As you might expect, this year has been “special” for all businesses due to COVID-19, which shook the global economy within just a few months.
When Kunming was locked down back in January, it wasn’t just restaurants and cinemas that had to close—tea shops and the entire tea market shut down as well. This dealt a severe blow to the tea business, especially since the closures happened right at the start of Chinese New Year, a peak season when shops typically rely on tourism for profit—tourism that simply didn’t happen.
Some tea market owners showed generosity by offering shop owners a month’s rent relief, but many others didn’t follow suit. By late February and early March, some shops and tea markets began reopening, albeit with strict restrictions in place. The most paranoid rule was that shop owners from Hubei province—despite not having left Kunming since the outbreak—were still barred from opening their shops, forcing them to endure an extra month of local stigma and hardship.
A QR code became mandatory at the entrance of every public place, and tea markets were no exception. Visitors had to use WeChat (China’s version of WhatsApp) to scan the code on entry for tracking purposes, and again upon exit with a separate “OUT” scan. Those without the app had to register manually in a logbook with their phone number—because, apparently, everyone had to be accounted for, no exceptions.

Of course the mandatory body temperature measuring and wearing the masks were introduced as well.

Masks became the main headache when the market reopened—after all, how are you supposed to enjoy tea with your mouth covered? Gradually, rules relaxed to wearing masks only at the entrance, allowing people to walk freely inside the market without them. By the end of May—after nearly two months without a single COVID-19 case in Kunming—around 80% of people had ditched masks altogether at the market.
Another crucial issue was the movement restrictions that prevented tea pickers from reaching the tea villages and gardens. Tea farmers usually rely on a small workforce, mostly family members, and hire laborers from other villages during the harvest season. But during the lockdown, many villages shuttered their gates to outsiders, trying to protect themselves from imported COVID-19 cases, leaving farmers severely short-handed at the worst possible time.

This situation has seriously impacted harvest volumes—and with that, the prices of mao cha—compounded by several years of persistent bad weather. The season has been very dry, a result of climate change combined with poor agricultural strategies, like the overplanting of gum trees. This has caused tea trees to sprout much later than usual, often right when the rainy season begins—or in some cases, the trees simply dry out and die.
As we’ve mentioned before, not many farmers put in the hard work to develop proper water supply solutions for their precious tea trees, and some locations are so remote that no easy solution exists. Instead, it’s far easier for them to post pictures of withered tea trees on social media and wallow in sympathy under hashtags like #PricesWillGoUpThisYear.

To add to that, Yiwu was recently battered by heavy rain accompanied by hailstones nearly the size of eggs. Local villagers’ houses—especially roofs—were damaged, and of course, the tea trees took a serious hit as well. Just how badly, we don’t know, but we’ve already heard farmers citing this as another reason for price increases. It’s safe to assume this is more of a convenient excuse than a genuine necessity.

So how has all this affected tea exporters like us? While I can’t speak for others, here’s how it has impacted our business:

1. Paranoia — When the first outbreak hit in January, paranoia spread like wildfire through posts and threads on forums and social media, with people asking, “Is it safe to order tea from China now?” Endless debates, wild assumptions, and unverified claims scared off many potential buyers without anyone bothering to check more reliable information. It wasn’t just about tea; some even claimed the virus could be transmitted via dry tea leaves. More broadly, there were rumors that the virus could survive for long periods—over 78 hours—in the cold, dry conditions of airplane cargo holds, threatening all exports from China. In response to these concerns, the WHO felt compelled to post an official statement on their Twitter account.

2. Shipping — Once the wave of paranoia finally eased, the next challenge emerged. Travel restrictions, country lockdowns, and a drop in orders from China paralyzed cargo movement worldwide. According to our logistics company, around 90% of flights were canceled, causing utter chaos: long queues of parcels stuck waiting to be loaded in airport cargo bays and delayed shipments. One air shipment we sent to Europe took a staggering 3.5 months to reach the customer—mostly because it sat idle at the airport for three months, stuck in an endless queue.

It took a few months before airlines began to address the problem, finally realizing just how much money they were losing by keeping business running without any incoming revenue. They started using their charter flights to transport parcels not only in the cargo hold but also in the passenger cabins—since there were no passengers to board. Since then, shipments have started moving again—slowly, but at least moving. Shipping fees surged, introducing what we jokingly called the “COVID-19 fee,” with significant increases in some countries, like an extra $12 per parcel to the US. We also had to turn to more expensive shipping options that we previously avoided due to cost. These express parcels were rerouted through export hubs without queues, surprisingly allowing delivery to Europe within a few weeks.

3. Economy — As things began to look a little brighter, the price to pay for the global lockdown—people simply not making money—came due. Unsurprisingly, most people had little cash to spare, and even the most enthusiastic tea drinkers had to dig into their old stock or buy small amounts from local vendors where the total price, including shipping, stayed within their tight budgets. Experiencing all this firsthand, it’s easy to lose motivation or any real urgency to buy fresh mao cha or pressed cakes for business. Still, we managed to purchase a small amount of the first harvest from Lao Wu Shan and waited to see what the second harvest would bring. By the end of May, farmers started posting hopeful pictures on local social media showing tea trees sprouting again, suggesting the second harvest might be even better than the first…

 

New concepts of processing

Not entirely a new development, but rather an evolution with more variations of existing processing techniques. One such variation involves extending the withering time for white tea, followed by a “ti xiang” — a high-temperature “roast” — at the end of the drying process. While the exact temperatures used remain a mystery, this method distinctly echoes the Fujian style of enhancing aroma and sweetness, which is clearly noticeable in the cup. The resulting tea is pleasant to drink and sells well, though it’s not suitable for long-term aging.

New concepts of marketing

Also, not exactly groundbreaking news, but suddenly popping up more often in local tea markets is Gushu Bai Cha—the “white tea from old arbor tea trees.” Now, not in every single case, but generally speaking, what they’re really offering is just some old tea leaves, or “lao ye,” snatched from any random arbor tea trees, then slapped with the white tea label… which, spoiler alert, involves almost zero effort since white tea demands the least processing of all. Of course, because it proudly sports the prestigious “Gushu” tag, marketing magic kicks in, and voilà—bigger price tag, bigger profit margin. More in Tea Marketing article.

The tea made from those leaves is actually quite pleasant—sweet and fruity—but more often than not, it lacks the depth and richness found in white tea varietals grown in Jinggu. From our perspective, Jinggu’s white tea stands a league above, offering far greater value both in leaf quality and in the overall enjoyment during a tea session.

More White Tea

Maybe it’s the high prices of Pu-erh, or perhaps we’re all just “over-puerhed” by now. Or maybe it’s the allure of easy money—since white tea is relatively simple to produce. I’m not quite sure, but it sure feels like every year white tea creeps more and more into the tea markets, gradually picking up hype and fancy marketing labels trying to ride Pu-erh’s coattails.

Tried white tea from Laobanzhang village. Can’t confirm if it was the real LBZ tea, and I definitely can’t say I experienced any special taste or magical body effect. But hey, the price tag had an extra zero compared to regular white teas—because, you know, fame apparently adds an invisible ingredient… and a whole lot more zeros.

 

Gao Gen Shu  – Tall (trunk) tea trees concept

Tea farmers have been doing this for years, but only recently have some tea vendors decided to turn it into a marketing concept. The farmers cut side branches off the tea trees and “encourage” them to grow upward instead of spreading out—helped along nicely by the surrounding tall forest trees. Now suddenly, it’s a selling point instead of just good old-fashioned farming technique.

More details in Tea Marketing

Wholesalers turn to retailers

As the header suggests, there’s a new trend in the local tea markets: tea bosses who for years were content being wholesalers—quietly supporting other tea businesses and tea shops—are now scrambling to pay the rent and have no choice but to jump into retail themselves. There are plenty of reasons behind the wholesale struggles, but the big picture isn’t hard to see: a slowing economy (COVID-19 didn’t help), more competitors popping up everywhere, and more customers cutting out the middleman by sourcing directly from tea farmers—even if they don’t actually save money, mostly because they don’t realize the real costs. Meanwhile, tea farm prices keep climbing, but the economy? Not so much—at least not in the wallets of most ordinary folks.

Near future?

I don’t have a crystal ball, but I’m confident the coming years will finally swing the advantage back to the customers—that’s you, tea drinkers. Prices from tea farmers will have to come down eventually, at least for those not carrying the big-name reputations like LBZ or Bing Dao, unless climate change causes serious harvest problems. Buying through middlemen as wholesale buyers might become even more appealing. We’re already rolling out new cooperation models and pricing strategies, and interestingly, many local suppliers haven’t followed the usual trend of raising Pu-erh prices—unlike the big factories, who pretty much have to, as we discussed in our other article about Pu-erh as an investment…..Factory Teas ) .

This is a great opportunity for overseas tea businesses to thrive, especially as major shipping delays continue to discourage many tea drinkers from buying directly from China. So, at least from our perspective, smart tea vendors will be stocking up before winter, when the dreaded second wave is expected. Tea often carries a medicinal reputation, and some vendors have already jumped on promoting tea—or specifically Pu-erh—as an effective Covid prevention. While we find that kind of marketing highly unethical (we avoid any health claims like the plague), it’s clear this tactic plays on buying psychology, and we expect overall tea sales might rise because of it.
More and more random Chinese sellers—not just established tea vendors—are trying to break into foreign markets using social networks and various selling platforms, creating fierce competition and driving prices down. Unfortunately, this flood of new sellers doesn’t seem to improve quality, as most stick to the time-honored belief that “cheaper is better.” So it’s tough to call whether this trend truly benefits the end customer.
In our opinion, it’s mainly making the overseas tea market messier, with reckless marketing claims flying around unchecked by any sort of ethical filter. This is exactly the problem that’s plagued the local market for years, and it’s only getting worse. Honest vendors, sourcing genuinely good tea, can’t compete with sellers hawking “authentic” products at less than half the price. As a result, they rely mostly on loyal customers or true tea connoisseurs who understand quality.
Meanwhile, many new tea drinkers start with cheap, “safe” investments and often end their journey there—concluding, “Pu-erh tea is just not for me.” More about in Fake Puerh article.

Hope

We sincerely hope the pandemic will end soon and that we all come away with valuable lessons from this challenging time. We also hope that not only our customers but the whole tea community will understand the unavoidable delivery delays—after all, shipping is completely out of the vendors’ control. Many vendors simply can’t afford to “eat the bullet” by refunding dozens of orders at once when their tea has been stuck in containers at ports for months. Patience and understanding go a long way as we navigate these unprecedented times together.