More than twenty years ago, I arrived in Shanghai with a suitcase, hoping only to find a job, pay the rent and, ideally, still afford a decent meal at the end of the month. I never imagined that I would step into the glass industry and stay for more than two decades – apparently, my job-hunting instincts were only so-so.

Back then, I often saw the same scene: a customer would spread drawings across the table, and after a three-second glance, the supplier would say, “No problem!” A few months later, the quality failed to meet specifications, prices had been changed without warning, and delivery was late. Emails went from “We are checking” to “We are still checking” until, eventually, even “We are checking” stopped coming. In the worst cases, the factory shutter came down for good, leaving the customer’s molds, drawings and trust locked inside.

In 2005, I founded Easterglass and set one rule above all others: If we cannot do it, we say so honestly; if we make a commitment, we take responsibility through to the end.

Of course, we have never been a perfect company. We have made defective glass, modified molds incorrectly, and stood together on the workshop floor late at night, staring in silence at a failed product.

That was when we discovered that experience can be acquired in one very expensive way: by making the mistakes yourself. Unfortunately, we paid for more than our fair share.

But that “tuition” taught us at least one thing: making a mistake is not the real danger. The real danger is looking for excuses afterward instead of looking for answers.

Over time, we came to understand this: Responsibility does not mean promising that mistakes will never happen; it means not hiding when they do. Trust is not someone saying “I trust you”; it is a customer still willing, years later, to place their next drawing on our table.

Easter means rebirth. Glass can be remade. Trust is the one thing we never want to shatter.