On the table rests a piece of tinware, holding a purple clay teapot. As tea soup pours, the excess water trickles gently into the "pond" — this object hiding behind the tea setting is the teapot stand, anciently known as "tea boat" (chachuan) or "tea basin" (chachi). Shaped like a small tray, it lies beneath the teacup, catching residual liquid with its modest size to keep the tea table clean and moist, embodying the Chinese tea ceremony's philosophy of "combining utility with elegance."
Tin has long been a cherished material for crafting tea ware, wine vessels, and tea caddies due to its excellent properties — mild texture, moisture resistance, and corrosion resistance. As early as the Qin and Han dynasties, it found its way into tea and wine gatherings. By the Ming and Qing dynasties, with the flourishing of the tea ceremony, tin craftsmanship reached new heights. Tin teapot stands evolved from purely functional items into "elegant curios" for literati and scholars. Whether with a smooth finish or intricate carvings, they not only endured the heat of teapots but also complemented the purity of tea soup, becoming a poetic presence amid the fragrance of tea.
The vintage octagonal tin teapot stand collected by Tongxin She Teahouse is a perfect example of "utility coexisting with elegance." Measuring just 12cm in width and 8cm in height, it fits neatly in the palm, yet holds the ingenuity of ancient craftsmen: the tin frame features a vintage finish, its matte luster resembling that of a century-old tea smoke-infused artifact. The octagonal shape ensures stability without taking up much space on the tea table, serving as a versatile backdrop for any tea setting.
What makes it even more remarkable is its "three-in-one" versatility. As a teapot stand, the retro tin texture enhances the antique charm of purple clay teapots, while the hollowed-out glass paintings on the sides peek through — scenes of hermits conversing under pine trees, eminent monks meditating on rocks, or boys holding tea cups, becoming "living paintings" during tea service. As a cup holder, it snugly fits a tasting cup, with its rim aligning perfectly with the cup mouth to keep the base free from dust; the paintings shift gently as the cup turns, creating a moving mini-scene. As a waste water bowl (jianshui), its deep cavity accommodates tea dregs and waste water, and the moisture-resistant tin frame is easy to clean — its vintage appearance harmonizes seamlessly with modern tea trays and tea scoops, blending past and present.
The most enchanting detail lies in the hand-painted glass panels. Delicate watercolor brushstrokes, softened by the glass's translucency, depict hermits with robes fluttering in pine wind, boys with gentle expressions holding tea cups. To the touch, it’s cool and smooth glass; to the eye, it’s the warmth of bygone eras — this is no mere tea utensil, but a tiny world wrapped in tea smoke, preserving the ancient literati’s ideal of "brewing tea under pines and serving tea by meditation" within its compact form.
On the tea table, the teapot stand is never the centerpiece, yet it is indispensable. With tin as its bone and paintings as its soul, it bears the warmth of teapots, catches the moisture of tea soup, and embodies the Chinese aesthetic of "finding elegance in subtlety." When your fingertips brush the matte tin surface and your gaze lingers on the vintage scenes in the glass, you’ll realize that within this small utensil lies not just residual tea water, but the timeless poetry of tea lovers, preserved through the ages.