The four seasons have rain, hence all things grow, their branches and leaves ever-renewed.

And in life, whether mired or dry, if you still have clear Tea in hand and its dewy nectar to sip, it can wash away worries, ease anxiety, and moisten the fields within your heart.

Tea is the rain in one's life.

Vibrant flowers, tranquil leaves, and ineffable pleasures are born from this.

Tea makes one perceptive yet calm.

In his “Many Rats Studio Talks,” Lao She wrote: “I am a true Chinese, Coffee, cocoa, and beer are not my Cup of joy, I only love tea. With a good cup of tea, I can find peace and contentment in observing all things.”

As an avid tea drinker, Lao She had a habit of sipping tea while writing, changing his Brew three times a day, always strong.

With clear tea as his companion, ideas flowed like a spring, no wonder he could create immortal works such as “Teahouse.”

Winter brings white snow, autumn brings the moon, poetry becomes clearer with much tea drinking.

Those who love tea, nourished by this gentle rain in their hearts, have a distinct clarity in their brows.

Nalan Rongruo was such a man. He loved tea throughout his life, so deeply rooted was his passion, like a calligraphic Orchid brushed in ink, shrouded in faint sorrow and affection.

Whenever I read the line: “Who could play the harp after our parting, broken-hearted, far away. Wasting youth, a wisp of tea smoke through green gauze.” I imagine that misty window, the fleeting tea smoke, all like being in the Jiangnan rain, captivating and dreamlike.

The benevolent find joy in mountains, the wise in water, the talented in tea.

Those who love tea are often gentle, their eyes bright, like luminous landscapes just cleansed by spring rain, thus more fitting to be representatives of truth and beauty.

In the vast world, busy and bustling, one inevitably gathers dust, so one should drink more tea.

After all, tea nourishes not just the body but also the soul, cleansing not just the organs but also the spirit.

The beauty of tea does not lie in the tea itself but in oneself when drinking it, just as the beauty of rain lies not in the rain but in the sky and earth within it.

Brew a pot of tea, send rain to the thirsty fields of your heart, pick up life anew, find solace in the tea, let go in the tea, and rediscover long-lost flavors in the tea.

When troubles depart with the tea, comfort arrives with it, may you be like a sapling favored by spring rain, leaves bright, glowing softly.