"...and one year later, in 1776, the Declaration of Independence was adopted, officially beginning the revolution of the British colonies in America against the British crown."
"Very good, Prince Yiwei. That was quite accurate. Can you recall which American writer's pamphlets were widely considered as a major destabilizing factor for British influence in the region?"
"Was that not... Thomas Paine?"
"That was." The elderly man smiled, stroking his long white beard and chuckling lightly. "I must say you are the first pupil I have had to take such an interest in the history of the west."
"It is only because of what you say, Master," responded Prince Yiwei, sitting opposite his mentor across a Japanese-style tea-set.
"Ah, that it is important to draw wisdom from all over the world?" the master chuckled again, "I think this tea set speaks testament to that."
The Prince remained silent as he began the tea-pouring ceremony, treating the ladle and the cups with infinite care as he poured tea for his master. Tea was considered an art in the country of Japan - something to be honored and respected, an ancient ceremony used in times of peace and war for diplomacy and understanding. Many a time did warlords of a bygone age come together for tea served by a revered tea master, whose knowledge and wisdom was respected unilaterally. For the Japanese, tea was the antithesis of all barbarism - a divine expression of the Japanese culture and its careful resilience. As beautiful and tender as a cherry blossom, yet as strong as the tree that bears them.
Master had many times been outside the palatial estates usually reserved for nobility such as himself, yet he was close to the old Jiaqing Emperor, once a harsh man who became mellowed by age. As a new emperor, Jiaqing believed strongly in China’s immutability, and led a crusade against the smuggling of opium into China. But as he grew fat and old, he began to listen more and more to what Master had to say. When he died, however, so too did his ideals, and the successor, the Daoguang Emperor, was no fan of Master’s words.
“It is almost absurd to believe that China could ever suffer such pain from without,” Daoguang had said venomously, ten years prior, “All times in the past, invaders have succumbed ultimately to our undying culture. Even the Mongols could not resist us, in the end. We are like a rock, and the rest of the world a river, forced ever around us and unable to ever move us.”
“But the river yet moves down the stream of life and finds more fertile grounds to sow,” said a tight-lipped Master.
“And what ground is more fertile than that which sustains us today? A moving body will not be satisfied for long - China has, since time immemorial, gorged itself on a spiritual feast afforded us by our supremacy,” Daoguang retorted smugly.
“And yet even the mightiest rock is ultimately worn down by a trickle of water.”
“China is no mere boulder!” Daoguang shouted furiously, “And, if you do not agree, maybe you do not have a place in this court. I do not care that you were Jiaqing’s favorite, if you think yourself so wise, maybe you should tutor my son, and allow us to handle the affairs of running this country.”
And now Master observed the young Prince Yiwei, only 19, pouring tea like a Japanese. The future, Master thought with some consolation, lies with the young.
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