Within a few years of their arrival, the community realized that no private home could hold their growing congregation. In 1951, they began planning a proper mosque, raising funds from sources both local and distant — the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia contributed to the effort. They converted a Japanese-style house at No. 12, Lane 165, Zhongxiao Road in the South District, a modest 130-square-meter structure, into their first real place of worship. It was a beginning. But buildings age, and by April 1975, when the Saudi Minister of Transport paid a visit, the mosque was in complete disrepair. That inspection proved pivotal: Saudi funding soon followed, and the Chinese Muslim Association began planning a new mosque at an entirely new site.

Construction of the second mosque began in 1988. Six years later, in 1994, the complex on Dadun South Road in the Nantun District was complete — a three-storey building with an Islamic shop, an Islamic restaurant, dormitories for imams, classrooms, and a Muslim cemetery. The community had built not just a prayer hall but an institution. Then came renewal again: in September 2019, renovation plans were announced, this time drawing inspiration from Al-Masjid an-Nabawi, the Prophet's Mosque in Medina. By June 2020, the renovation was finished, and the mosque emerged transformed — its domes and minarets updated for a new generation. That same autumn, Chunghwa Post honoured it on a commemorative stamp alongside the Taipei Grand Mosque.

Two religious leaders shaped the mosque's modern character most visibly. In 1997, Shan Yaowu arrived from Myanmar to serve as imam. He had studied Islamic law at Al-Azhar University in Cairo — one of the oldest and most prestigious centres of Islamic scholarship in the world. Over four years, he preached more than fifty Friday sermons, then edited many of them into books distributed to mosques across Taiwan. In 2003, Bao Xiaolin joined as vice president of religious affairs, a graduate of the Islamic University of Madinah in Saudi Arabia. He devoted himself to encouraging young Taiwanese Muslims to come study the Quran and Arabic on weekends. Together, their tenures turned the mosque into a centre of education as much as worship.

Five daily prayers are held at the mosque — the rhythm that marks Islamic practice regardless of place or century. Eid prayers draw larger gatherings. But the mosque's reach extends beyond its congregation: the library hosts outreach programs for the broader public, introducing Taiwanese of all backgrounds to Islamic culture and history. The community that once squeezed into Qi Yulao's home now occupies a campus within walking distance of Nantun Station on the Taichung MRT. Its journey mirrors the longer story of Taiwan's Muslim community: displacement, persistence, and a faith rebuilt far from its origins.