From Liuzhou’s glass quarter, by Michael Zhan
In the quiet blocks beyond Liuzhou’s steel bridges, there’s a cluster of workshops where glass has been blown for generations. Michael Zhan first visited on a sourcing trip in 2025, looking for something that could match the speed of a modern solo session without losing the ritual feel of gài wǎn. The workshop he found was small — three artisans, one glory hole, shelves lined with prototypes. Their specialty was thin walls: borosilicate vessels drawn to 1.2 mm thickness, a point where heat transfers in seconds rather than minutes. Michael spent two days testing shapes, lid fits, and pour speeds, discarding pieces that whistled or dripped. The final 80 ml version — just enough for a gōng fu round with a 5 g charge — was chosen for its balance of weightlessness and sturdy rim. Each piece is mouth-blown, then hand-finished to remove any sharpness from the lip. The result is a gaiwan that vanishes in use: you see only the tea.