A Cup of light Tea, a few simple countryside cottages, moonlight in the dead of night filtering through the window, spreading across the tabletop, occasionally hearing the clear chirping of a few crickets next door. Suddenly, a fresh breeze arises; thus, the Chrysanthemum window is half-covered. I pick up my Teacup, amidst the misty vapor and the faint fragrance of tea, tasting the mild bitterness, recalling bygone times. I think this is life to come. Gently swirling the teacup in my hand, watching the pale green tea leaves rise and fall, clustering together, sinking and floating, changing positions, trying to find their own optimal balance point…

A cup of light tea, a few simple countryside cottages, moonlight in the dead of night filtering through the window, spreading across the tabletop, occasionally hearing the clear chirping of a few crickets next door. Suddenly, a fresh breeze arises; thus, the chrysanthemum window is half-covered. I pick up my teacup, amidst the misty vapor and the faint fragrance of tea, tasting the mild bitterness, recalling bygone times. I think this is life to come.

Gently swirling the teacup in my hand, watching the pale green tea leaves rise and fall, clustering together, sinking and floating, changing positions, trying to find their own optimal balance point. Taking a small sip of the tea, letting the mild bitterness spread across my tongue, filling my teeth and throat. Then, taking a deep breath, the lingering fragrance fills my lips, spreading through my lungs and belly, washing away all weariness and indifference. It feels as though I am drunk, in a daze, not wanting to wake up for a long time. At night, the room fills with the scent of tea, the tea in the cup gradually turning from light to dark, sinking and floating, gathering and dispersing, in the bitter and the fragrant.

Once upon a time, I drank tea with an elder whom I deeply respected, listening to his insights on Tea culture and his reflections on life. I felt that his heart was like the warm tea at the time, capable of embracing all friendly expressions. He taught me how to appreciate a good cup of tea, helping me gradually understand tea culture, using it to unravel my former confusions and enlighten me. I clearly remember the eight words he shared with me: fragrant, fresh, sweet, bright, pure, clean, bitter, and astringent. Reflecting back now, each word seems to have its profound meaning, irreplaceable by anything else, each endowed with its own soul.