Tea, originally written as “tú,” means bitter.

As tea-making techniques advanced, the taste of tea became more balanced and no longer made one frown.

However, when the warm tea rolls over your tongue and falls into your throat, you can still capture that faint hint of bitterness, elusive like the memory of tea.

In a small room, sitting idly, chess pieces clack along their lines, the wind rustles through bamboo, cups and Teapots are washed, and every movement of the tea drinker is unhurried, like a clear spring flowing steadily, complementing the tea perfectly.

A person, smiling silently; the tea, emitting steam. Here, between them, they become each other's true companions.

A person who understands the taste of tea also understands the taste of life.

Ordinary moments are common, and bitterness is inevitable, but after the bitterness fades, there is a lingering fragrance that permeates the heart.

The maturation or growth of a person, in essence, is like tea, where the bitterness fades away.

Perhaps, no matter whose life it is, there will be a period of hardship that cannot be avoided.

When the bitterness arrives, if you can withstand the trials of time, you will eventually find that a person can be like a Cup of tea, enduring roasting, rolling, and baking, and yet still come back to life under the chance encounter with water, and in this rebirth, the bitterness fades away.

Indeed, Drinking Tea is a form of tranquility, not because the tea drinker is idle, but because he has a clear heart.

The trivial disturbances of the world and once painful memories, as long as you are willing, will eventually fade away in the passage of time and be gently diluted in a pot of tea.