Chapter 245: Ho Ying-dong's Advice and Meeting the Master Architect I.M. Pei
Clap clap clap clap clap—!
Thunderous applause erupted across the venue. Aside from a few top executives from rival conglomerates, most attendees were genuinely delighted. Whether they had successfully bid or were simply there to observe, everyone stood to benefit.
After all, this auction sent an unmistakably positive signal to the market—Hong Kong property prices would be rising sharply in the near term. And everyone present, as players in the real estate industry, would profit from the wave.
Zheng Zhijie joined the applause. After a long moment, when it finally settled down, he leaned toward Yang Wendong and said, "Mr. Yang, if past patterns hold, just this single auction could lift overall land prices in Hong Kong by 10%. That shift should materialize in the next two months.
Which means, the value of our existing properties will rise significantly. That can help us reduce debt pressure, and we can even use the increased equity to refinance with second mortgages."
"Mm, that's good news," Yang nodded, then glanced around the room. "The competition in real estate really does benefit a lot of other people."
In industrial sectors, more players meant thinner margins—and even losses. History's major economic crises were often tied to industrial overcapacity and oversupply. Even World Wars I and II were indirectly triggered by economic imbalances like these.
Shipping was the same. In another decade or so, too many vessels would lead to overcapacity and trigger a shipbuilding crisis.
But real estate and financial markets operated differently. The more people who joined in, the higher everyone's profits.
"Exactly. That's why, despite fierce competition, real estate companies in Hong Kong often band together in informal alliances," Zheng said with a grin. "Mr. Yang, there's a luncheon hosted by the Hong Kong government at the Peninsula's steakhouse for all the auction participants. Would you like to attend?
After that, I'll stay to handle the paperwork related to our winning bid."
"Sure," Yang said. "And make sure to coordinate with Bank of East Asia and Hang Seng. We'll need their support—not just for the auction financing, but for the hotel's design and construction."
After much deliberation over the past month, Yang had decided to partner with both banks—splitting the risk 60–40. The capital involved was just too massive to entrust to a single financial institution.
That afternoon, the Hong Kong government had booked out the Peninsula Hotel's most luxurious steakhouse to host a banquet for the city's elite developers and their aides.
"This place really is top-tier," Zheng commented as they entered.
Yang smiled. "When we build our Four Seasons Hotel, it'll need restaurants of this caliber too."
A five-star hotel couldn't just have guest rooms. It needed gourmet dining, entertainment, fitness, shopping—all of it. The only real limitation would be space, especially for retail.
But Four Seasons was aimed at the luxury market, so everything it offered needed to be just as high-end.
Zheng said, "I plan to put out a global tender this afternoon to invite the world's top architecture firms to submit designs for the hotel. There's no company in Hong Kong with the experience to handle a luxury five-star project like this."
"What about that Golden Gate Architecture firm you mentioned last time?" Yang asked.
Zheng shook his head. "No good. They're builders, not designers. Many of Hong Kong's buildings are designed overseas and then handed off to firms like Golden Gate for construction. We'll need an international design house, then use Golden Gate or another local firm to handle the build."
"Got it," Yang nodded.
In his past life, most high-end hotels in early-2000s China were designed by international firms. Local expertise was still lacking. It made sense that 1960s Hong Kong would be in a similar position—its development started late, and local architectural talent lagged behind the West by decades.
Even if a local firm were available, Yang wouldn't dare entrust such a major project to them—not without a slow, small-scale training process first.
As the two entered the banquet area, a familiar voice called out from behind.
"Mr. Yang!"
Yang turned around with a smile. "Mr. Ho, congratulations on winning the North Point lot! I hear it can support over 1,000 residential units?"
"Haha, all modest 500–600 square foot flats," Ho replied. "It's nothing compared to your win today."
"Well, the hotel requirement scared off the Land Dev Group. If not for that, they wouldn't have backed down," Yang said.
If Land Dev had truly wanted the Queen's Road site, Yang couldn't have matched their financial muscle. Going head-to-head would've been foolish.
"A hotel isn't bad either," Ho said. "With such a prime location, business will be booming."
"Thanks for the kind words," Yang replied. "Care to join us for lunch?"
"Gladly," Ho nodded.
They picked a window-side table that offered a sweeping view of Hong Kong Island.
"This city really is beautiful," Ho said wistfully. "Back when I was young, even Hong Kong Island had its share of chaotic slums."
"Like the shanty towns in Kowloon?" Yang asked.
"Worse, in some ways," Ho said after some thought. "They were all poor, sure, but today's society is vastly better than twenty years ago.
Mr. Yang, you may think Hong Kong is messy now, but it's light-years ahead of the past."
"Of course. Society always progresses," Yang agreed.
Much had been made about how messy 1960s Hong Kong was—police corruption, gang influence, etc.—even inspiring films like Lee Rock. But compared to the 1930s and '40s, it was a different world—especially economically.
And when a society became more stable and prosperous, even if the elites took the lion's share, the average person still got a taste of progress.
"That's why we need entrepreneurs like you," Ho said seriously. "You're helping to drive economic development—and that's what keeps society moving forward."
"You flatter me, Mr. Ho," Yang replied, slightly uncomfortable. He'd been praised a lot lately—this felt a bit over the top.
Ho changed topics. "I've heard you're planning to use your cargo ships to bring freshwater into Hong Kong?"
"Yes," Yang nodded. "But it's just a registration for now. No formal contract yet."
Yang hadn't publicly disclosed the plan, but somehow the news had leaked—likely from within the Water Authority, where his team had gone to discuss logistics. Enough people there knew what was going on.
The drought wasn't severe yet, and his current ships were still tied up in other tasks. Only when the incoming second-hand vessels arrived would he be ready to begin water transport.
"Then I wish Mr. Yang success with the bid," Ho Ying-dong nodded.
"You too, Mr. Ho," Yang Wendong replied with a smile.
After exchanging pleasantries, Ho took his leave with Mr. Smith. As they left, Zheng Zhijie leaned in and said, "Mr. Ho has focused his investments almost entirely on residential properties in recent years. Even when he builds commercial buildings, he sells them off quickly. He rarely holds long-term assets."
"Probably doesn't trust the British colonial government," Yang guessed.
Indeed, Ho's earlier business activities in the 1950s had already rubbed the colonial administration the wrong way. But back then, many Chinese businessmen were doing similar things, and the authorities mostly turned a blind eye. However, during the escalating left-right political tensions later on, Ho openly opposed the colonial government—and was severely suppressed for it.
Understanding the risks, Ho likely pulled back from long-term investments in immovable assets. This was a strategy opposite to those who were bullish on Hong Kong's future.
…
About ten minutes later, the auction officially began.
Yang Wendong observed quietly while the bidding for various parcels unfolded. Several big developers were locked in fierce competition.
The earlier sluggishness in the real estate market had clearly evaporated. With every lot that hit the auction block, the competition intensified. Land was gold again, and everyone wanted a piece of it. Winning even one plot could mean millions in profits.
"Mr. Yang," Zheng said, "based on previous trends, just this auction alone could drive up Hong Kong land prices by 10%. It'll start showing in the next two months. That means our current properties will appreciate accordingly. That will help ease debt pressure, and we can even refinance based on the new valuations."
"That's good news," Yang nodded, then looked around and added, "Real estate is really a business where everyone wins together."
Unlike manufacturing or shipping, where more players often meant tighter margins and even losses, real estate and finance worked in reverse. More buyers created higher prices, and more profits for all.
"Exactly. That's why, despite heavy competition, Hong Kong real estate firms often form informal alliances," Zheng smiled. "Mr. Yang, the government is hosting a lunch for all bidders at the Peninsula's best steakhouse. Afterwards, you can head back. I'll stay behind to handle the paperwork."
"Sure," Yang said. "Coordinate with Bank of East Asia and Hang Seng. We'll need their support not just for paying the auction price, but for the hotel's design and construction phase."
The lunch venue was one of the most luxurious in the Peninsula, reserved by the government specifically to host the elite who had participated in the auction.
"This place is fancy," Zheng remarked as they entered.
Yang laughed. "When we finish building our Four Seasons, we'll need restaurants of this caliber too."
A top-tier hotel wasn't just about rooms. It needed fine dining, entertainment, fitness, shopping—even if the retail side had space limitations. Since the Four Seasons was positioned as a luxury brand, every aspect had to match that level.
Zheng said, "I'll send out invitations this afternoon to top global architecture firms to bid on the design. Hong Kong has no experience with five-star hotels."
"What about the Golden Gate architecture firm you mentioned last time?" Yang asked.
"They're builders, not designers," Zheng shook his head. "Most of Hong Kong's notable buildings were designed overseas and only built locally. We'll need to find a design firm abroad and then subcontract the construction to local companies like Golden Gate."
"Alright," Yang nodded in agreement.
From his past life, Yang remembered that even in the early 2000s, most of China's luxury hotels were designed by foreign firms due to a lack of local experience. Hong Kong, though economically advanced, had only been developing for a few decades. Compared to the West, it lagged by over a hundred years. Local architectural talent couldn't match that.
Even if there was a local design firm, Yang wouldn't dare entrust such a high-stakes project to them. They would need to be nurtured slowly, starting from smaller projects.
As they entered the dining area, a familiar voice called out behind them.
"Mr. Yang."
Yang turned and smiled. "Mr. Ho, congratulations on winning the North Point plot. I heard it can accommodate over 1,000 residential units?"
"Haha, they're all modest 500–600 square foot flats," Ho Ying-dong chuckled. "Compared to the land king you won today, it's nothing."
"Well, that plot's hotel-only zoning scared off the Land Development Group. Otherwise, I wouldn't have stood a chance," Yang replied with a grin.
If Land Dev had gone all-in, Yang wouldn't have had the resources to outbid them. Competing head-on with a giant like that would've been a losing battle.
"Still, it's a great location for a hotel," Ho said. "Business will be booming."
"Thank you for the kind words. Would you care to join us for lunch?" Yang offered.
"Gladly," Ho accepted.
They found a window-side table with a panoramic view of Hong Kong Island.
"Hong Kong is truly beautiful," Ho said with a sigh. "Back when I was young, even the Island had massive slums."
"Like the shanty towns in Kowloon?" Yang asked.
"Pretty much. Some areas were even worse," Ho said thoughtfully. "Things were hard, but today's society is leagues ahead of what we had twenty years ago.
Mr. Yang, you might think Hong Kong is chaotic now, but trust me—it's a paradise compared to the past."
"Of course. Society always progresses," Yang said in agreement.
Much had been said about how corrupt and chaotic 1960s Hong Kong was, with films like Lee Rock dramatizing the era. But even so, it was still a world apart from the 1930s and '40s, especially in terms of economic prosperity.
Any stable, prosperous society—even one dominated by big capitalists—still allowed ordinary people to benefit somewhat from growth.
Ho nodded and said, "It takes businessmen like you—ones who can drive economic development—to make that happen."
"You flatter me," Yang replied, growing a bit wary. He had been receiving a lot of praise lately, more than usual.
Then Ho asked, "I heard you're planning to use your own cargo ships to transport water into Hong Kong?"
"Yes," Yang nodded. "For now, we've only registered. No formal agreement yet."
He hadn't publicized the plan, but word had clearly gotten out—likely from within the Water Supplies Department, where his team had begun initial talks.
The drought wasn't yet serious, and his current fleet was fully deployed. Only after the new batch of second-hand ships arrived could he begin water transport.
Ho looked at him curiously. "Mr. Yang, why take on such a project? Most shipowners avoid this business. The government's pay rate isn't attractive."
"I'm not doing it for profit," Yang said. "I want to make sure that ordinary Hong Kong citizens don't suffer due to water shortages. Tap water may be cheap, but once there's a shortage, the societal cost is huge."
"You're a man of principle. I respect that," Ho gave a thumbs-up.
Yang smiled. "I pale in comparison to you. Back then, you sent tons of emergency supplies to the mainland during hard times."
"That's in the past—no need to bring it up again." Ho paused and then said, "Mr. Yang, transporting water is a good idea, but you should manage it carefully, or the losses could be severe."
"What do you mean?" Yang asked.
Ho didn't answer directly. Instead, he posed a question. "Have you noticed how the government has been auctioning off a lot of land lately? Even prime sites in Central—good locations, sizable plots?"
"Yes," Yang nodded. "Land prices are up. Isn't it normal for the government to sell more while they can?"
"Not quite," Ho said. "You haven't been in real estate long, so you might not realize this. Property booms come and go, but this spike in auctions is unusual.
The real reason is that the government needs cash—urgently. They're trying to fund the construction of the High Island Reservoir and a seawater desalination plant in Tuen Mun."
"So the colonial government is trying to reduce dependence on the mainland?" Yang understood immediately.
Though Hong Kong got plenty of rainfall, its geography didn't allow freshwater to accumulate. As the population grew and industry, construction, and power generation boomed, demand for water soared.
Water wasn't just about money—it was a matter of survival.
From a practical standpoint, importing water from the mainland made sense. But politically, it meant dependence—and the British didn't like that. So while they negotiated with the mainland, they were simultaneously throwing hundreds of millions into reservoir and desalination projects. Financially, it was a disaster. Politically, it was a strategic hedge.
"Exactly," Ho confirmed.
Yang shook his head. "Even if they get their own water, what about daily goods, meat, and vegetables? Most of it still comes from the mainland."
"Hahaha, you're right. But the colonial government doesn't see it that way," Ho said. "I told you this so you can be prepared. If the High Island Reservoir gets finished and a typhoon fills it up, the city might not need mainland water anymore.
I heard you're buying a lot of ships. I don't know how many are for water transport, but you should plan accordingly."
"Thank you, Mr. Ho," Yang said sincerely.
As a time traveler, Yang knew the government's plan would fail by next year, when the drought worsened and they would be forced to sign a deal to import East River water.
But Ho's warning was still appreciated. Even if there was an agenda behind it, it was offered in good faith.
Ho added, "A small businessman only needs to think about profit. A real businessman has to think about politics too. I'm sure you understand."
"I do," Yang said with a smile.
"You must. Otherwise, you couldn't have risen this fast," Ho said. "I told you all this because I don't want to see someone like you suffer needlessly.
I know how well you treat your workers. You care about the poor. That's the kind of character I respect. That's why I wanted to meet you."
"I'm honored, Mr. Ho," Yang said. "There's a saying I like: 'I once walked through the rain, so now I want to hold the umbrella for others.' Adults can endure a little hunger—but children deserve at least a full meal."
In his past life, hunger wasn't a common worry in the mainland. People worried more about metabolic diseases from overeating. But just a few decades ago—even in Hong Kong—many families struggled to eat properly.
Now that he had more money than he could spend, Yang wanted to create jobs and help Hong Kong's Chinese population escape that kind of poverty.
"Well said," Ho raised his glass. "Mr. Yang, I toast to that."
"Cheers," Yang smiled, lifting his glass. It was light beer—mild enough for lunch.
After lunch, Yang took his leave.
Ho's assistant asked, "Sir, I've never seen you go out of your way to befriend a young Chinese entrepreneur like that."
"That's because I believe Yang Wendong has limitless potential," Ho said. "He might someday rival even Ho Tung."
"Mr. Ho Tung?" the assistant asked, shocked. For many in Hong Kong, Ho Tung was a living legend of wealth and success.
"And it's not just his ability—it's his character. He's only been in business a few years, but he's already helped so many people. That alone makes him worth knowing.
I hope, someday, he'll help the hundreds of millions living north of the river."
"That won't be easy…" the assistant muttered.
In the following days, Zheng Zhijie completed the formalities with the Land Office. Through a syndicated loan with Bank of East Asia and Hang Seng, the first payment of HK$15 million was issued.
Changxing Real Estate contributed HK$5 million of its own capital—HK$20 million total for the initial installment. The remainder would be due in a year and a half, as was standard for large-scale property transactions.
One week later — December 12
Zheng Zhijie brought a thick folder to Yang Wendong.
"Mr. Yang, these are the bidding materials from several international architectural firms for the hotel project. Please review them."
"Alright, let me take a look." Yang flipped open the folder and scanned the first page. One name immediately caught his eye.
He raised his head. "This Pei Architects… do you know anything about them?"
Of course he did.
I.M. Pei—one of the most celebrated Chinese architects in history. In Yang's previous life, Pei designed iconic buildings such as the Bank of China Tower in Hong Kong, the Bank of China Headquarters in Beijing, the Macau Science Center, the Suzhou Museum, and even landmarks in the United States and other countries.
Zheng replied, "I.M. Pei is Chinese-American and has a strong reputation in the American architectural world."
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