Chapter 106: Praise from the Banking Elite
With the agreement signed, three days later, Citibank in the United States would send a check to Hong Kong—this was still the standard form of bank transfer in this era.
Both Robert and Robin were in good spirits. Even though their primary goal had been to secure the European and Japanese distribution rights, they hadn't been very confident about succeeding. Walking away with exclusive rights for the Americas still counted as a considerable win.
At Kai Tak Airport, just before boarding, Robert said to Yang Wendong, "Eric, I hope you can increase your production capacity as quickly as possible. Beyond California and Nevada, we've already received feedback from customers in other states—they're urgently requesting more Post-its. This is such a great opportunity, don't let it slip because of limited supply."
"Don't worry, I'll expand as fast as I can," Yang nodded.
Of course he wanted to scale production as quickly as possible—the bigger the output, the more money he would make. Becoming a major industrialist in Hong Kong would be within reach.
Still, even in 3M's own early history, they had suffered from supply shortages when the Post-it note first launched. Yang's financial resources were far more limited. In the first few months, his capacity was bound to be constrained.
However, the new funding from the Americas deal would go a long way toward resolving that issue and allow him to ramp up quickly.
If he could now satisfy demand across the Americas, he would soon be ready to target the massive European market.
Robert added, "This deal is done. But for your other request, you—or someone from your team—will need to visit the U.S. The plant in New York State is still operational. You can observe the production process there firsthand."
Yang nodded. "Alright, I'll make the necessary arrangements as soon as possible."
After the two Americans left, Wei Zetao smiled and said, "Mr. Yang, this deal was a major win. With the $500,000 in funding and our strong relationship with Liu Chong Hing Bank, we could acquire a large piece of land and build our own factory."
Yang nodded. "Exactly. We have to build our own now. A large-scale warehouse can't meet our needs anymore."
Any serious factory eventually had to be custom-built—this was a universal rule. Even if the product was simple, a well-designed facility tailored to the production process could significantly boost efficiency.
Rented facilities, by contrast, were the opposite: you had to tailor your operations around the space.
Wei agreed. "Yes, our required area is too large. There's nothing like that available on the market. If we lease multiple locations, that would lower efficiency and increase quality control risks.
If we can build a few multi-story industrial buildings next to each other, that would be ideal."
Yang asked, "Most factories on Hong Kong Island are multi-story, right? But that's not common here in Kowloon?"
Take his previous acquisition, the Hongxing Plastics Factory, for example—it was just a ground-level facility, no second floor.
"That's right. Land on Hong Kong Island is more expensive, so it makes sense to build upward," Wei said, catching on to Yang's point. "So you're thinking of building a large single-story facility here in Kowloon?"
"Exactly. Land's cheap. Why not build outwards?" Yang replied.
Even though land prices in late 1950s Hong Kong were dirt cheap compared to what they'd become decades later, Hong Kong Island was already more expensive. That's why industrial land there was used vertically.
But much of Kowloon was still undeveloped. Outside the town centers, ports, or a few special areas, many spots were little better than wasteland.
In such areas, it made more sense to buy large plots and build one or two-story buildings, rather than cram into a high-rise on expensive land.
Yang wasn't currently interested in real estate speculation, but since industrial development required land anyway, he figured he might as well buy as much as he could.
Even if it was zoned as industrial land now, he could always try to rezone it for commercial use later.
Wei added, "Actually, the multi-story factory layout isn't just about land cost. For most light manufacturing, having an elevator with vertical production lines really boosts efficiency.
And even though land is cheaper here in Kowloon, truly flat, open land is almost nonexistent. You'd need to reclaim or level it—which could cost more than just building up.
We need to be strategic with our funds. Equipment procurement alone may end up costing more than construction."
"True. If that kind of flat land were easy to get, it would've already been used for housing," Yang agreed, realizing he hadn't thought things through. "Alright, then let's stick to building up."
Wei nodded. "We can strike a balance—build something larger in area, but not as tall as the factories on Hong Kong Island."
"Sounds good." Yang added, "The glue factory is also going to be expensive. And we'll need qualified personnel, which is another big challenge. If we can't find the right people, I'll have to fully rely on 3M."
That was the part that frustrated Yang the most. Without the right professionals, the entire project would stall. While 3M had promised technical assistance, he still needed someone on his own team who understood the work.
Wei thought for a moment. "Actually, it's not that hopeless."
"Oh?" Yang looked up, intrigued.
"I contacted an international headhunting agency a while back and asked them to find Chinese experts in adhesives. They've identified one candidate who's willing to consider relocating to Hong Kong.
But his asking salary is high—around $600 per month. And he wants to bring a few team members with him. Their salaries are lower, but still $200–300 each."
"You're sure they're qualified?" Yang asked.
In this era, the average annual salary in the U.S. was under $2,000. For high-level technical talent, $600 per month was no small sum. Still, Yang could afford it—if the talent was real.
Wei replied, "The headhunter guaranteed it. These guys work at Dow Chemical in the U.S. and specialize in adhesives.
They lean more toward industrial adhesives, but the gap shouldn't be too big."
"If they're legit, the salary's fine," Yang said. "Here's what we'll do: send someone to the U.S. to meet with them, and also hire another agency to run a background check. I want full profiles.
We need to make sure the headhunter isn't feeding us fake resumes."
"No problem," Wei said. "But that will cost a bit."
"Then we'll spend it," Yang said. "Right now, aside from increasing Post-it and glue trap production, our top priority is building that glue factory.
If we succeed, once our scale increases, the savings in cost will far outweigh what we're spending today."
With 3M's funding, new factories and equipment were on the way. Post-it production was scaling fast, which meant demand for glue and paper would soon skyrocket.
Hong Kong today was nothing like mainland China decades later. Almost everything here depended on imports. Even when plastic flowers were booming, there were shortages of basic materials like plastic pellets. Who could say whether a similar shortage might arise in the future when Yang Wendong would need large amounts of glue? Maybe those same traders would take the opportunity to hike prices.
But above all, the priority was cost reduction. Cost was the lifeline of any enterprise. Most Hong Kong plastic companies were just manufacturing for traders and the international chemical giants behind them. Yang Wendong was determined not to let all his hard work end up enriching someone else.
Three days later, at Liu Chong Hing Bank Headquarters:
"Miss Lin, this is a registered letter from the United States," said a uniformed man in green as he entered the eighth floor office. He handed the envelope over personally and added, "It's an express airmail—sent from the U.S."
"Let me see." Miss Lin immediately put down her work. When she saw the English writing on the envelope, she smiled. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," the messenger replied politely and left.
Miss Lin then called over a junior colleague. "Ah Zhen, come have a look. We've got a registered letter from the U.S.—probably a bank draft."
Ah Zhen scooted her chair over quickly and smiled. "Sister Lin, you're amazing. You can tell what it is before even opening it."
"Don't you remember your training? If it's a thin, registered envelope from a foreign bank, it's usually a draft," Sister Lin explained patiently. "Always remember what you've learned. You won't always have someone to teach you."
"Oh, got it." Ah Zhen nodded. "Let's open it then."
"These kinds of drafts are usually just settlement payments from Hong Kong export factories. They're usually not big," Sister Lin said while carefully opening the envelope—making sure not to damage the contents.
Ah Zhen asked curiously, "But there are so many big companies in Hong Kong. Why are they usually small amounts?"
Sister Lin smiled. "Sure, there are a lot of big companies—but they all work with the big British banks. We at Liu Chong Hing are still a bit behind."
"Oh, true… But since the chairman rolled out the HK$100 account opening policy a few years ago, our bank's been growing fast. I heard they're even planning a new headquarters in Central," she said. But mid-sentence, she noticed Sister Lin's expression change and fell silent. "Sister Lin? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Sister Lin replied, then quietly put the bank draft back in the envelope. "Go back to your desk."
"Oh… okay." Ah Zhen was confused but obedient. From the look on Sister Lin's face, she guessed the draft must've been for a huge amount—so huge that even she wasn't supposed to see it.
Sister Lin stood up, tucked the envelope away, and quickly left.
An hour later, a U.S. bank draft for $500,000 landed in the hands of Liu Chong Hing Bank's chairman at headquarters.
A large, imposing man in his fifties held the check and smiled. "I've been running Liu Chong Hing for over ten years. Honestly, a $500,000 draft? I've rarely seen anything like this."
"Yeah, Dad. I never thought our bank would be receiving something this big. It's incredible," added a man in his thirties—his son.
Of course, Liu Chong Hing's total assets easily surpassed tens of millions of dollars. But that money came in bit by bit, mostly from thousands of individual account holders. Big Hong Kong companies and wealthy elites typically banked with British institutions. Few major transactions passed through local Chinese banks.
Most large Chinese clients of Liu Chong Hing were either in real estate or small-scale exporters. A single $500,000 transaction was practically unheard of. Even among Hong Kong's biggest Chinese-run factories, maybe only a handful had annual exports exceeding that number—and once they reached that scale, they usually moved to HSBC or other foreign banks.
Chairman Liu Baoshan looked down at the account details and asked, "Liewen, this is from that Changxing Industrial, right? The one we loaned HK$800,000 to? No collateral, just a contract with an American company?"
"Yes, that's the one," Liewen replied. "This $500,000 draft was sent by 3M. I looked into them last time—they're one of the top industrial companies in the U.S.
Their scale is far beyond firms like Jardine or even HSBC."
"Impressive. That's a proper American company," Baoshan nodded. "But I don't recall seeing any recent large transaction logs in Changxing's account. Why did this U.S. firm suddenly send such a large draft?"
Liewen shook his head. "We don't really know. Client transactions aren't something we can monitor closely, and they certainly won't tell us directly.
But the draft is genuine—I called the U.S. bank myself. Even though it was nighttime there, someone picked up and confirmed it."
With a transaction this size, even if the paperwork checked out, the bank still needed to verify it over the phone. If something went wrong, a smaller bank like theirs could collapse on the spot.
"Hmm. Still, we should try to get more details. It'll help us in future dealings with them," Baoshan said.
"You seem very optimistic about this company," Liewen noted.
"With $500,000 on the table, how could I not be?" Baoshan smiled. "If I remember correctly, this guy only started the company a year ago, right? And he's already achieved this much? I don't think there's been another entrepreneur like him in Hong Kong's history."
Liewen nodded. "Yeah, I've never heard of anyone like that. But we still don't know for sure what the $500,000 is for—it might not be payment for goods. It could be a loan."
"If it's a loan, that means Changxing has something really valuable," Baoshan chuckled. "It's probably that Post-it product. Even I find it convenient to use—especially now that I'm older and more forgetful. This thing really helps."
"You're still young, Dad," Liewen said with a smile.
"Alright, no need to flatter me. You know my heart isn't what it used to be," Baoshan sighed. "What I want most is for you to become capable of inheriting the family business—and to take care of your siblings. Then I can rest easy."
"I'll do my best," Liewen promised.
"Effort is part of it. But what's more important is your network," Baoshan said after a pause. "I've introduced you to my business friends, but they're all from my generation. You need to build relationships with your own."
"You mean… I should befriend this Yang Wendong?" Liewen asked.
"He's been recognized by a major American company. That's more than enough for me," Baoshan smiled. "Go see him yourself. Tell him about the draft. Start building a relationship."
"Alright, I'll go right away." Liewen didn't hesitate. Anyone who could command $500,000 in cash—whether it was earned or loaned—was already among the top-tier players in Hong Kong. Definitely worth getting to know.
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