A Courtyard for Eight Million: Tea, Jade, and the Quiet Rebellion of Turning Forty

A Courtyard for Eight Million: Tea, Jade, and the Quiet Rebellion of Turning Forty
花八百萬買一方小院：茶、玉，與四十之後的靜默叛逆

From a deeply personal lens, this article explores Oriental Collecting.

When a man is young, all he wants is the horizon: motorcycles, red-eye flights, last-minute road trips.
當男人還年輕，眼裡只有天邊的風景：摩托車、紅眼班機、說走就走的公路旅行。
He reads ancient poems about “deep, deeper, deepest courtyards” and wonders why anyone would cage himself inside four mossy walls.
他讀到古詩裡「庭院深深深幾許」的句子，總納悶誰願意把自己關進四面苔痕的牆裡。

Then thirty arrives like a gentle but insistent knock on the door.
三十歲像一記溫柔卻堅定的敲門聲，準時抵達。
Suddenly the same man who once chased sunsets across continents feels a wild ivy of longing growing inside his chest: the need for a courtyard of his own.
忽然間，那位曾經跨洲追日出的男人，胸口長出一株瘋狂的常春藤——對一方屬於自己的庭院的渴望。

As a jade-collecting friend told me: “Without a courtyard that belongs to you, life always feels like an unfinished sentence.”
一位玩玉的朋友說：「沒有一方屬於自己的院子，人生就像一句未竟的話。」
At thirty-eight, he spent eight million RMB—roughly 1.1 million USD—on a modest house whose only true luxury was the tiny patch of earth enclosed behind it.
於是，他三十八歲那年，用八百萬人民幣（約一百一十萬美元）買下一間房子，真正的奢侈只是屋後那一小塊被圍起的土地。

Why a Courtyard Feels Like Coming Home？

為何庭院像回家？

A courtyard is not mere real estate; it is a living manuscript of middle age.
庭院不只是房地產，它是中年的一本活手稿。
It does not need to be large, but it must contain sky above and soil beneath, a place where flowers can gossip and weeds can philosophize.
它不必遼闊，但必有天有地，花能八卦，草能說禪。

It is a harbor from the siren calls of KPIs, stock tickers, and group-chat notifications.
它是逃離 KPI、股票行情與群組通知的避風港。
Close the wooden gate, and the four seasons negotiate their passage without your permission—spring barges in uninvited, winter tiptoes out without saying goodbye.
掩上木門，四季逕自輪轉——春不請自來，冬悄然而去，無須你批准。

Inside this bounded universe, you finally recover the sensation of steering your own life.
在這方有限的天裡，你重新找回掌舵人生的手感。
No algorithm decides what you see next; the next thing you see is a dragonfly deciding whether your koi pond is worth the detour.
沒有演算法替你決定下一個畫面；下一個畫面是一隻蜻蜓，正在考慮是否值得為你的錦鯉池繞路。

Tea and Jade: The Two Scrolls Time Hands You at Forty

茶與玉：四十歲時光遞上的兩幅卷軸

Yet walls and soil are only the opening chapter.
然而，牆與土只是開篇。
Two more characters must enter the story: tea and jade——Oriental Collecting.
故事還需要兩位主角：茶與玉。

Tea is the landscape your tongue can hike: bitter valleys, sweet peaks, and the occasional mist of nostalgia.
茶是舌尖可攀登的山水：苦澀峽谷、回甘峰巒，偶爾飄過鄉愁的霧。
Jade is the chronicle your palm can read: every swirl, fleck, or “water line” is a sentence in a language older than money.
玉是掌心可閱讀的春秋：每一條紋理、棉絮、水線，都是金錢誕生前的語言。

Only inside your own courtyard can these two scrolls be unrolled properly.
只有在自己的院子裡，這兩幅卷軸才能被妥帖攤開。
Imagine a slanted afternoon sun, cicadas rehearsing their ancient chorus, and you lay a white-jade plaque on the stone table.
想像午後斜陽，蟬聲如舊劇開場，你把一方白玉牌放在石桌上。
Light slips through its edge and prints a pale-green shadow on the ground—like a message from a previous life.
陽光滑過邊緣，在地面拓下一抹淡青的影子——像前世捎來的訊息。

Your tea has cooled; you top it up with hot water.
茶涼了，你注入熱水。
The leaves pirouette inside the cup like the younger version of yourself who once spun through crowded bars and midnight deadlines.
茶葉在盞中打轉，像年輕時在擁擠酒吧與死線午夜打轉的自己。

The courtyard brick, the steam above the cup, the vein on the jade—each writes you a love letter without words.
院中的磚、盞上的霧、玉裡的紋，各自用無聲寫下一封情書。
Their answers lie in the warm touch of stone and the slow accretion of minutes into years.
答案藏在石頭的溫潤觸感，與分鐘堆疊成年歲的靜默裡。

Jade as Meditation: The Threefold Discipline

以玉為禪：三重修煉

The craftsman will tell you that “jade has five virtues,” but the middle-aged collector translates them into three personal disciplines:
工匠說「玉有五德」，步入中年的藏玉人則譯成三條自律：

Do not chase perfection. 不貪完美。
A white nephrite boulder carries its “water line” like a birthmark; jadeite may contain cottony inclusions like memories you cannot delete.
和田白玉帶水線如胎記，翡翠有棉絮如刪不掉的回憶。
In forgiving the stone its flaws, you practice forgiving your own.
原諒石頭的瑕疵，等同練習原諒自己的傷疤。
Do not hurry the outcome. 不疾求成。
Warming jade with daily handling is like fermenting a life’s work—each palm’s sweat is a silent dialogue with time.
日日盤玉如釀光陰，掌心汗水是與時間的悄聲對話。
Do not follow the crowd’s verdict. 不隨人言。
Every piece of jade has its own temperament; some like to be caressed, others prefer the cool shade.
每塊玉自有脾氣，有的喜摩挲，有的愛幽涼。
Likewise, a man in midlife learns to march to the rhythm he alone can hear.
同理，中年男人終於學會只跟聽得見的節拍前進。

Tea: The Bitter-Sweet Resume of Half a Life

茶：半生悲喜的簡歷

Middle-aged men do not drink tea for the caffeine; they drink it for the footnotes.
中年男人喝茶，不為咖啡因，為的是註腳。
Each steeping is a chapter: the first cup, astringent like overdue rent; the third, mellow like a daughter’s piano recital; the seventh, watery yet wise, like the last words of a retiring professor.
每一泡都是一章：首泡苦澀如拖欠的房租；三泡醇和如女兒的鋼琴發表會；七泡淡薄卻通透，像退休教授的最後一堂課。

Jade: Reconciling with the Balance Sheet of Time

玉：與歲月損益表和解

To play with jade（or Oriental Collecting） is not to worship price tags; it is to sign a peace treaty with the irreversible.
玩玉不是膜拜標價，而是與不可逆的東西簽和平條約。
Every scratch on the surface is a reminder that nothing, not even regret, is permanent.
表面的每道刮痕提醒：連後悔也並非永恆。

The Epilogue Written in One Sentence

用一句話寫的尾聲

If you ask me to compress the wish of every forty-something man I know into a single line, it would be this:
若把我所認識的四十世代男人的願望壓成一句話，那會是：

“In my own small courtyard, I sit across from tea and whisper to jade, and suddenly the calendar loses its authority.”
「在我小小的院子裡，與茶對坐，與玉私語，日曆頓時失去管轄權。」

A Starter Kit for the Courtyard-Curious

給想擁有院子的新手錦囊

Start small. A balcony with two square meters can host a dwarf tea tree and a pebble-tray bonsai.
從小開始。兩平方公尺的陽台也能種矮茶樹、養盆景。
Buy only one piece of jade you truly love rather than ten you merely covet.
只買一塊真心喜愛的玉，而非十塊貪圖的玉。
Brew tea at the same hour every day; rituals teach patience faster than philosophy books.
每日同一時刻泡茶；儀式比哲學書更快教會耐心。
Keep a notebook. Record the weather, the tea, the jade’s changing luster—one day the entries will read like love letters to yourself.
備一本筆記。記下天氣、茶味、玉色——有一天它們會像寫給自己的情書。

The friends who laughed at the eight-million-yuan “folly” still measure life in promotions and square footage downtown.
那些笑我花八百萬買「傻氣」的朋友，依舊用升遷與市中心坪數丈量人生。

I measure mine in cicada decibels, tea-stained pages, and the slow satin hush of jade against skin.
而我，用蟬鳴分貝、茶漬書頁，以及玉貼肌膚時緩慢的絲絨聲，計算我的富有。

And that, I believe, is what the ancient poets meant by “deep, deeper, deepest.”
我想，這就是古詩裡「深深深」的真正意思。

From 《花800万买一个小院，天天喝茶玩玉，朋友笑我疯，我笑他啥也不懂》

A Courtyard for Eight Million: Tea, Jade, and the Quiet Rebellion of Turning Forty