Today, we are resuming our series on famous mountains and villages, which has been on hold for nearly a year. In this episode, we will talk about Bohetang in the Yiwu production area. There are many stories about Bohetang now, and in fact, many of these legends have been commercially packaged and hyped up. The current hot topic, Lüshuitang, is much the same; it's merely Xiaomolie from the Mengku West Hills renamed. But since it was called Lüshuitang, the price has more than doubled.
Bohetang
The name Bohetang did not exist 20 years ago. To the best of my recollection, the name Bohetang first appeared in the Tea market around 2010. At the time, it wasn't popular at all, very niche, and rarely seen in the market. When I first heard about this tea, I found it quite interesting—it gave the impression that after drinking it, one would feel a cooling sensation in the mouth as if they had eaten mint. In 2014, with the help of a local tea farmer, we went to Bohetang and discovered that it is part of the Wengong production area. Back then, the roads there were incredibly difficult to navigate—there was no vehicle access. Even today, it's still a dirt road, and there's no direct road access to its core production area. Nowadays, you drive into the mountains for about three to four kilometers, then switch to a motorcycle. If you walk, it would be a challenge for city dwellers who don't exercise regularly—I estimate it would take more than two hours. When we went there, we walked the entire way, and it took us a whole day to return to Wengong Village.
The origin of Bohetang likely came from a group of tea merchants who tasted the tea there about 20 years ago. They found it had good aftertaste, fine water texture, and unique tea aroma, with a wild flavor reminiscent of the forest. Crucially, after a few infusions, one would indeed feel a cooling sensation in the mouth, much like having eaten mint candy. The overall quality was excellent, so they asked the tea farmers to take them into the mountains to see the tea fields. Upon arrival, they found that the environment was indeed good—the Soil was sandy mixed with weathered rock (broken rocks), and the surrounding forest was dense. At the time, no one was planting tea trees there, so what they tasted was high-stem tea from the forest. So, these tea merchants decided to lease a small piece of land at a low cost and commissioned local tea farmers to plant tea seedlings and manage the tea fields, paying rent and management fees to the farmers every year.
As everyone knows, tea trees can be harvested after three years of planting, but the yield is not high. For a more desirable yield, you need to wait around five years. The tea picked needed a name, so these clever tea merchants named it “Bohetang” based on its characteristics—a name that evokes vivid imagery. What was this place called before?—Herbal Fruit Field. Yes, the traditional specialty there was herbal fruit. Interestingly, when you hear the name Herbal Fruit Field and recall the real Bohetang tea you've tasted, does it really have a hint of herbal fruit fragrance? This may be due to psychological suggestion, but I do taste a bit of it.
Although the name Bohetang appeared in the market, its appearance did not mean market recognition. At the time, the market was not enthusiastic about mountain or village teas, so it could only be sold under the name of Yiwu tea. Later, it appeared in the market under the name of Wengong tea. Its turning point to fame occurred in 2010. After 2010, the market began to hype up mountain and village teas, and 2010 also marked the recovery of the Pu'er tea market. After three years of downturn, the entire market started to recover significantly, with an increasing number of buyers. The concept of ancient tree tea also began to emerge around that time. Under these conditions, the name Bohetang became increasingly well-known! It cannot be denied that the level of operation by those tea merchants was very high. If they hadn't named it Bohetang and kept the original name, Herbal Fruit Field, would it have achieved its current market status? I doubt it.
The ancient tree teas of Bohetang are high-stem teas from within the great forest, the so-called Category 1 teas, but their yield is extremely low—less than 80 kilograms of Spring Tea per year. The tea trees planted by those tea merchants are now 20 years old. Can you guess what category they fall into now?