LIU Genmin hunches over his workbench, left hand pinching a gold pen nib blank, right hand steadying a tiny file. He leans in close, squinting through a magnifying glass, then pushes, scrapes and pulls back to inspect his work — again and again. Fine metal dust drifts downward in wispy lines and a faint grinding sound fills the small workshop.

For Liu, it’s a routine he’s repeated for 38 years, shaping gold pen nibs with painstaking precision.

Now 57, Liu heads the nib-making team at Shanghai Hero Pen Factory, home to the iconic 94-year-old Hero brand, a staple in China for both steel and gold pens, including the prestigious writing instruments gifted to dignitaries at major state events.

Crafting a single Hero gold nib is a 35-step labor. Workers start by forming and trimming the metal blank, then carefully contour its curve. Next comes welding a minuscule iridium tip to the nib’s point — the key to its smooth, long-lasting glide. Then they cut the delicate slit that regulates ink flow. Each step dictates how the pen will move on paper.

Liu learned this work in 1987 at age 19. His master handed him a file and one rule: “The nib is the soul of the pen. A mistake of just a few millimeters will destroy it.”

Failure came fast and often in those early days. By the end of his first shift alone, Liu had filled a metal box with rejected nibs. He kept that box, and today it holds more than 300 flawed pieces.

“These are my teachers,” he said. “Each one shows a mistake.”

To master the exact pressure needed for filing, Liu practiced until his fingers blistered; he wrapped them in tape and continued. When his peers repeated an exercise 10 times, he did it 50. Even when a nib looked “good enough,” he’d file a little more, just to test its limits and ensure perfection.

A decade ago, the arrival of mass-produced fountain pen nibs sent shockwaves through China’s traditional pen-making workshops. With a single production line churning out tens of thousands of nibs daily, veteran craftspeople feared their centuries-old handcraft would be consigned to history’s dustbin.

Existential threat

For Liu, with 20 years of experience in the trade, the existential threat spurred not surrender — but reinvention.

“Technology can take over the brute labor of the craft,” he said, “but it can never replace the core skill — the intuition, precision and care that turns a piece of metal into a nib that writes smoothly, lasts for decades and feels personal in the hand.”

Liu knew early on that clinging to tradition alone would not save the craft, so he formed a “nib innovation group” in the factory, a bold bid to marry time-honored techniques with modern efficiency.

Their first target was the iridium rolling process, a make-or-break step that fuses a tiny, wear-resistant iridium pellet to the nib’s tip. For generations, the process had taken 72 painstaking hours: Craftspeople would heat, press and temper the metal by hand, producing consistent, high-quality results but at a glacial pace that could not compete with factory lines.

Liu’s team ran countless experiments, tweaking everything from the ratio of metal powders in the alloy to the shape of the rolling drum and the speed of its rotation, and finally cut the time to 24 hours.

He then tackled the polishing of the iridium point. This step had long depended on the craftsman’s steady hand and trained eye. It took time and produced uneven results.

Liu observed the wear under a magnifying glass. He adjusted abrasives and angles. Once, he worked 36 hours without a full break to test a new formula. The team later achieved both stable quality and higher output.

The workshop keeps a special gold pen behind glass. It is the 18K-gold pen used for the 1997 Hong Kong handover ceremony. The nib is Liu’s work.

The factory received the order in late 1996. The design required a large nib with a commemorative emblem covering two-thirds of its surface. Machines at the time could not reach that level of precision, so the process returned to handcraft.

Liu volunteered for the job.

“It stands for the nation. We must do it well,” he insisted.

He and his team designed new molds, tested tool adjustments and built a special hand-tool attachment to fix the alignment problem. He checked every nib himself and wrote with each one to test flow and smoothness.

When the pen appeared at the signing ceremony, Liu stood in front of a television and felt relief. “We left a Hero mark at the historical moment,” he said.

Hero pens have since appeared at major events, including Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) meetings and the 50th anniversary of the People’s Republic of China. Many models have become national gifts in diplomatic exchanges.

Foundational discipline

Liu’s legacy extends beyond the nibs he’s made himself: he has trained 26 apprentices over the course of his career, using a rigorous teaching philosophy that prioritizes foundational discipline over quick skill-building.

“First learn how to be steady,” he tells them. Apprentices begin with filing straight lines on a piece of metal. Only later can they touch pen nibs.

Hou Jianliang, one of Liu’s apprentices, remembers failing many times. Liu, Hou recalled, showed him his own box of rejected nibs and explained the cause of each error.

Some leaked ink because the slit was too deep, others dragged because the arc was off. Liu often stayed late with him until he completed his first qualified nib.

Liu also wrote a handbook summarizing 38 years of work. It details each step and the common faults. He shares all techniques openly.

“If my students surpass me, the craft grows. That is good,” Liu said.

Many of his students now serve as technical leads in the pen-tip workshop.

Hero pens remain familiar objects in China. The brand dates back to 1931. For generations, a Hero fountain pen marked school milestones and career beginnings. The gold nib, made with handwork and precise tools, reflects a writing culture that values patience and care.

In recent years, Hero has introduced new designs — from panda-themed pens to co-branded cultural sets — which drew attention at the 8th China International Import Expo in November in Shanghai. Still, every model depends on the quality of the nib.

Liu said he plans to continue arranging his notes and guiding younger workers. He also aims to solve a few more technical problems.

“Real craftsmanship does not mean resisting change,” he said.

“Craftsmanship means spending a lifetime doing one thing with focus and innovation.”