Every room, checked.

A standing bar with eight taps of cold brew, which is a gimmick until you taste the Taiwanese one.

A busy corner by Fuzhong station with two floors and a permanent queue at noon.

A quiet house on a leafy street, with a garden and a strict no-calls rule.

At the far end of Wuxing Street, where the restaurants stop and the hill starts.

Roaster in the back, long tables in front. A laptop and a filter coffee can last an afternoon.

A narrow shop under the flyover, serving the flower market crowd on weekends.

A low wooden house from the military-village era, serving coffee and shaved ice.

A single room behind a bookshop, with six tables and no sign on the street.

An industrial room with three roasters running and a bar that closes when the last batch cools.