Chapter Sixty: The Name of Baijiu

Wei Renshi held the wine jar, his gaze alight with a hint of provocation as he looked at the man before him.

What he thought to himself was: In stories, there’s the saying ‘three bowls and you can’t cross the ridge.’ Well then, I’ll make it ‘three bowls and you can’t enter the city.’

Drink three bowls of my fiery liquor, and you won’t make it through the gates of Luoyang.

The man, seeing Wei Renshi’s almost challenging expression and the jar already offered before him, found himself in a predicament—especially as a curious crowd had gathered to watch. If he refused to accept and taste the wine now, it would be seen as a loss of face, a sign of cowardice.

So he reached out, grabbed the jar, and laughed, “The wine smells wonderful! Today I’ll give it a try! If three bowls don’t make me drunk, I’ll take ten jars from you to quench my thirst on the road. But if I do get drunk, then your wine’s reputation is well deserved, and you mustn’t mock me!”

Wei Renshi laughed in response; this man was shrewd enough, having covered all the bases with his words.

He nodded and said, “This is a new brew, offered today for tasting, solely to make a name for myself. Brother, apart from our winemakers, you are the very first in the world to sample this fiery liquor. Please!”

The man laughed, lifted the jar, and poured himself a bowl.

As soon as the liquor was poured, he was taken aback. “Hey! This wine is as clear as water! I might as well have poured a bowl of water!”

As he spoke, he held the bowl up for the crowd to see.

The onlookers were equally astonished, never having seen wine so clear it resembled water.

“The aroma! It’s irresistible!” the man, clearly a lover of drink, could hardly contain himself after catching a whiff. Without further ado, he brought the bowl to his lips.

With one gulp, his expression changed dramatically; he lowered the bowl, and his features seemed to scrunch together, not regaining composure for a moment before he let out a long hiss of breath.

“Potent! Truly potent!” he exclaimed, delight flickering across his face. “It looks like clear water, yet the flavor is so intense! I’ve never tasted such strong liquor—swallowing it is like swallowing fire, but the fire is full of fragrance! Marvelous!”

With that, he quickly brought the bowl to his lips again and downed it in one go.

Wei Renshi chuckled to himself; drinking so hastily was surely the fastest way to get drunk.

Sure enough, after just one bowl, the man’s face was already flushed crimson.

But he poured himself a second bowl and once again drank it down in a single gulp.

After the second bowl, he looked noticeably tipsy, his eyes slightly unfocused.

Yet he poured a third, burst out laughing, and said, “This is wonderful wine! In all my life, I’ve never drunk so heartily. Even if I end up drunk, I must have my fill of three bowls, hahahaha!”

With that, he tossed back the third bowl.

“Good wine! Good wine! Excellent wine!” the man shouted three times, staggered a few steps toward the Dingding Gate, then collapsed with a crash. The crowd hurried over, only to find he was out cold and fast asleep.

The onlookers erupted in chatter—curious and tempted by the fiery wine, yet none brave enough to step forward next. Torn between curiosity and caution, they lingered, eager to see what would happen next.

“Young master, is this really free?” someone nearby, unable to resist his curiosity, stepped forward and asked.

Wei Renshi nodded. “Not a single coin.”

“Then let me have a try!” With Wei Renshi’s confirmation, the man stepped up, poured a bowl, and took a sniff. “Indeed, strong and fragrant!”

He took a sip, was instantly startled, set the bowl down, and began to gasp, exclaiming, “No, no! Far too strong! I can’t handle it! Such a pity, it smells so good, but I just can’t drink it!”

The crowd burst into laughter—some mocked his bravado, others urged him to make way.

But Wei Renshi spoke up again. “If the strong wine is too much for you, we have milder ones. If you can distinguish the different flavors in our wines, I’ll give you some as a gift. For each flavor you identify, I’ll give you two jars. Why not give it a try?”

The man’s eyes lit up and he nodded eagerly. “That sounds good!”

Old Sun led him under the straw canopy, where several small wine cups were set upon the tables, each filled with wine as clear as water.

The man picked up a cup, drank it in one go, and exclaimed, “This one is far milder than the first, but the aroma is just as rich. How curious!”

He set it down, picked up another, sniffed, took a sip, and pondered. “The first one was fresh and sweet, this one lingers on the palate... Though they all look like clear water, each has its own fragrance and flavor. Remarkable!”

He picked up a third, drank, and added, “Ah! This one is even more delicate and pure... Truly extraordinary!”

He set down the cup and turned to Wei Renshi. “I’ve learned something new today! Your Wei Distillery’s spirits are like nothing else. Young master, where is your distillery?”

“Wei Distillery, in the Southern Market,” Wei Renshi replied with a smile.

The man tried a few more cups but could identify no further flavors, so he claimed six jars as his prize. Still, he did not leave, instead standing by the roadside to see if anyone else would dare the ‘three bowls and you can’t enter the city’ challenge.

More and more passersby gathered, drawn by curiosity. Throughout the morning, a steady stream of bold souls took up the challenge, but by noon, the area around the straw canopy was littered with those who had collapsed in drunken slumber or sat down, unable to walk any further. Not a single person managed to drink three bowls and remain sober.

The one who lasted the longest after three bowls managed only fifty paces before toppling over and falling into a deep sleep.

Some of those who sobered up quickly found, to their surprise, that they had no headache at all. Sharing this with the crowd only heightened the amazement.

The spectators watched with growing excitement, discussing the wonders of Wei Distillery’s spirits. Within a day, half of Luoyang had heard the news: there was a stall outside Dingding Gate offering free tastings of wine, claiming ‘three bowls and you can’t enter the city,’ stirring the city’s drinkers to flock forth and try their luck.

By the end of the day, everyone returned to the Southern Market wine shop in great spirits.

Old Sun, in particular, was full of admiration for Wei Renshi. “Young master, your mind is truly sharp! To have come up with such a scheme! In just one day, I daresay all of Luoyang knows about our wine!”

“Father, I think it’s your brewing method that’s truly remarkable—to produce wine so strong and fragrant, yet free from headaches,” Sun Youqing added happily.

Wei Renshi smiled. “Youqing, Youquan, you must learn these techniques from Grandfather Sun as quickly as you can. I reckon it won’t be long before our distillery will open branches in Chang’an, in Yangzhou... and elsewhere. Those places are too far to manage from here, so we’ll need master brewers in charge.”

They understood his meaning at once. All three were overjoyed and quickly bowed in thanks. “Thank you, young master, for your support!”