My name is Chen Xianchun. I am from Wenzhou, China.

My father started making trophies and medals in Wenzhou in 1990. For as long as I can remember, our home smelled of metal and paint, and the workshop was always full of sound — grinding, polishing, and the quiet rhythm of craftsmen at work. Other children grew up with dolls. I grew up with shelves of gleaming trophies — my father's life work.

As a child, I was trouble. The kind of daughter who made her parents worry. I climbed over the workshop wall after school to watch the masters polish medals. I "borrowed" my father's precious samples for make-believe ceremonies and awarded them to my friends like treasures. He never really scolded me. He would just sigh, wipe the trophy clean, put it back on the shelf, and go back to work. Back then I only thought it was fun. Only later did I understand — those trophies he kept polishing were the heaviest things in his heart.

Growing up, I began to truly read my father. He had given his whole life to that factory, not for money, but because he carried a dream for more than thirty years: to see trophies made in Wenzhou, China, standing on the world's podiums. He was a man of few words, but he treated every single order as a piece of his soul. I was proud of him. And I ached for how hard he worked.

Then I met Ye Demu. He is open-minded, bold, and decisive — my equal in every way. When we got together, I told him my father's dream. He didn't hesitate. He just asked me: "Then what can we do for your father?"

That one question led us to a bold decision: build our own factory in Yiwu. Yiwu is the place closest to the world. We thought — if my father's craft had taken root in Wenzhou, let it grow wings in Yiwu. Together, the two of us could make his dream run faster. So we left Wenzhou and built JinZun brick by brick. My father's foundation became our roots; Yiwu gave us eyes on the world.

I never sold products. I built a brand.

People often ask me: why do you have so many returning customers? I have thought about this for a long time. The answer is simple — I was never selling products. I was building a brand.

A trophy can be made cheaply: thinner plating, weaker metal, blurry printing — an outsider would never notice. But I know that every trophy leaving JinZun will stand on someone's podium, caught in the spotlight, watched by a crowd, held in someone's hands and remembered for a lifetime. I will not let the name JinZun lose its shine on my watch.

So we treat every order the way my father treated his samples: full materials, honest work, and a final check before anything ships. Our customers are never just buying "a trophy." They are buying "that moment of glory." We never dare to be careless with that.

I teach my children the same things my father taught me: be honest, be grateful. JinZun does not belong only to our family. It belongs to every customer who trusts us — and to every child, athlete, teacher, and entrepreneur who holds one of our awards in their hands.

Today, my father still walks through the workshop, watching trophies come to life from drawings. The light in his eyes is exactly what I saw as a little girl. And at last, I have become the daughter he is proud of.

From Wenzhou to Yiwu, from 1990 to today — two generations, one craft: making every trophy right. Because everyone who lives their life seriously deserves to be rewarded beautifully.