Winter Melon Tea
High in the mountains, a woman coursed through the trees. Her jet black hair was shoulder-length, and it waved behind her as she flew. Brilliant flowers ordained her hair, and some came loose and flitted away behind her. She wore a robe that was delicate shades of light green and earthen red. It was decorated with ornate golden plants and was tied at the waist with a white rope. The trees streamed by in her speed.
In her right hand, she held an oblong-shaped melon. Its skin was green and the flesh inside was white. As she dodged and darted through the canopy, her left hand sprinkled dashes of light onto the forest floor below. They exploded into brilliant flashes when they made contact with the ground and left behind a dazzling display of ephemeral, golden sparks. The eagles and the falcons and the hawks swooped through the skies in delight at the theatrics. She continued on to her destination.
Beyond the last set of sun-kissed mountains, a simple home stood in a clearing. White smoke drifted into the sky from its roof. The woman descended from the sky and knocked on the door of the house.
“Who is it?” replied the voice of an elderly woman.
“You may call me Zhiwu,” was what the old woman heard in return.
She opened the sturdy door to find an elegant woman in front of her. “What brings you to my simple home?” she asked. She had white hair tied back in a bun and was dressed in a tan smock. It was stained with the colors of dark root vegetables.
Zhiwu held out her right hand and gave the melon to the elderly woman. A voice began to ring out in the woman’s head: “this is a gift. Enjoy its mild, sweet taste, but be sure to use the seeds to grow enough fruit to get you through the winter. It will be a challenging one for many, but you will thrive thanks to this fruit.”
The elderly woman heard all of these words without Zhiwu ever moving her mouth. In fact, Zhiwu wore an exuberant smile the entire time. “Thank you, Zhiwu,” said the old woman. With that, Zhiwu took to the skies again and soared back towards the mountains.
The old woman, whose name was Jiayi, slowly closed her door in a bit of a state of surprise. Some beautiful woman flew over the mountains to knock on her door just to give her a melon and warn her of a potentially brutal winter? Jiayi had always heard of the gods and spirits intervening in the lives of humans, but she had never seen it happen for herself. She was grateful.
Jiayi set the melon on a wooden table in her home. Before she set it down, she squeezed it to see if it was ripe. It was still tough, so she decided to leave it be to see if it would soften and maybe become a little sweeter.
Her life carried on as normal over the next few days. Jiayi awoke with the sun and tended the plants near her home. She made simple spring soups with root vegetables and greens. All the while, she kept an eye on the melon to make sure it didn’t suddenly vanish into thin air or something else unexpected. She wondered how it tasted and finally succumbed to her curiosity one day. It was still fairly tough, but she was able to slice through it with her knife. The white flesh did have a mild sweetness as Zhiwu said. She savored it as she scooped out handfuls of the tan seeds.
On her next venture outside, Jiayi bent down slowly with some difficulty and buried the seeds in little hills. They quickly sprouted small seedlings that swayed joyfully in unison towards the sky. She smiled as she offered them some water and went back inside to finish eating the rest of the melon.
Over the coming weeks, the seedlings grew into mighty plants with broad leaves that soaked up the sun. The plants spread out all across her garden and home, eventually sprouting crinkled, bright-yellow flowers with five points. Jiayi made it a point to go outside and see the plants each day. She was so glad that they were growing well and that they seemed to like where she placed them. Over time, she began to sing lovely melodies to the plants as their flowers turned to fruit in midsummer.
When it came time to harvest, Jiayi had dozens of melons, surely enough to last her all through winter. She spent her autumn bringing two or three heavy fruits inside each day. It was certainly a test of the strength she had left. Since her home was modest and small, she struggled with where to store them. Melons were found lining her mantle, on her table, stuffed in cupboards, piled high in corners, and anywhere else she could place them. “So many fruits,” she would say to herself in awe.
Winter struck hard and early. The winds were frigid, and the snow and ice piled high. Each day, she would pass the time preparing the melons in different ways. Some days, she had them raw with dumplings. Other days, she would cook them in her soup with rice noodles. Whenever she sliced one open, though, she felt immense gratitude for Zhiwu. It’s true, the winter was brutal, and Jiayi often thought how hard she would have had it if not for the gift of the melons that lasted her all winter. By far, though, her favorite way to prepare the melon was to blend it in her tea. The mild sweetness of the winter melon mixed with the earthy flavor of ripened tea and sugar was truly something to behold. She wished she could share it with the other people in the valley, but the air was too cold and the snow too high for her to leave.
Months passed in isolation, but Jiayi never felt alone. She had fruits to prepare and try and sample. This was truly the highlight of her winter. She began to worry, though, as her supply of melons began to dwindle. The cold was showing no sign of abating, and she was down to less than a dozen melons. Still, though, Jiayi took the prophecy of Zhiwu to heart: she would thrive, and thrive she had. She learned all sorts of new recipes and felt a little of the spryness of her youth return. The fruit had been a joyful and thoughtful companion during a bitter season.
On the day of her final fruit, she decided to make tea. While hail and sleet torrented down from the gray clouds above and the winds howled, Jiayi’s home was a warm, cozy refuge. She took a sip of the tea and sank bank into her chair overcome with peace and gratitude.
Just then, she heard a knock at the door. Jiayi’s heart skipped a beat as she hoped her gracious visitor had returned. She made her way to the door as fast as she could, and when she opened the door, she found Zhiwu standing before her.
“It’s such a pleasure for these old eyes to see you, Zhiwu,” said Jiayi. “Come in, come in!” She beckoned Zhiwu in, and they both had a seat at the table.
“I see you have survived the winter.” Again, Zhiwu’s mouth did not move, but Jiayi heard her voice as clear as the winter ice outside.
“Despite the harsh weather, it was a lovely winter, really,” said Jiayi. “The melon was such a friend. Together, we made so many delicious dishes. I just let their inspiration guide me.” Zhiwu looked pleased. “But my lady,” said Jiayi, “surely the best thing I have discovered is mixing the melon with tea and sugar. Sometimes the simplest things bring the most joy.”
Jiayi prepared a cup for Zhiwu. The tea steamed with little curls of water vapor that floated effortlessly into the air. Zhiwu brought the clay cup up to her lips and tasted. It was complex, and the taste shifted over time. The mild sweetness of the melon came through at first, but it transitioned into a delicious roasted flavor that tasted of tea with hints of coconut. Jiayi was right; it was delicious.
“Thank you,” said Zhiwu with a wide smile, her lips actually moving this time. She stood from the table, and Jiayi quickly moved after her.
“Oh, won’t you stay?” pleaded Jiayi.
“My time here draws short; I cannot. Your winter melon tea was very much worth the trip.”
Jiayi bowed reverently as the spirit flew into the air in a wisp of flowers and wind. The door flew open, and Zhiwu took to the skies leaving a trail of melon flowers behind her. As she soared past the mountains, the ground suddenly erupted into spring. The snow and ice vanished and were replaced by flowing, emerald-green grasses and blossoming trees.