Our factory did not begin with capital, technology, or connections.
It began with 500 RMB, borrowed trust, and a pair of skilled hands.
Our story starts with my grandfather.
In the early days of China’s Reform and Opening-up, when private businesses were still rare and risky, he made a decision few dared to make — to leave stability behind and build something of his own.
At that time, he had only 500 RMB, which was nearly our entire family’s annual living expense. The rest of the startup funds were gathered from neighbors and relatives who trusted him as a man before trusting him as a businessman.
With that modest capital, he founded a tiny workshop called “Zhenhua Rubber Sole Workshop.”
We made only one product: rubber soles for traditional Beijing cloth shoes.
No brand. No marketing. No shortcuts.
Only one rule: the sole must last longer than the shoe.
My grandfather was the first worker in the factory.
He shaped, trimmed, pressed, and inspected every sole by hand. In an era when reputation traveled faster than advertising, his craftsmanship and integrity slowly brought more orders.
As orders increased, my grandfather reinvested every earned yuan back into the workshop.
The first “big asset” of the factory was a Shanghai-made C620 lathe — heavy, noisy, and dangerous by today’s standards, but at that time it represented precision and possibility.
He never cut wages, never compromised materials, and never rushed delivery at the cost of quality.
Suppliers came not because we were cheap, but because our products caused fewer complaints and fewer returns.
When he encountered techniques he didn’t understand, he didn’t guess.
He packed dry food, boarded a green train, and spent two days and two nights traveling to state-owned factories in Shenyang, seeking guidance from senior master craftsmen. Blisters on his hands, sleepless nights, and repeated failures were simply part of the learning process.
Gradually, the factory expanded its capabilities — from rubber soles to eyelets, metal components, and eventually more complex mold parts.
The old C620 was replaced by a CA6140 lathe, safer and more precise.
The workshop began to look like a real factory.
Just as everything seemed to move forward, the market changed.
Sports shoes replaced traditional cloth shoes almost overnight. Demand for rubber soles collapsed.
Our warehouse filled with hundreds of thousands of unsold soles.
Cash flow stopped. Wages were delayed.
For the first time, closing the factory became a real possibility.
That winter, my grandfather’s hair turned gray almost overnight.
At the brink of collapse, an old memory returned.
During his earlier training in Northeast China, my grandfather had learned that Russia’s climate created a strong demand for cold-resistant, anti-slip footwear materials. Our rubber soles — flexible at low temperatures, deeply patterned, and highly durable — were unintentionally perfect for it.
He returned to Shenyang once more.
There, he met a fellow villager deeply involved in Russia–China trade — a woman who understood both the market and the people. She listened to his story, studied our products, and made practical suggestions:
deeper anti-slip patterns
reinforced wear layers in key areas
adjustments based on extreme cold conditions
She stood beside him, helped connect buyers, and even accompanied him to Manzhouli Port.
That entire “unsellable inventory” was purchased in one order.
The factory survived.
Later, that woman became my grandmother.
From that moment on, the roles were clear.
My grandfather focused entirely on production quality and process control.
My grandmother focused on market insight, overseas demand, and trade relationships.
One guarded the factory floor.
The other watched the world outside the gate.
Under this division of responsibility, the factory entered its first real growth phase — expanding capacity, improving consistency, and building long-term relationships with overseas partners, especially in Russia.
My grandfather often said:
“Running a factory is a matter of conscience.
Cutting corners saves money today, but costs reputation tomorrow.
We are here to do honest, long-term business.”
Those words became the foundation of our company culture.
When the factory passed to my father, the original strategy continued and worked — for a time.
But as the world moved into the digital era, the rules changed again.
E-commerce, online branding, short-form content, and direct global communication reshaped how buyers searched for suppliers.
Traditional factories, focused only on production, struggled to adapt.
New clients were hard to reach.
Old clients were harder to keep.
The factory was stable — but stagnant.
Last year, the factory was passed to me.
I grew up in a different era.
I understand short videos, online storytelling, and how buyers around the world search for partners today.
I believe manufacturing deserves to be seen, not hidden behind walls.
Through the internet, we can now show:
how products are made
how standards are enforced
and who stands behind every shipment
But one thing will never change.
The principles passed down from my grandfather —
honesty, craftsmanship, and responsibility — remain non-negotiable.
I am Fleyf.
A young owner of a factory with over 40 years of real manufacturing history.
If you are looking for footwear or apparel products built on experience, discipline, and long-term thinking —
we would be honored to work with you.
Our sales will respond you within 24 hours
