you ever buy anything? Everything you wear and use is gifted by others. Even if it’s purchased, it’s someone else buying it for you!” But outwardly, he remained humble, saying, “Not at all, Uncle. Just a bit of cleverness.”

“Nephew, you possess great wisdom. I heard today’s opening ceremony was lively, you managed it with flair, and the whole county was abuzz.”

Zhu Ying’s tone was steady, but Luan Yi knew well that he was about to get to the main point.

“Not at all! It was thanks to the support of the community.”

“I heard you distributed books for free at the ceremony, hosted a banquet for everyone gratis, and intend to offer free medical treatment to the people. Is that true?”

“Yes!” Luan Yi nodded.

Zhu Ying’s brows furrowed as he sternly asked, “Hm? Didn’t you tell me before you’d use the temple to make a profit? Was that a deception? With such generosity, how will you earn any money?”

Luan Yi smiled gently and explained, “The ancients said: ‘If you wish to take, you must first give.’ I act thus to attract people to the church. It is, as the saying goes, ‘casting a long line to catch a big fish.’ Once they truly believe in the Holy Mother’s teachings, I won’t have to urge them—they’ll willingly bring their money and grain to the church. Do you understand, Uncle?”

“Oh? ‘If you wish to take, you must first give.’” Zhu Ying raised his brows and pondered. He realized Luan Yi’s logic was sound. It was like Luan Yi himself—during festivals, he gave Zhu Ying gifts, but not without purpose. Gifts aren’t given or received for nothing. When someone gives you something, you feel obliged to help them earn more in return, seeking greater rewards. That must be what he meant by ‘casting a long line to catch a big fish.’ “So that’s how it is!” Zhu Ying was suddenly enlightened.

“By the way, one more thing. I’ve thought it over and feel it’s too exhausting for you to manage both business and church affairs. To avoid disrupting your studies, I suggest you reduce the scope of the Holy Maiden Church’s activities, keeping it only within Licheng County. That way, you’ll be spared much travel and can devote more time to your books.” Zhu Ying squinted, observing Luan Yi’s calm expression, and continued, “Of course, this is merely a personal suggestion, not an order.”

Luan Yi thought to himself: “Not an order? If I defy you, I’ll likely be forbidden to preach even in Licheng tomorrow.” Though frustrated, he knew it was not the moment to confront Zhu Ying, nor did he have the power to do so. He could only feign gratitude, replying, “Thank you, Uncle Zhu, for your concern. Actually, I was already planning to confine my preaching to the villages and towns under Licheng County, and not venture into other counties. Truthfully, I lack the energy to manage anything beyond Licheng anyway.”

“That’s good! That’s good!” Zhu Ying hadn’t expected such a straightforward response. Suddenly getting exactly what he wanted, he felt a burden lifted, and was greatly relieved, “Nephew, come. For the sake of your studies, let us empty this cup together!”

Luan Yi was alarmed and quickly protested, “Uncle, the Immortal Brew mustn’t be drunk so recklessly.” But his warning came a moment too late. Zhu Ying downed over four taels of the 60-proof distilled liquor in a single gulp.

The liquor entered his belly, and his face instantly flushed. His gaze grew vacant, and he staggered, collapsing to the floor.

Luan Yi was terrified and shouted, “Someone! Someone—quick, fetch a doctor!”

That night, chaos reigned in the courtyard of Zhu Ying’s family residence at the Jinan Prince’s Mansion, lasting until well past midnight. After examining Zhu Ying, the physician assured everyone there was no serious danger—he had simply drunk too much, and would recover after some rest.

Only then did the household relax.

September sixteenth, Monday, the opening ceremony was now past. Luan Yi temporarily set aside church affairs and focused his attention on the launch of the Immortal Brew. Reputation and name, over the past three years, Luan Yi had led the fashion trends of the Han Empire. Whether it was furniture, folding fans, or the attire of characters in his novels, he was always the object of imitation, especially among young men and women. Now, with the advent of the Immortal Brew, it was his duty to be its spokesman. For days, he lingered in taverns, personally drinking the Immortal Brew to attract customers and build its renown.

To escalate the publicity, he even copied the poem “Song of the Wine” by the Poet Immortal, Li Bai, set it to music, and sang it himself at the Rising Phoenix Pavilion:

“Do you not see the waters of the Yellow River come from the sky,
Rushing to the sea, never to return?
Do you not see, in the high hall, the bright mirror mourns white hair,
Morning black as silk, evening turns to snow.
When life is at its peak, enjoy it to the fullest,
Do not let the golden goblet face the moon empty.
Heaven gave me talent, it will be put to use,
A thousand gold pieces spent, they will return again.
Slaughter sheep and oxen for pleasure,
Let us drink three hundred cups in one sitting.
Master Cen, Lord D, let us drink, let the cups not cease.
Sing a song for you, please listen closely.
Bells and drums, jade platters are not worth cherishing,
Only wish to stay drunk, never to awaken.
Since ancient times, sages have been lonely,
Only drinkers leave their names behind.
Prince Chen once feasted at Ping Le,
A gallon of wine, ten thousand coins, indulging in revelry.
Why must the host speak of lacking funds?
Just sell your treasures and fill the cup for your guest.
Fine horses, fur robes worth a thousand gold,
Call the servant to exchange them for fine wine,
Together we shall dissolve the ancient sorrow.”

(Master Cen refers to Luan Yi’s mentor at Yingchuan Academy; Lord D is a pseudonym for Mao Jie.)

Once the song was sung, all of Jinan was abuzz. In the city and its alleys, countless people praised, “What a line—‘In the high hall, the bright mirror mourns white hair, morning black as silk, evening turns to snow. When life is at its peak, enjoy it to the fullest, do not let the golden goblet face the moon empty. Heaven gave me talent, it will be put to use, a thousand gold pieces spent, they will return again.’” “What a line—‘Fine horses, fur robes worth a thousand gold, call the servant to exchange them for fine wine, together we shall dissolve the ancient sorrow.’”

“Well said, very well said! Let us drink a full cup!”

Within just two days, the Immortal Brew was propelled to popularity in Guoli County, Jinan, thanks to one man—Luan Yi; one song—“Song of the Wine”; two flavors—rich and mellow. It soon swept through Jinan, and eventually was exported to Yanzhou, Qingzhou, Jizhou, Yuzhou, and other provinces of the Han Empire.

But that is a story for another time! While Luan Yi temporarily set aside church affairs, the church’s acolytes were far from idle. They were divided into three groups, sent out to conduct various activities.

At the opening ceremony yesterday, the acolytes had quietly memorized the personal information of the attendees in their respective groups. Most were wealthy individuals who could afford to patronize Luan’s family businesses, and were thus the primary targets for the Holy Mother Church’s development. The first group, called the aristocrat route, led by Xiao Wu, was tasked with proselytizing among them. Over the next five days, this group would visit these people, preach scripture, explain the Holy Mother’s teachings, and persuade them to attend the next service. If anyone expressed reluctance to attend, the acolytes would take turns visiting, repeatedly calling until the person could no longer refuse, and finally agreed to participate.

The second group took the high-level route. To avoid Zhu Ying and Sun Ru discovering his efforts to befriend officials, Luan Yi deployed a “pillow talk” strategy. He formed a group primarily of women, led by his mother Luan Diao herself, assisted by Xiao Cui and Ying Lian. Their mission was to win over the wives and families of Jinan’s officials and military leaders, recruiting them into the church. The hope was that, should conflict ever arise with Zhu Ying and others, these women would lend their support, or at least provide valuable inside information.

The third group followed the mass route. This was the busiest team, and had the largest personnel—over sixty members. The leader was Luan Fu himself, with Xiao Bai, a former comic performer, and Wang Bo, a musician, as his deputies. They scattered their members across all villages and towns in Licheng County, going deep among the common people, distributing copies of the Holy Mother Scripture, telling the story of the Holy Mother’s creation and her teachings, and explaining how to reach heaven and avoid hell.

At first, the farmers in the villages were wary of these acolytes in pure white robes, their chests embroidered with blood-red scholar’s emblems. They feared that, like the evil cults of sorcery, these visitors would strip them of their property. But as time passed, they discovered that these white-robed acolytes were unlike the sorcerers. The former were humble and compassionate, the latter rude and malicious—the difference was stark.

The acolytes of the Holy Mother Church, upon entering a village, did not seek out the village chief or landlords, but instead visited households, inquiring about the impoverished families, and recorded their situations in notebooks.

The next day, they would return with a large cart, heading straight for the poorest homes, unloading sacks of vegetables and grain into their yards, and presenting each family member with new seasonal clothing. Though the brown new clothes were also embroidered with the same awkward red cross as the acolytes, for the poor who struggled for food, any clothing to cover themselves was a blessing—let alone brand new garments freely given. Thus, the recipients were deeply grateful, kneeling and bowing repeatedly.

With tears of emotion, the acolytes would respectfully help the family up, saying, “Do not thank me—thank the merciful Holy Mother.” They would also promise that when winter came, the church would send new cotton clothes again.