Statements of fact made under oath or before a notary are among the documents solicitors send me most often. If you hold a Chinese 声明书 declaration, a 委托书 power of attorney, a 亲属关系证明 certificate of kinship, or a notarised 公证书 containing one of those, and a UK solicitor, court, bank or government department has to read it, what is being asked for is a certified English translation: a complete, faithful rendering with a signed statement of accuracy carrying my name, qualifications and contact details. It costs £30 per page of 250 words, standard turnaround is 24 hours, and it is delivered as a signed PDF.

Most of these documents reach me in notarial form. A Chinese 公证书 is a bound booklet issued by a 公证处: a printed cover, the declaration or power of attorney itself, and the notary’s certificate confirming that the person appeared, that the signature is theirs, or that a copy matches an original. It carries a certificate number in the style (2025)京XX证字第XXXX号, the notary’s name and practising details, the office’s red seal, and a 骑缝章 straddling seal printed across the bound edge so that pages cannot be swapped. Some offices attach their own English version inside the same booklet. It is not always good, and it is not certified by anyone in this country, so I translate the Chinese afresh rather than tidy up someone else’s work.

In UK practice these turn up in fairly predictable places. Probate is a common one: an estate here, an heir in China whose entitlement is evidenced by a kinship certificate, and a power of attorney appointing someone in England to act. Family and immigration work is another, where a relationship or a parent’s consent to a child’s travel has to be evidenced. Conveyancing and corporate matters throw up powers of attorney for signatories who cannot attend. Banks, pension providers and insurers ask for declarations of identity or of marital status, and registrars see 单身声明 before a marriage notice. In every case the recipient is not checking your Chinese; they are checking that the English in front of them is complete and that somebody has put their name to it.

The distinctions here are easy to blur and expensive to get wrong. An affidavit sworn in England before a solicitor is a different instrument from a Chinese notarial deed, and 公证 (notarisation), 认证 (authentication or legalisation) and 声明 (declaration) are three separate things that all get loosely rendered as certification. I keep them apart in the translation, and if you are unsure which one you have been asked to produce, the difference between a certified and a notarised translation is worth reading before you order. Kinship documents bring their own trap, because Chinese kinship vocabulary is precise where English is vague: 堂兄 and 表兄 are both cousins, 叔叔, 伯伯 and 舅舅 all collapse into uncle, and in a probate or immigration file that flattening can destroy the very fact the document exists to prove. I translate the exact relationship — father’s younger brother rather than a bare uncle — and keep the Chinese term where a reader may need it. Personal names follow the passport spelling, never a fresh romanisation.

Send the complete booklet, not only the page with the wording on it: cover, Chinese original, notary’s certificate, every page carrying a seal, and the back page, which often holds the registration number even when it looks blank. Scan or photograph in colour, flat, with the edges in frame so the straddling seal is visible. Tell me who is receiving it, give me the passport spelling of every name mentioned, and flag the date you need it by. Changes after delivery are included in the price, and if the recipient specifically wants my certification notarised, that is available on top.