A Wuyi lot, read through a northern cellar
Amgalan sources this rou gui through a long-standing contact in the Wuyi village of Tianxin, inside the protected zhengyan core zone. The bushes grow at around 480 metres on weathered volcanic scree, the soil that gives yancha its mineral signature — what local growers call yán yùn (rock rhyme). Picking happened in the first week of May 2026, slightly later than the headline harvest, when the leaves had thickened enough to hold a second firing without going hollow. The maker rested the tea four weeks between the first and second roast, a slower schedule than commercial lots but one Amgalan asks for specifically. He came to yancha sideways, through decades of work with aged pu-erh and Russian–Mongolian dark teas. That background shows in how he selects rou gui — he wants a tea that will keep evolving on the shelf for two or three years, not one that peaks the month it ships. The 2026 lot, he notes, is rougher at the edges than 2025: more spice, less obvious sweetness, but a steadier mineral spine. He recommends drinking half the sample now and resting the rest until autumn, then comparing. It is the same patience he applies to a beeng of sheng — only the timescale is shorter.