Savor the subtle sweetness amidst the bitterness

     I once heard someone speaking in a foreign language say that Westerners drink tea by boiling tea leaves in water, filtering out the tea liquid, and eating only the tea leaves. They would smack their lips and say, "It's good, but unfortunately a bit bitter." I recently read a tea study written by an American, and it turns out this is true. When tea first arrived in England, the British didn't know how to consume it, so they did eat the tea leaves, sometimes mixed with butter and salt, and spread them on bread. The taste was so unpleasant, they dared not try it. Later, they used tea as medicine to treat colds and cleanse the stomach. Soon, tea drinking became very popular. A tea advertisement in 1660 stated: "This stimulant can dispel fatigue, eliminate nightmares, make the limbs light and the spirit full. It can especially suppress sleep, allowing scholars to study tirelessly through the night. It is especially suitable for those who are obese or eat too much meat." Dr. Poundgo of Leiden University, at the request of the East India Company, advertised tea extensively, saying that tea "warms the stomach, refreshes the mind, invigorates the brain, aids in learning, and can especially conquer mankind's greatest enemy—sleep." Their fear of sleep is similar to the modern fear of insomnia. How come the sleep demon of the past loved to cling to people, while the modern sleep demon has learned to be aloof, refusing to come even when invited? Legend has it that tea was originally a gift from heaven to Bodhidharma, who vowed to meditate facing a wall for nine years without sleep, thus fulfilling his vow. Hu Qiao's poem "Drinking Tea at Feilongjian" says, "The aftertaste of tea is like the lingering sweetness on the teeth; breaking sleep deserves the title of Marquis of Never Sleeping." Tang Yue's "Ode to Senbo" says, "Upon drinking, it feels strong and stern to the teeth; after a while, it feels strong and stern to the limbs." This shows that ancient people, both Chinese and foreign, had similar views on the effects of tea. However, the "lingering sweetness" of tea is something that those who drink milk tea cannot appreciate.

    Strong tea mixed with milk and sugar retains its aroma and flavor, but removes the bitterness of the tea, becoming a liquid food that not only quenches thirst but also satisfies hunger. I wonder what the ancients' addition of ginger and salt to tea tasted like. Lu Tong, who drank seven bowls of tea in one go, must have had too few leaves and too much water, making it diluted. The son of the poet Coleridge, also a poet, drank tea by the pot, not the cup. Dr. Johnson was also known for his large capacity for tea. However, they all drank rich, sweet tea. Bitter, strong tea is not suitable for large gulps; it's best savored slowly. According to Miaoyu in *Dream of the Red Chamber*, one cup of tea is for tasting, two cups are just for quenching thirst—a foolish act. So, drinking tea isn't about quenching thirst, but about discerning the flavor, savoring the subtle sweetness amidst the bitterness. I can't recall which English writer said, "The muse carries the scent of wine," or "Tea can only produce prose." But Chinese poetry possesses both the flavor of wine and the aroma of tea; "Poetry is pure only because of abundant tea drinking." Perhaps this bitterness is precisely the poetic flavor of tea.

    The French don't like tea. Balzac always added brandy to his tea. The *Qingyilu* records that Fu Zhaoyuan disliked tea, saying, "This thing has a cold and austere appearance, utterly lacking in gentleness and beauty; it can be called a cold-faced weed." Perhaps adding wine to tea could give it a "gentle and beautiful appearance"? Americans don't pay much attention to tea; wasn't the spark that ignited the American Revolutionary War the tea tax? To resist the British monopoly on tea imports, Americans concocted tea substitutes from several tree leaves. Even today, in their tea rooms, customers eat ice cream, drink coffee and other mixed beverages; connoisseurs don't want tea; the tea they do order is merely what the British call "dizzying water." Many American students studying abroad are hygienic and don't drink tea, only plain water, claiming that tea contains toxins. Tea substitutes shouldn't contain tea toxins. However, this kind of "tea" can be given up without any regret.

    Voltaire's doctor once advised him to give up coffee because "coffee contains toxins, only the toxicity is very slow to develop." Voltaire laughed and said, "Yes, that's why I've been drinking it for 70 years and haven't been poisoned yet." During the reign of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, a monk, 130 years old, was presented to the Eastern Capital. The emperor asked what medicine he took, and the monk replied, "I was poor in my youth and knew nothing of medicine, only of tea." He was then bestowed with 50 catties of fine tea. It seems that the toxins in tea take effect more slowly than those in coffee. Those who love tea should drink more!