A timeless blend of tradition and craftsmanship — where academic legacy meets modern tea artistry.

Hold this teapot in your hands, and you’re not just holding a vessel for tea — you’re cradling a story. The thick, heat-resistant borosilicate glass catches the light like aged parchment, while the smooth, solid wood handle warms to your touch like the weathered beams of an old library. It’s as if you’ve opened a chapter from Peking University’s earliest archives, where every brick, beam, and bookshelf whispers of quiet contemplation and enduring ideas.

The design echoes the architectural soul of the university’s historic campus — the balance between strength and elegance, stone and timber, permanence and grace. Just as the red-brick halls of Yenching Academy stand framed by wooden eaves and tranquil courtyards, so too does this teapot marry resilience with refinement. Its transparent body reveals the dance of leaves within, much like the clarity of thought nurtured in the shadow of Weiming Lake.

Watching water rise to a gentle boil — a ritual that mirrors the slow unfolding of knowledge.

In the early 20th century, scholars gathered around stoves in modest study rooms, debating philosophy over steaming cups of oolong. They knew that truth, like tea, cannot be rushed. This teapot honors that patience. Its thick-walled glass heats slowly and evenly, allowing water to awaken without scalding delicate leaves — especially the prized Xiao Qing Gan (small green tangerine) pu’erh, which unfurls leaf by leaf, releasing layers of citrus and earth like thoughts maturing over time. Each infusion becomes a meditation, a tribute to the scholarly virtue of deep, unhurried inquiry.

Beneath the surface, a precision-crafted stainless steel filter performs its quiet work. Fine mesh, seamlessly integrated, captures every speck of sediment while letting flavor flow freely. It’s more than functionality — it’s a metaphor. In academia, as in tea, excellence lies in discernment. One must strain away noise, bias, and haste to reveal essence. Imagine an elder professor, sleeves rolled, gazing into the swirling amber liquid as he murmurs, “Good tea is like good scholarship — filtered, refined, true.”

Crafted from a single piece of natural wood — warm, balanced, and built to last.

The handle, carved from a solid block of sustainably sourced hardwood, is neither an afterthought nor an ornament. It is engineered for comfort, shaped to fit the curve of the hand, and treated to resist heat — a silent guardian against burns. But beyond utility, it carries memory. Run your fingers along its grain, and you might recall the carpenters of old燕京大学 (Yenching University), whose chisels shaped lecture halls and reading desks with care passed down through generations. This handle doesn’t just hold the pot — it connects us to a lineage of makers who believed that beauty lives in function, and dignity in detail.

Modern science meets tradition in the high borosilicate glass, capable of withstanding sudden temperature shifts without cracking — a triumph of material engineering. Yet rather than masking tradition, technology here serves it. Like蔡元培 (Cai Yuanpei), the visionary educator who championed reason and culture at Peking University, this teapot embodies a harmony of logic and aesthetics. Were he alive today, one imagines him selecting this very vessel — not for novelty, but for integrity. A tool that respects both mind and moment.

Morning light, a notebook open, steam curling upward — the perfect setting for reflection.

Picture it: dawn breaks over your desk, a journal lies open, and the first pour fills the air with citrus-kissed vapor. Or perhaps it's afternoon laughter shared with friends, the teapot at the center of conversation. Maybe it's late night solitude, moonlight tracing the silhouette of leaves suspended in golden liquor. In each scene, the act of brewing becomes more than preparation — it becomes ritual. A pause. A return to presence. In a world of endless scrolling and instant replies, this teapot invites slowness, focus, intention. It’s a form of mental training — watching water, observing color, inhaling aroma — aligning breath with thought, just as deep reading aligns mind with meaning.

True classics do not shout; they endure. Like the enduring values of intellectual curiosity and moral courage upheld at Peking University, this teapot makes no flashy claims. It simply exists — well-made, honest, graceful. It is not meant for fleeting trends, but for daily reverence. A family heirloom in the making, passed from hand to hand, carrying not just tea, but moments: quiet mornings, shared wisdom, personal breakthroughs.

To brew with this teapot is to participate in a quiet rebellion — against speed, distraction, disposability. It is to say, even in small ways, that some things are worth waiting for. That clarity comes through patience. That beauty resides in balance. With every pour, you honor a century of thinkers, teachers, and dreamers — and quietly, gently, continue their legacy, one cup at a time.