[Founder’s Journey] From a Small Hardware Workshop to a Leader in Ultrafiltration Water Purification: Sweat and Dreams Along the Way (Part 1)
(Serial No. 003)
My name is Zhuang Beikan, a man born in the 1970s from a small village in the Chaoshan region of Guangdong. I’m the founder of Shenzhen Chengrong Company. Starting as a tiny workshop with just a handful of workers, we’ve grown into one of China’s top three manufacturers of ultrafiltration membranes and integrated water purification systems. Over the past decade, Chengrong has become the trusted OEM partner for major domestic and international brands, growing alongside our collaborators.
What makes me proud is our team: 15 loyal shareholders who embody Chengrong’s values. They are experts across our factory’s divisions—from production line technicians to front line sales leaders and operational specialists. We maintain full control of our supply chain with zero outsourcing, a rarity in our industry. In ultrafiltration membrane technology and quality, we remain at the forefront. In 2023, we developed the world’s first ultrafiltration membrane capable of removing residual chlorine—an innovation no other factory has matched. Sixteen grueling yet rewarding years of entrepreneurship fill me with equal parts nostalgia and pride.
In 1993, fresh out of junior high, I was drawn to Shenzhen’s roaring development. As a wide-eyed teenager with big dreams but no real plan, I ditched further schooling and headed to Kengzi Town, where my sister worked as a supervisor at a garment factory. After a year of relentless work, my Hong Kong boss noticed my quick thinking and diligence, promoting me to team leader.
Looking back, those were carefree days. I’d hand my entire paycheck to my sister, trusting her to handle everything from meals to clothing—money management was never my concern. When she married years later, I wept, terrified of losing her care. But I needn’t have worried—her love and support never wavered.
Seeing my potential, my sister enrolled me in an accounting course at Kengzi Adult School. Though I was just a junior***ing the final exam with a 95% score—the highest in class. That confidence boost led me to complete adult high school afterward.
In 1997, when my brother-in-law launched a hardware factory, I joined him, beginning my lifelong bond with the industry—Chengrong still houses its own Hardware Mold and Stamping Departments today. At his factory, I wore every hat: purchaser, accountant, deliveryman, mold technician, machine operator. Many nights ended at 2 AM fixing molds, only to clock back in at 8 AM.
The work was exhausting but fulfilling. I thrived helping family while mastering every aspect of hardware production. Seven transformative years flew by—I married, started a family, learned to drive, and honed critical technical skills.
Yet all journeys evolve. In 2005, my idyllic chapter as an employee ended abruptly. A friend I’d met at the factory repeatedly urged me to start a business. After resisting (entrepreneurship had never crossed my mind), my sister and brother-in-law encouraged me to take the leap. Little did I know how thorny the path ahead would be...
Disaster struck within a year. My first venture collapsed, leaving me empty-handed and 30,000 yuan in debt. Unwilling to quit, I borrowed from my sister for two stamping machines and tried again. In 2007, a friend dangled an irresistible opportunity: a recurring 300,000-yuan monthly order.
Lacking capital, I partnered with an investor, renting a 1,000-square-meter tin-roofed workshop and equipping it—the humble birthplace of Chengrong. Even today, I still stare at photos from those gritty early days, haunted by their struggles.
The cruelest blow came after Lunar New Year 2008: our workshop stood ready, but my investor’s client delivered no orders. Worse, the investor himself withdrew due to his own financial woes. I was crushed with guilt—he’d trusted my vision. Determined to honor his faith, I assumed his entire investment as a personal loan, repaying it within three years.
My family protested fiercely—no funds, no orders, accepting this factory seemed suicidal. But I vowed to repay the debt even through manual labor if needed. Selling my parents’ home and scraping every penny, I hit rock bottom: my son dropped out of kindergarten for lack of tuition; landlords hounded us for rent (once, I scavenged drawers to find I was still 3 yuan short); workshop rent depended on favors.
Then, as if mocking my resolve, 2008’s strongest typhoon battered Shenzhen. Our tin shed crumpled—offices flooded, warehouse ruined, shutters torn. Standing in the storm, rain mixing with tears, I screamed at the sky: *"Why me? Bring it on!"* It remains the only time I’ve cried in 16 years of entrepreneurship.
To survive, we took any stamping job, including parts for ultrafiltration water purifiers. One such order introduced me to Mr. Yuan, a mold specialist whose partnership became pivotal. In 2009, I invited him to join Chengrong as a shareholder. His arrival marked a turning point—our operations transformed.
*(To be continued...)*
