Fenghuang Dancong, a unique category of wulong tea grown in the crisp-aired Fenghuang (Phoenix) Mountains, weaves together tales of ancient legend, economic adaptation, and modern revival. Today, we’re journeying through the origins of Fenghuang Dancong — from the harrowing flight of Emperor Zhao Bing to the debut of Shui Xian at the Panama-Pacific World’s Fair — to show how both the tea and its people have transformed into the powerhouse we know today.

The Origin of Dancong in the Song Dynasty 

The true origins of Fenghuang Dancong are lost to time, so now myth and legend step in where history is silent. One such legend centers on Emperor Zhao Bing, the final ruler of the Song Dynasty. In 1279, the seven-year-old sovereign passed through Wudong Mountain while fleeing from his Mongolian enemies. Parched and on the brink of collapse, each step became more difficult. In a desperate bid to revive them, an attendant plucked fresh tea leaves from the mountainside and made a simple infusion. 

As Zhao Bing sipped the warm, bitter drink, he could feel his strength return to his arms and legs. In honor of the lifesaving drink, the emperor named the leaves “Song Cha” (宋茶 - Song Dynasty Tea), which we now know as “Song Zhong” (宋种 - The Song Dynasty Type). Seeing a large bird soaring overhead, he also renamed the surrounding peaks the “Phoenix Mountains.”

According to this myth, the emperor’s recognition marked the beginning of centuries of tea cultivation in the region, with a single powerful child as the catalyst.

The She People and Early Cultivation

Hundreds of years before Zhao Bing passed through Wudong Mountain, the She people (畲族) — an ancient group celebrated for their agricultural prowess and rich folklore — called the Fenghuang Mountains their home. Though scattered across China today, the She still regards the Fenghuang Mountains as their ancestral home. Realistically, they were probably the first to plant tea trees on the slopes of these mountains. 

The She people have a traditional story about their dog-headed god, Pan Hu (盘瓠), and his brother Wu Long (吴龙). Wu Long, whose name echoes the word ‘wulong’ (乌龙), the Chinese word for oolong tea, transformed himself into a lush vine. Wu Long inadvertently entangled Pan Hu, killing him. Overcome with grief and remorse, Wu Long metamorphosed into a tea bush as an act of atonement — becoming the very first tea tree in the Fenghuang mountains while he was at it.

To this day, the phoenix adorns She totems throughout China, a possible visual allusion to their ancestral mountains. Although many of the She population migrated to other regions of China during the Tang Dynasty, a small number have remained in the Fenghuang Mountains. A community of about 300 people continues to live in Shiguping Village, nestled in the shadow of the Phoenix Mountains.

A Step Back From Stories

These intertwined legends — of emperors and gods — paint a rich tapestry over Fenghuang Dancong’s unknown true origins. While the tale of Emperor Zhao Bing paints a tale of royal approval, the She people’s stories hint at a more ancient beginning of tea cultivation in these mountains. Their presence predates emperor Zhao Bing by centuries, suggesting they may have been the true pioneers of tea cultivation in the region.

It is also possible that the legends involving Emperor Zhao Bing were layered upon existing She traditions and stories. Or both tales are stories told by people living in more contemporary times about the distant past. We should read them more as traditions and less as history. Without archaeological and written evidence, they are all we have to rely on.

1900–1950: An Early Golden Age

The early 20th century was the first golden age for Fenghuang’s teas. In 1915, amid the Republic of China era uproar, the Fenghuang Chunming Tea Company defied expectations by introducing their beloved Shui Xian to the larger world. They sent just over one kilogram (2 斤) to the Panama-Pacific International Exposition in San Francisco—a world’s fair brimming with inventions, lights, automobile races, and imported foods from around the globe. They shipped the Liberty Bell from Philadelphia and constructed a telephone line from California to New York. This world’s fair, held to celebrate the opening of the Panama Canal, was an opportunity to showcase the cultural achievements of each participating nation.

With its fragrant and toasted leaves, Shui Xian was a stark contrast to the bitter and robust teas from Ceylon and India at the time. It won a silver medal, enchanting judges and capturing the curiosity of passersby. At this moment, Shui Xian’s reputation bloomed beyond China’s borders, and it stepped onto the world stage. 

By the 1930s, entrepreneurs from Chaozhou were venturing across seas, establishing over 50 tea shops throughout Cambodia, Vietnam, and Thailand. These shops must have been fascinating cultural crossroads, introducing teas from the Fenghuang Mountains to local drinkers. These were boom years for the local tea industry, marked by growth and expansion. 

However, the good years could not last forever. The early 1940s brought a series of devastating blows. An unexpected frost ravaged the tea crops, a severe drought and famine followed, and rampant inflation destroyed the economy. The market was in a state of total collapse. By 1948, the once-lush tea fields were reduced to just over 400 acres, with many left abandoned and overgrown. The once-thriving industry was on the brink of extinction.

1950–2000: Rebuilding and Reviving

In the years after the turmoil, a spirit of resilience took root in the Phoenix Mountains. The second half of the 20th century saw China undergoing significant policy transformations, and things were no different in the Fenghuang Region. Recognizing the importance of their cultural history and eager to kickstart their economy, local leaders and farmers came together to breathe life back into the withered fields.

They established a centralized hub for processing and selling Dancong tea, ensuring quality and consistency that had slipped during the tumultuous years. Small village cooperatives emerged in Wuchong, Daping, Dongjiao, and Fengxi — working communities where knowledge was shared, resources pooled, and traditions reanimated. Elders taught the younger generation the practices of teamaking, and a new generation began work.

In the aftermath of hardship, a spirit of resilience took root in the Phoenix Mountains. The second half of the 20th century saw China undergoing significant policy transformations, and Fenghuang’s tea industry stood at the cusp of revival. Recognizing their heritage’s cultural and economic importance, local leaders and farmers united to breathe life into the withered fields.

The central government’s designation of Fenghuang Dancong as a “special product” marked a turning point. They set its price higher than any other Chinese wulong tea, validating the persistent effort of the community. By the 1980s, the region boasted approximately 3,300 acres of thriving tea plantations — a remarkable turn-around from the sparse, abandoned fields of just a few decades before.

2000–Present: A New Renaissance

Fenghuang Dancong has not just survived but thrived in the 21st century. Local farmers light up when talking about how their teas are gaining increasing interest in Japan, Europe, and North America. One farmer shared how he now takes yearly flights to Japan to share his work with their tea companies, which distribute his teas abroad. As he described these opportunities, his enthusiasm made it clear: optimism is back in the mountain air.

Tea tourism has blossomed, transforming the Phoenix Mountains into a destination for enthusiasts. Visitors drive winding roads along terraced fields, breathe in the crisp atmosphere, and partake in Chaozhou-style gongfu tea. The 2008 designation as the “Hometown of Famous Chinese Tea” and the opening of the Fenghuang Dancong Tea Museum in 2021 have further elevated the region’s profile, with a centralized place where people can come to learn the history and culture of this region’s tea.

Among the many Dancong varieties, Ya Shi Xiang — or “Duck Shit Aroma”— has now outshone the former favorite, Shui Xian. Despite its disturbing name, the tea’s mellow and creamy flavor turns nonbelievers into acolytes. It’s a playful nod to folklore, showcasing the community’s humor and confidence in their teas. As Professor Zhang Tianfu, a respected 98-year-old tea scholar from Fujian Agricultural University, remarked during his first visit to Wudong Village, “凤凰单丛茶，清香满天涯” — “Phoenix Dancong Tea, its pure and delicate fragrance reaches the furthest corners of the world.”

Sources

• “茶乡概说.”潮州凤凰单丛茶博物馆, 凤凰镇. October 2024.
• “广东凤凰山是公认的畲族祖居地…” 潮州凤凰单丛茶博物馆, 凤凰镇. October 2024.
• “近代凤凰茶叶大事记.” 潮州凤凰单丛茶博物馆, 凤凰镇. October 2024.
• 徐馨雅, editor. 茶道 茶艺 茶经 (Tea Ceremony, Tea Art, Tea Classic). 中国华侨出版社, 2014.
• “The Ancient Trees & Lore of Feng Huang Shan.” Tea Drunk, 18 Apr. 2023, www.teadrunk.com/blogs/educational-articles/the-ancient-trees-lore-of-feng-huang-shan.

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