In traditional Chinese life, hospitality relies heavily on two beverages: one is tea, and the other is wine.

"Cold night, guests arrive, tea serves as wine; the bamboo stove boils, the fire just turning red."

— Du Lei, Song Dynasty

Throughout history, tea and wine have often been playfully set against each other in Chinese literature. A fascinating Tang dynasty manuscript discovered in the Dunhuang caves, titled Dialogue Between Tea and Wine (Chajiu Lun), features a witty debate between the two drinks, both personified. Tea boasts of its refined nature and its ability to keep the mind focused, while Wine proudly claims that it alone can ease sorrows and seal lifelong friendships.

As the argument heats up, Water finally steps in. With calm authority, Water reminds them that without him, neither of them would even exist. The thousand-year-old debate ends on a note of harmony, revealing a core truth about the Chinese art of hosting: different elements must work together to create a beautiful whole.

Tea for the Arrival

In a traditional Sichuan home, tea and wine naturally divide the day, each fulfilling a distinct role in welcoming a guest. When a visitor first arrives, the host's immediate gesture is to steep a pot of hot tea.

Tea has an introverted, quiet character. It is offered to wash away the dust of the journey and provide a calm transition into the household. As the host and guest sit over small, steaming cups, the atmosphere is polite, composed and gently formal. The conversation, much like the clear tea itself, flows in a measured and tranquil manner.

A delicate porcelain teacup being filled with clear green tea on a dark wooden tea tray
A delicate porcelain teacup being filled with clear green tea on a dark wooden tea tray

Wine for the Evening

However, as the sun sets and the rich aromas of home-cooked dishes drift from the kitchen, the teacups quietly withdraw to make way for baijiu glasses. If tea is meant to welcome the guest, wine is meant to make them want to stay.

As everyone gathers around the dining table, the host might bring out a bottle of Bainian Qifu · 8. The red porcelain bottle with its gold calligraphy immediately adds a sense of warmth and celebration to the room. Crafted from five grains—sorghum, wheat, rice, glutinous rice, and corn—and fermented for about two months in traditional yellow-mud pits, this strong-aroma baijiu offers a profound depth of flavour.

As the spirit is poured into small ceramic cups, the mood of the gathering undergoes a subtle but beautiful shift. Unlike the restraint of afternoon tea, Bainian Qifu · 8 brings a smooth entry and a lingering, caramel-like sweetness. With each raised cup, the remaining layers of formality dissolve. Polite smiles turn into genuine laughter, stories are shared more freely, and the bonds of friendship deepen.

Tea and wine—one clear and quiet, the other rich and animated—were never truly rivals. Instead, they seamlessly pass the baton over the course of a day. Together, they capture the essence of Chinese hospitality: starting with respectful restraint, and ending in warm, unbridled joy.