In the high mountains of Lugu Township, mornings begin in drifting mist. Soft white fog rises through the tea garden, brushes the leaves, and settles into Wudang’s quiet footsteps.

He walks the same narrow mountain path each day, moving with the calm of the forest itself.

To him, tea cannot be hurried—it follows the pace of the mountain.  Freshly picked leaves rest indoors for nearly twenty hours, allowing moisture to fade naturally. Then comes rolling—ninety slow, steady minutes when honey–fruit aromas awaken. “This is when the tea takes its first breath,” Wudang says.

After five hours of silent fermentation and a gentle low-heat roast, the leaves reveal the character of the season. Wudang never blends his tea; each harvest stands alone, telling its own story.

When hot water meets the leaves, the first infusion releases warmth, honeyed notes, and the quiet rhythm of the mountains—a rhythm Wudang has listened to for decades.

Beyond the rhythm of tea-making, Wudang follows another rhythm—the rhythm of the land.

Years earlier, he began working with the Agricultural Product Certification Center at National Chung Hsing University.

Together they planted organic Taiwan Tea No. 18—Ruby Black—grown without pesticides and nourished only by Japanese organic fertilizers.

Every season, soil and leaf samples were tested and recorded, ensuring the garden remained as clean as the morning mist.

Wudang often said:

“A tea garden must be as pure as the fog.”

The first years brought no harvest—only work.

Hand-pulling weeds. Sunrise and afternoon inspections. Hundreds of quiet, persistent tasks that ask for patience, never speed. 

Even when insects claimed half the leaves each season, he did not turn back.

 Six years of devotion reshaped him. His body grew stronger; his breath clearer. Free from the fatigue of chemical exposure, he understood something profound: healthy soil grows healthy tea—and healthy tea supports healthy people.

Today, every cup of his organic Ruby Red Tea carries that purity.

It requires no rinsing; the first infusion is already warm, clean, and honest—just like the hands that cared for it.