Três Reinos: Liu Zhang da Temporada Han
Reencarnei como um dos tios imperiais no final da dinastia Han Oriental, mas não tenho grandes orelhas nem mãos que chegam aos joelhos, pois sou Liu Zhang, Liu Jiyu... Como tio do imperador da grande
Liu Zhang examined the lacquered double-handled cup set upon the table. Crafted with a wooden core, its interior was coated in red lacquer while the exterior gleamed with black; intricate patterns adorned the inside, the rim, and the twin handles of the vessel.
The quality of the lacquered cup was evidently fine, yet the myriad forms of cracks and the shifting textures upon its body silently spoke of its age. This was a well-worn relic, one that had passed through many hands. Only thus, with the high value of lacquerware, could it have ended up as a centerpiece in this roadside tavern, serving as a touch of dignity.
Within the cup was rustic rice wine, not especially clear, but rather somewhat cloudy.
He lifted the cup and took a light sip. The wine was not strong; its flavor was rather insipid.
Compared to the famed brews this body had once tasted—Zhongshan’s “Winter Brew,” Guanzhong’s “White Thin”—it fell far short. Even further, it paled beside the many liquors he had experienced in his former life, back in the twenty-first century.
The world was changed, the people and the drink alike. Liu Zhang did not linger over the taste but drained the cup in a single motion.
As the wine was finished, the base of the lacquered cup was revealed: a red-lacquered bottom painted with black swirling cloud patterns, and at the center, three characters: “Fortune’s Wine.”
“Fortune’s Wine.” Liu Zhang savored the phrase, inwardly marveling at the romantic flair of Han dynasty folk. Even a humble roadside inn, with a cup scavenged from the market,