Lan Qiren watched through almost closed lids as A-Huan measured tea leaves into the pre-heated pot. His hand was steady and his pace unhurried, his whole demeanor calm and concentrated. He added hot water and stirred, then set the pot to rest and sat back to wait with his hands on his lap, back straight. At seven years old, A-Huan was well on his way to becoming a proper young master, a fact that made Lan Qiren feel a proper amount of pride. A-Huan and A-Zhan might not be his children by blood but they were his in every other way that mattered.
After an appropriate amount of time, A-Huan stirred the pot again and proceeded to pour tea. The pot was slightly on the heavy side for a seven-years-old but his arm barely trembled and the tea flowed soundlessly into the cup. He set the pot back on the holder and carefully moved the cup right in front of Lan Qiren.
”Shufu,” he said softly. ”Tea is ready.”
Lan Qiren opened his eyes. In some other situation, he might have felt bad for making A-Huan think he’d been meditating but he’d wanted to observe. And A-Huan hadn’t disappointed.
”Mn,” he said and reached out to pick up the cup.
The tea was pale and fragrant, the smell just on the proper side of refreshing. The taste was light and while it could’ve been steeped a moment longer for a deeper flavor, it wasn’t under-brewed.
”Very good, A-Huan,” he said with a nod and set his cup on the table for a refill.
A-Huan ducked his head slightly to hide the small pleased smile. He hurried to pour Lan Qiren another cup and remembered just in time to calm his movements to avoid spilling the tea or disturbing the pour so that it would make an unseemly sound.
Very good, indeed.