From a seamstress worker to a real estate queen, a generation of business legend comes to an end

Ask AI · How does Chen Lihua achieve the initial accumulation of capital through antique furniture?

Founder of Fuhua International Group Chen Lihua

Introduction: Though burdened with heavy loads, she finds it sweet.

The legendary woman who once pointed out the landscape along Chang’an Avenue and wielded influence amidst the scent of rosewood finally paused.

According to the obituary of Fuhua International Group, Honorary Chairman and Director of the Chinese Rosewood Museum Chen Lihua passed away in Beijing on April 5, 2026, at the age of 85, after ineffective medical treatment.

This eighth-generation descendant of the Yehe Nara clan has lived a life spanning Manchu imperial descendants, seamstress, Hong Kong property speculator, Beijing “landlord,” and even China’s former richest woman.

What she left behind to the world is not only the precious Jinbao Street on Chang’an Avenue, nor the 200 million yuan rosewood museum built solely for charity, but also a business model centered on “choice” and “extreme.”

The First Pot of Gold: The “Ownerless” Great Wealth Shift

In public perception, Chen Lihua’s rise has always been shrouded in mystery.

But she never shied away from her origins. Chen Lihua once said she was a Manchu Zhenghuang Banner descendant of the Yehe Nara clan, born in the Summer Palace.

However, this did not bring her luxury and comfort. Due to family decline, she dropped out of high school and supported herself by sewing clothes for others. Caring for children by day, sewing by night under the lamp—this was her youthful norm.

Fate often hides in the gaps of the times.

In the early 1980s, although bearing the title of “princess” descendant, Chen Lihua was just an ordinary furniture repair individual in Beijing. But she was frank and righteous, with a somewhat “female Meng Chang” flavor in her circle.

What truly enabled her to accumulate initial wealth was a capital shift full of the era’s characteristics. At that time, at Beijing’s Longshuncheng Chinese furniture factory, a large number of valuable Ming and Qing rosewood and golden silk nanmu furniture, considered “ownerless” back then, were scattered. To most, they were just old wood, but to Chen Lihua, who understood the value of cultural relics, they were gold on the ground.

She used various connections to acquire some antique furniture at lower prices, and through relatives’ introduction letters and lawyer certificates, successfully immigrated to Hong Kong and established Fuhua International Group.

With the capital earned from these antiques, Chen Lihua directly entered the then-booming real estate market.

In Hong Kong’s Beverly, Chen Lihua demonstrated remarkable courage. She bought 12 villas, bought low and sold high, quickly amassing substantial capital.

This story of rising to wealth is still regarded as legendary in the business world. In an era of information asymmetry, Chen Lihua relied on her keen sense of “value” and her ability to act across systems, completing a daring leap from seamstress to billionaire.

Jinbao Street Turmoil: The Mastermind of Beijing’s Real Estate Queen

If Hong Kong was Chen Lihua’s springboard, then Beijing was her stage for greatness.

In the early 1990s, with a large sum of money, Chen Lihua returned to Beijing. Her comeback project was the now top-tier Chang’an Club in the city.

This private club on Chang’an Avenue was for a long time a symbol of China’s top wealthy circle. Being a member was itself a status symbol. Through the Chang’an Club, Chen Lihua built a top-tier network covering politics and business, paving the way for her later acquisition of key old city redevelopment projects in Beijing.

But what truly cemented her “Real Estate Queen” status was the Jinbao Street project.

Jinbao Street, a golden avenue connecting Wangfujing and the East Second Ring Road, stretches 730 meters. Today, it is home to luxury car showrooms like Rolls-Royce and Ferrari, as well as high-end hotels and office buildings.

However, transforming this land was extremely difficult. At that time, urban renewal in Beijing was a tough nut— involving resident relocation, historic building preservation, municipal planning, and sensitive issues.

Chen Lihua showed her unique delicacy and dominance as a female entrepreneur. She innovatively proposed the “Municipal Road Demolition” model, where enterprises funded municipal road demolition costs in exchange for land development rights. This was a pioneering approach at the time, easing government finances and granting enterprises access to core land.

Facing the “most difficult” task of demolition, Chen Lihua personally oversaw the process. Rumors say she was straightforward, disliked others taking advantage of her, but she also refused to let ordinary people suffer. In that era, the compensation scheme for Jinbao Street’s demolition was generous, even receiving banners and drums from residents.

Jinbao Street’s success not only established Chen Lihua’s foothold in Beijing’s real estate industry but also proved that in commercial real estate, not only can you make money, but you can do so beautifully and earn a reputation.

“Tang Monk” and Rosewood:

A spiritual refuge unrelated to fame and fortune

Chen Lihua’s life, besides wealth, was most notably marked by her marriage to Chi Chongrui, the actor who played Tang Seng in “Journey to the West.”

Chi Chongrui was 11 years younger than Chen Lihua. When they met, she was a divorced wealthy woman with three children, while Chi Chongrui was a “national idol” in the hearts of many young girls.

This marriage was not well regarded at the time; some speculated it was a “gold-digger” and “beauty-seeking” transaction. But the couple stayed together for 36 years until Chen Lihua’s death, with Chi Chongrui always by her side.

In front of Chen Lihua, Chi Chongrui was always gentle, respectful, calling her “Chairman,” and addressing her as “You.” This seemingly distant manner was their unique respect and tacit understanding.

If Chi Chongrui was her emotional haven, then rosewood was her spiritual sanctuary.

In the real estate circle, Chen Lihua was known for being “stingy.” She once revealed her daily living expenses were only 10 yuan, and her favorite dish was pickled radish mixed with rice, avoiding coffee and tea. This ascetic lifestyle contrasted sharply with her billions in wealth.

But she spent freely on rosewood.

In 1999, she invested 200 million yuan to establish the China Rosewood Museum in the East Fifth Ring Road. The museum does not sell tickets; it’s purely a money sink. To restore furniture from the Forbidden City, she personally measured at the Palace Museum, even using hair strands to fit joints, striving for perfect precision.

She once expressed her obsession: “If I don’t do something in life, I’ve come in vain.”

For Chen Lihua, real estate was her career, but rosewood was her inheritance. She repeatedly stated that after a hundred years, these rosewood collections would be left to the country. This was her obsession with court culture as a Yehe Nara descendant and her simple practice of “taking from the people and using for the people” as a successful entrepreneur.

Curtain Call: The Back of an Era

Chen Lihua’s passing marked the end of an era of rough-and-ready heroes.

Looking back at her business trajectory, it was full of strong era-specific features: leveraging sharp policy insights and information gaps for initial accumulation, using political and business relationships to secure core resources, and ultimately maintaining and increasing wealth through heavy asset operations.

She left her son Zhao Yong a Fuhua International Group—a vast empire spanning real estate and culture. But compared to traditional developers, Fuhua is more like a “city core asset operator.” Whether it’s Jinbao Street or Chang’an Club, these are scarce assets difficult to replicate.

In many eyes, Chen Lihua’s greatest success was not how much money she earned, but how much she preserved and how she transformed wealth into culture.

Now, with her gone, Jinbao Street remains bustling, and the rosewood museum’s woody aroma still lingers. The woman who fought for 12 villas in Hong Kong and wore herself out in factories over a mortise-and-tenon structure can finally rest.

As she once said: “I seem to have been a plowhorse all my life, pulling my cart myself, and I feel quite comfortable.”

Perhaps this “comfort” is the most genuine portrayal of this generation of Chinese entrepreneurs—though burdened with heavy loads, they find it sweet.