I’ve always felt that my life was never a series of accidents. Looking back, everything seems predestined. I didn’t understand it then; I just walked the path, felt the pain, and endured the struggle.
Today, I finally realize: my relationship with crayons and creation isn't just business. It is a life's mission—one built on love, dreams, and a debt I can never fully repay.
1. Grandma and the Wooden Floor
When I was two, I tripped on the wooden floor. My grandmother didn’t scold me; instead, she "hit" the floor, blaming it for being too slippery. That was my first lesson in love. To be loved isn't to be lectured—it is to have someone take your side against the world when you are hurting.
Years later, when I struggled to draw, I wished someone would blame the crayons for me. No one did. So, I whispered to myself: "It’s not my fault. It’s the crayons' fault." That was the seed. I decided then: I will become the Crayon King.
2. Four Words on the Wall
I wasn't a "smart" kid. At age ten, after a beating from my father for poor grades, I did something strange. In my anger and grief, I wrote four words on the wall: Crayon King. It wasn’t a childhood whim; it was a prophecy written by fate.
3. The $20,000 Gamble
My mother, an engineer at the China Pencil No. 2 Factory, poured our family’s life savings—$20,000—into a crayon startup. It failed. The market said: "No one needs this. It won't sell."
My mother told me: "Son, I lost your wedding money. You have two choices: live the rest of your life with these crayons, or figure out how to turn them into a future." From that day on, those crayons weren't just inventory. They were my life.
4. 18 and Under the Sun
In 1992, at eighteen, I wasn't doing "business"—I was fighting for survival. I spent my days peddling unbranded crayons to kindergartens under the scorching sun. I was rejected and chased away. It wasn't just hard; it was humiliating.
But then, a kindergarten in Xuhui bought 100 boxes. Another bought 300. Those 400 boxes gave me my first breath of hope. I learned that if you keep running, the road eventually opens.
5. Two Tricycles and a Check
I once spent a whole semester selling only 400 boxes out of a 3,000-box inventory. The pressure was crushing. Finally, a client in Changning gave me a chance. I hauled two tricycles full of crayons to her office.
When she said there was no room, I told her: "Just give me two inches of space." I stacked those boxes all the way to the ceiling and smiled: "I’m done." She handed me a check. I walked home wondering: Is this the 'future' my mother promised?
6. The Three-Cent Lesson
I began to listen to the teachers. They didn’t want "a box of crayons"; they wanted 100 reds, 30 blues, and 90 greens. Each crayon sold for 30 cents (0.3 RMB). I realized: Customers don't buy what you think they need; they buy what they actually use.
7. Living Three Lives
From 1996 to 1998, I worked for three people at once:
6:00 AM: Visiting schools across Shanghai.
1:00 PM: Working the assembly line at the factory, driving rivets and screws.
Evening: Studying Marketing at university until 10:00 PM.
I didn't conquer the market because I was a good talker. I conquered it because I outworked everyone.
8. The Pivot: "Upgrade the Crayon"
By 1999, the market shifted. People wanted vibrant oil pastels, not dull crayons. My sales plummeted. My mentor, Li Weiyi, gave me the answer: "The market doesn't hate crayons; it hates dull colors. If you make a crayon as vibrant as oil but as clean as a crayon, you win."
The old answer was dead. The new answer was innovation.
9. The Breakthrough
In 2000, my father—a former physics professor—called me: "I’ve built a prototype." We redesigned everything.
When the first batch's tips kept breaking, I didn't just despair—I analyzed. I found a structural flaw in the injection molding. I moved the glue entry point from the side to the tip. In the next test, only one broke. My product had finally passed the test of reality.
10. From Imitation to Invention
I started looking at global brands like Pilot. Their products were beautiful but too expensive and used impractical refills. I asked myself: Can I do it better?
Inspired by a twist-up lipstick tube, I designed a double-helix structure that allowed for one-time filling and three times the output. I stopped copying. I started inventing.
11. 0688 and the "Silk Crayon"
In 2006, I launched product 0688. It became a massive hit, breaking sales records until the molds literally wore out. Then came the Silk Crayon. At the 2010 World Expo, it became an industry legend.
Competitors started calling their products "Silk Crayons" too. I let them. Then, I stepped out and said: "Actually, that's my registered trademark." I didn't just win on product; I won on authority.
12. The 60-Acre Dream
By 2011, I was leveraging everything I had. I bought a factory in Kunshan with only 5 million RMB, carrying 9 million in debt. By 2016, I saw a 60-acre site. It was $43 million—way beyond my means. I mortgaged my homes and fought for it.
People thought I was crazy, but I knew: This is where my legacy belongs.
13. The Crayon Museum
In 2019, I began building a Crayon Museum—a 6,000-square-meter space to honor the art of creation. Then COVID hit. A 16-month project turned into 30 months. I nearly lost everything.
At my lowest, the government stepped in to lease the space as a tech park, saving my cash flow. I’ve been to the peak and the valley, and I finally understand: Crayons are dreams. They are the power of a person to express, create, and change their fate.
Conclusion: A Life Written in Color
My life didn’t start with selling. It started with being loved. It started with a grandmother hitting a floor and a boy writing "Crayon King" on a wall.
I took a pile of "wedding money" and traded it for a future, a factory, and a mission. I finally realize that I am not just a businessman. I am here to turn love into something tangible—to create tools that help people feel understood and empowered to create.
Crayons were never just crayons. They are my life, and they are my dream.
I’ve always felt that my life was never a series of accidents. Looking back, everything seems predestined. I didn’t understand it then; I just walked the path, felt the pain, and endured the struggle.
Today, I finally realize: my relationship with crayons and creation isn't just business. It is a life's mission—one built on love, dreams, and a debt I can never fully repay.
1. Grandma and the Wooden Floor
When I was two, I tripped on the wooden floor. My grandmother didn’t scold me; instead, she "hit" the floor, blaming it for being too slippery. That was my first lesson in love. To be loved isn't to be lectured—it is to have someone take your side against the world when you are hurting.
Years later, when I struggled to draw, I wished someone would blame the crayons for me. No one did. So, I whispered to myself: "It’s not my fault. It’s the crayons' fault." That was the seed. I decided then: I will become the Crayon King.
2. Four Words on the Wall
I wasn't a "smart" kid. At age ten, after a beating from my father for poor grades, I did something strange. In my anger and grief, I wrote four words on the wall: Crayon King. It wasn’t a childhood whim; it was a prophecy written by fate.
3. The $20,000 Gamble
My mother, an engineer at the China Pencil No. 2 Factory, poured our family’s life savings—$20,000—into a crayon startup. It failed. The market said: "No one needs this. It won't sell."
My mother told me: "Son, I lost your wedding money. You have two choices: live the rest of your life with these crayons, or figure out how to turn them into a future." From that day on, those crayons weren't just inventory. They were my life.
4. 18 and Under the Sun
In 1992, at eighteen, I wasn't doing "business"—I was fighting for survival. I spent my days peddling unbranded crayons to kindergartens under the scorching sun. I was rejected and chased away. It wasn't just hard; it was humiliating.
But then, a kindergarten in Xuhui bought 100 boxes. Another bought 300. Those 400 boxes gave me my first breath of hope. I learned that if you keep running, the road eventually opens.
5. Two Tricycles and a Check
I once spent a whole semester selling only 400 boxes out of a 3,000-box inventory. The pressure was crushing. Finally, a client in Changning gave me a chance. I hauled two tricycles full of crayons to her office.
When she said there was no room, I told her: "Just give me two inches of space." I stacked those boxes all the way to the ceiling and smiled: "I’m done." She handed me a check. I walked home wondering: Is this the 'future' my mother promised?
6. The Three-Cent Lesson
I began to listen to the teachers. They didn’t want "a box of crayons"; they wanted 100 reds, 30 blues, and 90 greens. Each crayon sold for 30 cents (0.3 RMB). I realized: Customers don't buy what you think they need; they buy what they actually use.
7. Living Three Lives
From 1996 to 1998, I worked for three people at once:
6:00 AM: Visiting schools across Shanghai.
1:00 PM: Working the assembly line at the factory, driving rivets and screws.
Evening: Studying Marketing at university until 10:00 PM.
I didn't conquer the market because I was a good talker. I conquered it because I outworked everyone.
8. The Pivot: "Upgrade the Crayon"
By 1999, the market shifted. People wanted vibrant oil pastels, not dull crayons. My sales plummeted. My mentor, Li Weiyi, gave me the answer: "The market doesn't hate crayons; it hates dull colors. If you make a crayon as vibrant as oil but as clean as a crayon, you win."
The old answer was dead. The new answer was innovation.
9. The Breakthrough
In 2000, my father—a former physics professor—called me: "I’ve built a prototype." We redesigned everything.
When the first batch's tips kept breaking, I didn't just despair—I analyzed. I found a structural flaw in the injection molding. I moved the glue entry point from the side to the tip. In the next test, only one broke. My product had finally passed the test of reality.
10. From Imitation to Invention
I started looking at global brands like Pilot. Their products were beautiful but too expensive and used impractical refills. I asked myself: Can I do it better?
Inspired by a twist-up lipstick tube, I designed a double-helix structure that allowed for one-time filling and three times the output. I stopped copying. I started inventing.
11. 0688 and the "Silk Crayon"
In 2006, I launched product 0688. It became a massive hit, breaking sales records until the molds literally wore out. Then came the Silk Crayon. At the 2010 World Expo, it became an industry legend.
Competitors started calling their products "Silk Crayons" too. I let them. Then, I stepped out and said: "Actually, that's my registered trademark." I didn't just win on product; I won on authority.
12. The 60-Acre Dream
By 2011, I was leveraging everything I had. I bought a factory in Kunshan with only 5 million RMB, carrying 9 million in debt. By 2016, I saw a 60-acre site. It was $43 million—way beyond my means. I mortgaged my homes and fought for it.
People thought I was crazy, but I knew: This is where my legacy belongs.
13. The Crayon Museum
In 2019, I began building a Crayon Museum—a 6,000-square-meter space to honor the art of creation. Then COVID hit. A 16-month project turned into 30 months. I nearly lost everything.
At my lowest, the government stepped in to lease the space as a tech park, saving my cash flow. I’ve been to the peak and the valley, and I finally understand: Crayons are dreams. They are the power of a person to express, create, and change their fate.
Conclusion: A Life Written in Color
My life didn’t start with selling. It started with being loved. It started with a grandmother hitting a floor and a boy writing "Crayon King" on a wall.
I took a pile of "wedding money" and traded it for a future, a factory, and a mission. I finally realize that I am not just a businessman. I am here to turn love into something tangible—to create tools that help people feel understood and empowered to create.
Crayons were never just crayons. They are my life, and they are my dream.
