A Person Who Can Brew Good Tea Can't Be All That Bad

“A person who can brew good tea can’t be all that bad.”

“You may be casual, but never careless.”

The Art of Active and Passive

Master Ye Hanzhong says: “Many people aren’t brewing tea—they’re being brewed by the tea.” A person who brews tea can, through technique and tools, bring out the tea’s best qualities regardless of the leaves’ quality, creating tea soup with distinctive character. A person being brewed by tea lets all the strengths and weaknesses emerge at once, sometimes leaving only weaknesses—naturally the tea won’t taste good.

This reminds me of using AI: if you can establish frameworks and reasonably constrain this “external brain,” it can accomplish more for you. If you just randomly toss ideas without your own structure, you’ll struggle to leverage AI’s strengths.

Twenty Years to Enter the Door

Chaozhou Gongfu tea speaks of “three and a half masters”: the tea-making master, the roasting master, the blending master, plus half a tea-brewing master. Brewing is only counted as “half” because unlike tea-making, it has no standard process—it relies more on intuition and improvisation, requiring the integration of Tai Chi’s roundness and harmony. It’s truly not simple.

When I focus on the tea leaves, water temperature, and time, my daily anxieties actually dissipate. Tea becomes an anchor for attention, putting me in a flow state where the brain releases happiness hormones. This is the power of brewing tea with heart.

The Wisdom of Casual but Not Careless

Chaozhou Gongfu tea says: “You may be casual, but never careless.” The environment can be casual—you can brew tea on a mountain or at home. But attitude and technique cannot be careless—when tea leaves enter water, it’s like entering a new cycle of rebirth, requiring focus and respect.

True masters “brew with spirit.” Just as calligraphers write until they forget themselves, tea brewers can become one with the tea, naturally producing good tea. When we played with mud as children, no one taught us standards; we created by feel, yet we found joy in it. This is the power of putting your heart into something.

Experience Speaks Louder Than a Thousand Words

We’re often trapped by tea culture theory, forgetting the simplest question: Does this tea taste good? The first time I used a Chaozhou Zhu Ni (vermilion clay) teapot to brew Dan Cong tea, I doubted whether the pot was too small, the cups too thin. The moment the tea soup entered my mouth, I knew the answer—brewing this way really does taste better.

Chaozhou Gongfu tea has endured because it genuinely produces good tea. There are only two goals:

• Brew tea that suits the occasion.

• Enjoy the process of brewing. If the guest wants it strong, I brew strong; if they want it light, I brew light; whatever flavor they want, I brew it for them. Guard the spirit within, harmonize with the world.

The Power of Slowness

True Gongfu tea requires slowing down: the charcoal fire slowly rises, the water sounds shift from urgent to gentle; selecting tea, adding leaves, pouring water, decanting—each step cannot be rushed; when tasting, slowly feel the layers of aroma and changes in the tea soup. This isn’t wasting time—it’s enjoying time.

“A person who can brew good tea can’t be all that bad.” Someone who respects tea will also respect people. Master Ye went from fighting from third grade to ninth grade, and tea changed him. For me, a person who loves reading can’t be a bad person either. Gongfu tea reminds us: in this fast-paced era, we need to preserve space for slowing down.

The Knowledge in Details

During several days of learning, I often used lunch breaks to consult with Teacher Qingqing, seeing the charm of metaphors through her. She could use an apple to explain the different processing of green tea, black tea, oolong tea, and dark tea. We discussed how tea leaves are hard to keep completely consistent, but blended tea can bring stable flavor. Even the pastries at hand could become examples.

I learned that the Gongfu tea equipment system used to be quite complex: wash basins, charcoal stoves, sand kettles… now much simplified. I also learned that there are professional blending masters responsible for combining different teas into ideal proportions.

Small knowledge picked up includes:

• When arranging cups, the pointed corners of three cups face yourself, so guests see the character “品” (taste/quality).

• When brewing with a purple clay pot, form an angle near the spout to stabilize the tea soup and prevent layering.

• When pouring water, pour from the side near the cup handle; you can control the tea’s flavor through high pour or low pour.

  We also discussed clouds and mist: clouds are mist, mist is clouds—both are water molecules. Seen up close it’s mist, from afar it’s cloud—same essence. People insist on adding distinctions, which is actually a limitation of language and thought.

  I realized that putting mental energy into news, gossip, and trivialities leaves no opportunity to process life’s real growing pains. It’s not that entertainment is bad, but remember to care for yourself, care for the person who understands you best. “Antifragile” mentioned that our language limits our thinking—Chinese has no true antonym for “fragile.” “Resilient” and “strong” aren’t it; we can only say “antifragile.”

Insights from Mountain Tea Gardens

After several days of learning, standing again on Phoenix Mountain, looking at endless tea gardens, drifting cloud seas, scattered old houses, I had new feelings. Not just the magnificent scenery before me, but the deep cultural heritage within.

The inheritance of Chaozhou Gongfu tea shouldn’t be too complicated, like notches on a key—the more there are, the harder it is to open. “The Tao that can be spoken is not the eternal Tao.” I hope that after seeing enough, I can let go of attachments, hear my inner voice, befriend tea, and cherish every bit of beauty that comes by luck.