“Inside the tile house, behind the paper window, the outside dust is shielded. Occasionally, a bit of tea is sipped, and the bitter taste stays between the tip of the tongue and the teeth. It faintly reveals a faint fragrance. The troubles of life, the hardships of survival... are all forgotten. In the faint tea taste, life gradually rises up to a simple, crystal-clear, faint, pure soul in the mud of the heart with a self-deprecating sense of humor.”
Zhou Zuoren, He Cha