Chapter 131: Unstoppable Hit — A New Blockbuster Idea
In Hong Kong, the former premises of Hongxing Plastic Factory were now crowded and bustling.
When the car came to a stop and Yang Wendong got out, suddenly—
"Good afternoon, Brother Dong!" dozens of young men shouted from not far away, standing in line with loud voices.
"..." Yang Wendong was taken aback for a moment. Then he saw Zhao Liming jogging over with a big grin. "Brother Dong, what do you think? Looks impressive, doesn't it?"
"It does look impressive," Yang Wendong said with a half-laugh. "But what's all this about? People who don't know us might think we're some kind of gang."
Zhao Liming chuckled, "Hehe… They're all from the squatter settlements. Just a few months ago, they were going hungry six times every three days and struggling to find jobs—no one would take them. Life was tough, just like it was for us back then.
Now they're working with you, Brother Dong—steady meals, sending money home. If you did ask them to be a gang and start swinging blades, I doubt they'd hesitate."
"I get what you mean, but we're not that kind of organization." Yang smiled. "Still, having this group of young guys around does have its perks. At least regular thugs won't dare cause trouble."
In theory, factories that created jobs were considered vital to the colonial government's ability to maintain stability, so even the police wouldn't casually mess with a factory—especially a large one.
But theory was theory, and reality was different. Even in his past life, in mainland China—where economic development was a national priority—there were still local officials who made things hard for manufacturers. Some factories were forced to shut down and flee despite massive investments.
Zhao Liming said, "If anyone dares cause trouble, we'll break their legs. But if it's someone with official backing, we can't handle that so easily."
"Someone official came by recently?" Yang asked.
"I'm not sure if it counts," Zhao said. "Some guy claiming to be from the environmental department came around saying we were using too much glue and polluting the environment. I got in touch with Lawyer Zhang, paid him about a thousand bucks, and the matter disappeared. It wasn't a big deal, so I didn't bring it up right away."
"Hmm, that small an amount probably means it was just personal," Yang said thoughtfully. "But we'll need to be prepared for this sort of thing as we grow bigger."
Zhao noticed Yang's more serious expression and asked, "Is it that big of a deal?"
"Not this one," Yang shook his head. "But as our operation expands, we'll need connections within the Hong Kong government. Otherwise, when these things happen, we'll have no good way to deal with them.
Even a minor official can cause problems. And even if they break the law, we can't touch them. Not even kick them out."
"Right," Zhao nodded. He might not be well-educated—he only started reading in the past year—but he'd been in the streets long enough to understand the basics: even if you fight the dog, you have to think about its owner.
"Don't worry about it too much," Yang said with a smile. "These things take time. Let's go check out the new house."
Zhao brightened. "Sure thing!"
He waved to the others, and the crowd immediately dispersed, each returning to their workstations.
Back in the car, Yang laughed, "You really do look like one of those little gang leaders from the docks back in the day."
"Hehe…" Zhao scratched his head. "If you ever become a major tycoon in Hong Kong, Brother Dong, I'll run your gang for you. I heard all the big tycoons here have gangs working for them."
"I buy you a TV and now you know everything, huh? Even the word 'tycoon,'" Yang joked.
Hong Kong had launched its first TV station just last year—Rediffusion Television, the future ATV. It was a cable service and cost HKD 25 a month—a price most families couldn't afford.
But for Yang, it was pocket change. He'd installed TVs for himself and his close associates. Though the shows were a bit outdated by his standards, they were still better than nothing.
"Of course," Zhao grinned. "And besides, we've lived through the dock life. We already knew a few things."
Yang shook his head. "Those tycoons usually run shipping or real estate operations—there's a lot of shady dealings involved. They need muscle.
But we run factories. Our main business is export—there's little conflict with local interests. We don't need that kind of muscle.
And even if one day I do need something like that, I won't let you do it. Once you touch that world, it's with you forever."
Sure, Hong Kong's gangs were often just attack dogs for wealthy businessmen. But that didn't mean you could get too close. There had to be a line.
Zhao looked confused. "Didn't you say you might invest in real estate one day?"
"I will—but only after the factory business is solid," Yang replied with a smile.
—
At Yee Fu Garden, Lin Haoyu and Su Yiyi were already cleaning the apartment.
"Yiyi, Haoyu," Yang greeted as he walked in and saw them tidying up.
Zhao Liming immediately joined in but still asked, "Why not just hire someone to clean?"
Haoyu smiled. "We were going to, but after talking it over, we figured we only needed to wipe off the dust. Not much to do, really."
"Yeah," Su Yiyi added. "It's just a bit of surface cleaning. I didn't want anyone accidentally scratching the furniture."
Yang walked over, picked up a cloth, and wiped down the table himself. "You're overthinking it. The professionals are actually better than you.
But there's so little to do—by the time we find someone, we'll probably be done anyway."
"Still," Yiyi smiled, "you're the boss, Brother Dong. Shouldn't you let others do the work?"
"It's my home," Yang said. "What's wrong with wiping my own table?
Do you think bosses should just sit on a throne and never touch the real world?"
The four of them quickly finished wiping the dust off the furniture, and next up was the floor.
Zhao Liming and Lin Haoyu eagerly grabbed a mop each, insisting on handling the work themselves and not letting their boss, Yang Wendong, lift a finger.
"Alright, I'll leave it to you then," Yang said with a smile. It was enough that he had participated a bit—doing the same manual labor as everyone else might actually make them feel uncomfortable.
The floor had gathered a lot of dust, and Zhao Liming's mop got dirty quickly. He took it out to the balcony, turned on the faucet, rinsed it thoroughly, and then wrung it out forcefully.
But when he brought it back inside, the mop head was still dripping wet. The moment he stepped on the floor, water splashed everywhere, making the floor even dirtier.
"Liming, take it back outside and give it a good spin," Lin Haoyu called out. "It's too big to wring out by hand—you'll just make a mess."
"This thing splashes water everywhere when you swing it!" Zhao replied. He wiped up the muddy footprints he had left and shoved the mop back into the sink. "Honestly, stepping on it works best, but this sink's not great for that, and my shoes keep getting wet. I'll switch to slippers later…"
"Mops, huh…" Yang looked at the wet trail the mop had left behind. Even though it had been wiped again, there had been too much water, and the mop hadn't dried properly.
Anyone with some common sense knew that when mopping, the floor should be just damp—too much water ruins the job.
And that's when something suddenly clicked in his mind—something clever that didn't exist in this era…
—
Lin Haoyu went to help too. He rinsed the mop clean, and the two of them began twisting the handle from both ends, trying to squeeze out the water.
"Turn… hard!" The two men grunted as they strained, the muscles in their arms bulging, faces tense with effort.
Yang and Su Yiyi walked over to watch.
After several tries, they finally got most of the water out of the mop—at least no more drips.
Yang asked, "Isn't this mop kind of lousy? You two are working together and still struggling? Are there no smaller ones?"
"Haven't paid much attention," Zhao replied. "We bought this at a local shop. I think they're all like this."
"How are you supposed to wring these things out normally?" Yang asked, a little baffled by the logistics.
Zhao found the question odd but answered anyway, "You either do what we just did, step on it with your feet, or hang it to air dry. Give it a while, and it stops dripping."
"Air-drying takes too long. And wringing by hand takes too much strength," Yang muttered to himself.
Mops were typically used by women—after all, most households still followed the traditional "men work outside, women manage the home" model.
For women, handling a mop like this was far too much work.
"Brother Dong?" Su Yiyi asked, seeing Yang fall silent. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing," Yang smiled. "This area's been cleaned well enough. You guys still have your own places to tidy up, right?"
"No, our parents are taking care of that," Haoyu replied. "You're the boss, so we came here just to lend a hand."
"Right…" Yang nodded. "Just dusting is fine. You guys aren't the bosses, but you don't need to waste your time doing all this.
Yiyi, find a cleaning service—have them come by every week or two."
"Okay," Su Yiyi agreed with a nod.
Yang continued, "I'm going upstairs to make a phone call. Once you've wrapped up here, let's head out for dinner."
Moving into a new home deserved a proper meal. But since it was a personal matter, he hadn't invited even Wei Zetao—there was no need.
Just the four of them—those who had started from scratch together. They were not just colleagues, but practically family. It made sense to celebrate such a thing with them.
Perhaps in the future, they wouldn't hold senior positions in his company due to limitations in capability. But their bond would remain. Later on, they could run small businesses of their own, or even become landlords with Yang's guidance.
The key was, once money got involved, relationships changed. Time could erode anything. Human nature rarely withstood that kind of test. Better not to test it at all.
—
Upstairs, Yang entered a 500-square-foot (about 50m²) room—his new bedroom. It had its own bathroom and, importantly, its own landline telephone.
This was crucial for late-night work calls. Otherwise, he'd have to send someone to fetch someone else—not exactly efficient.
He picked up the phone and dialed a number.
"Who is it?" came the voice on the other end.
"Wei, it's me," Yang Wendong said.
"Mr. Yang? Calling from your new place?" Wei Zetao chuckled. "Testing the line?"
"Yeah, but this isn't just a test," Yang replied. "I need you to send someone out to buy some mops—every type available at local stores."
"Mops?" Wei sounded confused.
"Just go buy them," Yang said. "We'll discuss the rest at the office tomorrow."
"…Alright."
Yang hung up the phone.
What happened today had reminded him of a famous product from the future: the spin mop.
Now that his finances were improving, he was constantly noticing products that didn't exist yet. But very few actually aligned with his current capabilities and business scope.
The spin mop, however… that just might be one.
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