In early winter 2018, we held a tea gathering in front of the Mogao Caves, titled “Glimmering Light – A Visionary Experience.” The tea practitioners scooped up the sand from Mogao and placed it into a glass hourglass. As the hourglass was turned over, the tea ceremony began. Water was poured, tea liquor extracted, served, and sipped. We did not invite many people; just a few tea lovers who had traveled far to sit with us in the desert. The transparent glass frames held tea notes, with sand and wind swirling outside, and the corners of the tea practitioners' robes and their footsteps.
The tea wasn't scalding hot, but it still warmed us. Thinking about this tea, I returned again.
Yangguan – Flickering Fires in the Wind
I've been to Yangguan several times, each time bringing tea and a pot of wine. Zhao Wen carried her zither, saying she would play “Three Stanzas of Yangguan” there. On a clear winter day, the wooden walkway on the Gobi Desert was empty. The brown-red Gobi was protected by the boardwalk, the sandy and gravel ground layered deep and shallow, extending all the way to the horizon. Within these layers, air currents made some parts of the Gobi slightly blurry, appearing like a layer of illusion and reality.
Upon closer inspection, there were withered gray-green plants in the Gobi. When I asked Mr. Liu Shenghui from Yangguan about them, he said: In spring, if there is rain on the Gobi, the plants will turn green again. However, winter comes early, so this layer of green only lasts for a few months.
We set up our seats in a depression between two large sand dunes: one for the zither and five for tea. We lit charcoal braziers, and the northwest wind blew, so the practitioners turned the brazier openings towards the wind. The fire quickly grew strong, and the water in the pots boiled instantly. Everyone prepared Pu'er ripe tea using the Lanyue Nine Styles technique. After three pours and one extraction, the tea slid down our throats, feeling a warm and thick breath slowly entering our bodies, spreading from the Stomach and intestines to the limbs and back, making our bodies relaxed and warm.
After six infusions, Zhao Wen started playing the zither. Last night, Xiao Ying copied the lyrics of “Three Stanzas of Yangguan” onto a wooden slip, written in a style resembling clerical script, with a touch of the feel of a slip fallen into quicksand. I'm not good at singing, so I recited it softly. Mr. Liu Shenghui, who shared tea with us last year, continued the tea connection at Yangguang, and we had a few more companions. After drinking tea, we poured a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon into a silver pot, warmed it up, and served it to everyone. The fire was bright, and today, we relied entirely on the wind's force; the fans we brought were not used. As we raised our glasses, the sky was full of sunset, the most magnificent and desolate moment at Yangguan, and dusk was setting in.
Yulin Caves – Listening to Sounds on the Snowfield
A few days before going to the Yulin Caves, it had snowed. Passing through Guazhou, there was a bleak stretch of black Gobi, where the wind and sand constantly polished the surface of the sand and gravel, forming a glossy dark brown layer of iron and manganese compounds, giving the undulating sand dunes a mysterious black appearance. Further down, the mountains and Snow mixed into a cold and grand landscape.
The water in the Yulin River hadn't frozen yet, and its sound echoed in the empty Qilian Mountain valley. We viewed each cave one by one, and although the area of the covered hopper-shaped Cave 25 from the Middle Tang period wasn't large, it was still bright and rich. Someone donated protective devices and special lighting equipment, allowing visitors to view the murals up close.
After paying our respects to the murals, we found a flat spot on the Yulin Riverbank and sat down to boil water and prepare tea, using “Cang Yu” as our table. Shen Hui fetched a few dried branches and a pile of snow for offerings in front of our seats. Normally, during our study trips, we would bring bottled water with stable water quality, but this time, we wanted everyone to experience the characteristics of local water and its relationship with tea, using filtered mountain spring water from the Yulin Caves.
We brewed Pu'er ancient tree raw tea, ripe tea, and the third type was Fu tea from Anhua, using water boiled with white charcoal in Clay stoves. Surprisingly, the tea liquor was full-bodied and viscous, quite different from the previous year when the water was slightly alkaline, resulting in a slightly salty taste and restrained aroma. It's unclear whether it was due to changes in the minerals in the soil around the Yulin Caves or the amount of precipitation. Today, we first asked everyone to sit quietly, adjust their breathing, and then start brewing tea, reminding them to lift and release the water when pouring and holding the teapot, experiencing a slight sticky sensation, stepping away from the almost smooth and skilled. Although we have brewed this tea countless times, we approached it with the solemnity and curiosity of a first encounter, focusing on thinking about the unfolding of the tea leaves in the water and the release of their inner substances.
Closing our eyes and sitting cross-legged, listening to the flow, the sunlight warmed our backs, and our whole body felt warm. There were many details in the sound of the Yulin River; the sound of distant waves hitting rocks, the sound of the main current rushing with determination, and the sound of splashing water on pebbles near the riverbank could all be clearly distinguished. Because of the stillness and heightened senses, the auditory and gustatory pleasures were delightful. Perhaps this was due to the ancient yet stable aura of the Yulin Caves? Or perhaps it was because of the extremely clean air after the snow? Perhaps, it was because a group of people with simple and pure hearts for tea gathered in a vast yet rich place.
Mogao Caves – No Need to Ask About Springs, Just Scoop One Up
In Cave 217 of the Mogao Caves, there is a mural called “The Parable of the City of Transformation.” The Tang Dynasty painter didn't depict the journey as full of dangers and desolate, but instead painted a peaceful landscape of blue-green mountains and waters. The winding river, overlapping mountains, peach and plum trees blooming by the riverside, and green willows in the breeze. Every time I come to the Mogao Caves, I look at this painting. Even though I am foolish, I still gain something from it. Therefore, I named this Mogao Caves tea gathering, which also marked the conclusion of our study trip, “City of Transformation – Asking About Springs.”
That day, the nine-story building was in front, and the Sanwei Mountains behind. The sky above the Mogao Caves was blue like the sea, and clear springs blossomed in the sand. Dunhuang is a place where cultures converge, and the blue-and-green glassware transported from the Western Regions to China meets in the vast desert, a pool of clear water, like a spring but not a spring.
The hourglass still flowed with time-like fine sand, and blue, purple, and oddly shaped glassware filled with clear water. The water color, reflections of the sky, and the luster of the glassware were a glimpse of the Seven Treasures Glass Pool, a secret color carried on the backs of camels along the