April 8. Wuyi (武夷) Palace. Tea makers in flowing Hanfu bow before Wuyi Jun (武夷君), the god of tea. Each robe mirrors a tea variety—one pours like a rocky oolong, another sways like a tender bud. The air smells of incense and coming harvest.
They light sticks, strike a bronze bell, read old prayers. A senior offers fresh-brewed tea in clay cups. Then the sharing begins. Person by person, they present their named teas: Iron Arhat, Golden Turtle, White Cockscomb. All brew together, sip together. Steam rises. Silence holds.
No speech about legacy. Only hands passing cups, only the taste of a hundred teas from one pot. The ritual ends. But the tea keepers walk away slower, as if still kneeling inside the ceremony.
