The 1990 Zhongcha "Wild Raw" may be a literal character-for-character translation of "yesheng", which actually just means "wild-grown". The leaves, shown above, are dusty and orange, in the "very knackered" style of old zhuancha [brick tea]. This is also suggested by the large number of huangpian [yellow flakes], which are normally not present in bingcha but which appear in zhuancha. Amusingly, the huangpian look more like red flakes.
This is a friendly, warm, and comforting old tea. It tastes old, with its smooth, edgeless profile, and it tastes sweet, with the vanilla of old bookcases, if such a thing exists. The "knackered" feeling exerts itself again as we notice that it takes a good few infusions to reach full speed. I am happy to be kind to this old tea, and to give it the extended duration in the teapot that it requires in order to deliver a full brew. I am in no hurry, and this charming old fellow is very appealing.
This isn't the sort of cake that should attract a high price - it was probably exceedingly inexpensive when young. It is not for sale, however, and perhaps that is for the best. I can instead concentrate on the warming feeling it has placed in my belly, and in the fluffy, fully texture in the mouth. There is no real huigan, but it would be churlish to demand one of such a tired, comforting tea.
I am always impressed by the wide range of experiences that one may have at the tea-table.