Chapter 248: The Opportunity to Enter the Electronics Industry
"Oriental Daily?" Qin Zhiye repeated the name in his mind, then nodded. "That's a great name—simple, elegant, and easy to remember."
Yang Wendong smiled. "That's exactly what I was going for."
He had originally debated between Oriental Daily and Daily Times, but after some thought, he felt Oriental Daily had a broader and more dignified tone.
Qin asked, "So the concept for Oriental Daily is just a regular paper, like the others?"
"Yes, more or less," Yang replied. "We'll leverage our capital, scale, and experience to produce a proper, standard paper. But there's one key point—it must focus heavily on horse racing tips, stock market reports, and also on real stories of ordinary people's lives. Those are the types of articles the average reader enjoys—because they can see themselves in them."
The earlier high-end paper had succeeded because it captured a niche—color printing, which no other Hong Kong paper had at the time. That first-mover advantage gave them success.
But this new paper would enter a highly competitive arena with no technical edge. So Yang planned to replicate the formula that had made the real-world Oriental Daily successful in his previous life: racing columns, gossip columns, and slice-of-life stories from everyday people.
"Stories from the lower classes..." Qin mused. "There are definitely a lot of them in Hong Kong, but most of those folks can't write. If we want to tell their stories, we'll have to hire many field reporters to dig them up."
"That's fine," Yang said casually. "Hire them. In fact, the real Oriental Daily had hundreds of reporters on the streets every day, just to find human-interest stories."
Literacy wasn't the main issue. Even by the 1980s or '90s, when everyone could read and write, hardly anyone ever thought of writing to a newspaper to share their story.
"Understood," Qin said, clearly excited.
High-end newspapers brought prestige and solid profits—but the market was small. With Honghua Daily having already captured that niche, there wasn't much challenge left.
But a mass-market newspaper? That could multiply their audience tenfold or more.
Of course, profit margins would be lower. But in the newspaper business, sometimes scale mattered more than margins.
Yang continued, "Start preparing over the next few weeks. By the time Lunar New Year ends, I want the new team ready to launch."
Funding, printing equipment, office space—none of those were problems. Even staff could be trained by senior members of the existing team.
"Got it. I'll start recruiting immediately," Qin said. "But we'll probably have to poach people from other papers."
"Then do it. Don't hold back," Yang said with a grin. "If their companies can't offer enough to keep them, that's not our concern."
Within Changxing Group, the media division wasn't designed purely for profit.
The radio and newspaper arms combined probably earned less than a single real estate deal from Changxing Properties.
But their value lay in influence—their ability to act as Yang's mouthpiece, and to shape public opinion. That made them strategically vital, even if financially minor.
After finalizing the plans for Oriental Daily, the head of the radio division, Zhang Hui, came in to report on the year's progress.
"So we've got 400,000 listeners now?" Yang asked with a smile. "Seems like Hong Kong's electronics industry has improved quite a bit. Radio prices have dropped a lot."
Hong Kong's electronics boom had started in the early '60s. The first major factory was a joint venture between Sony and Hu Xiaoqing, known as the "Radio King." That plant assembled radios in Hong Kong and exported them throughout the British Commonwealth, allowing Sony to avoid high import tariffs.
As a result, Sony transferred quite a bit of technology. The plant kept growing, and a full electronics ecosystem began to form.
In just two years, from 1960 to 1961, over a dozen radio factories popped up in Hong Kong. Their first priority was the local market, which had previously relied entirely on imports. With local production, radio prices dropped to just 30–40% of their previous levels.
Cheaper radios meant more listeners—and commercial radio stations like Yang's flourished.
"Yes. We ran a survey last month. We estimate there are about 500,000 radios in use now," Zhang said. "Most of those users tune in to our station. Our programs are much more engaging than those of the other two stations."
"Half a million? That might be close to saturation," Yang mused. "Hong Kong has, what, three million people? That's probably 700,000 to 800,000 households total."
There were lots of single people, but also many large families with five or more members. Some wealthier men even had multiple wives—and lots of kids.
"Judging by household numbers, yes—we're near the limit," Zhang admitted. "But as the economy improves, more people are wanting their own rooms—or their own radios.
That could be another market for us. Theoretically, our listener base could double again."
"True. But even then, the ceiling is low," Yang nodded. "Still, it's a target worth reaching."
With a total population of just over three million, any business limited to the local market was constrained by default. Radio especially couldn't really scale abroad—maybe Macau, at most.
Industrial and shipping businesses had global reach, which was why they offered such massive returns.
Real estate, too, could be huge—but only because it sucked in all the profits from the rest of Hong Kong's economy, and because of Hong Kong's unique position as a financial hub. Without that, real estate wouldn't be so lucrative.
Media, on the other hand, had a low ceiling—unless they moved into TV.
TV shows could be exported. Even if the signal couldn't reach other places, the programs themselves could be sold.
The same was true of film. The local market was too small—overseas distribution was where the real money was. After the 1990s, Hong Kong's TV and film industries both declined because Hollywood captured global audiences, and they failed to secure a foothold in mainland China.
Zhang paused, then said, "Mr. Yang, there might be a problem with that goal."
"What do you mean?" Yang asked.
"Radio prices in Hong Kong may be about to surge," Zhang explained.
"Why?"
"Because Japan is about to impose heavy export tariffs on transistors destined for Hong Kong."
That made Yang frown.
"In recent years, Hong Kong's radio exports have been eating into Japan's global market share. In the first ten months of this year alone, Hong Kong exported over 500,000 radios to the U.S.
The key cost component in radios is the transistor—and Hong Kong can't make those yet. We've been importing them from Japan all along."
"Hong Kong radios are already eating into Japan's market? It's only been two years, hasn't it?" Yang Wendong said, genuinely surprised.
He knew it was bound to happen sooner or later—but he hadn't expected it to start this quickly.
In the eyes of Westerners at the time, Japan was the king of hustle. But twenty years later, they'd realize Koreans were even more relentless. And three to four decades after that, it would become clear that the most relentless of all were the Chinese.
In many ways, 1960s Hong Kong was already a snapshot of what mainland China would become decades later. The only limitation was population—and the fact that the property bubble would take over in a few years, turning this into a brief burst of "ultra-hustle" before it faded.
Zhang Hui confirmed, "Yes, radios don't require advanced technology. A small factory can hire a few dozen people and start producing hundreds of units a day.
The quality isn't great, but they're cheap—and they sell like crazy in export markets. Most of the components are now locally sourced in Hong Kong, except for the critical one: the transistor."
Yang nodded. "So the Japanese are targeting the transistor now? Planning to restrict exports to Hong Kong?"
"Exactly. Right now, it's still just a rumor. Japan hasn't made an official announcement," Zhang replied. "But the source seems credible. Anyone with connections in the industry knows about it."
Yang asked, "What about importing from elsewhere?"
"There aren't many countries that can produce transistors yet. In Asia, only Japan. Europe and the U.S. can do it too, but they're more expensive. Even with added tariffs, Japanese transistors are still cheaper," Zhang explained.
"So the Japanese have already calculated the profit margins," Yang said.
The Japanese weren't fools. Imposing export tariffs was unusual—violating basic trade logic. But if done strategically, it wouldn't give the market away to others.
Zhang continued, "If Japan does impose tariffs, Hong Kong's radio production costs will rise significantly. That's bad news for us too."
"Transistors…" Yang thought for a moment. "The mainland should be able to produce them, right?"
He wasn't an expert in the science history of 1950s and '60s China, but he remembered seeing information about BOE Technology in his past life. That company originated from the Beijing No.1 Electronics Factory, established in the 1950s, and had initially produced transistors.
Zhang replied, "Yes, the mainland can make them. Some people even reached out to China Resources. But the quantities are tiny. Supposedly, they don't have enough for themselves. And besides, these radios are for export—no one dares to use mainland components."
"If they can make them in the mainland, then Hong Kong should be able to as well," Yang said. "Do you know anything about transistor manufacturing?"
In the modern day, everyone talked about chips and integrated circuits. But in this era, the core of many electronics was the humble transistor—the equivalent of the chip.
Zhang said, "It should be possible. When Japan made their first transistor, their conditions weren't any better than what we have in Hong Kong now.
But the difference is—they had their government backing them. The British colonial government? They won't lift a finger."
"Relying on them is a pipe dream," Yang laughed. "Still, we need to dig into this. Just because it was possible back then doesn't mean it's still feasible now. Do you know any technical experts in this field? Taiwanese or overseas Chinese?"
Electronics were unique. Early technologies were often simple—but as they evolved, the barrier to entry only got higher. By the time you wanted to jump in, it might already be too late.
Just like LCD screens and semiconductors—factories were everywhere in the 1980s, but by the 21st century, only a few major players remained. Even newcomers with deep pockets couldn't break in.
Zhang thought for a moment. "I'm not too familiar with the technical side. But I can ask around—see if there are any experts in Hong Kong or Taiwan."
"Do that. Taiwan's your best bet," Yang said. "Get in touch with Wei as well. You two will work on this together."
The British colonial government was notoriously hands-off—hiding behind the pretext of "free markets." Outside of healthcare and daily necessities, they didn't intervene. Not even in banking—which led to the near-collapse of banks like Liu Chong Hing and Hang Seng.
Taiwan, on the other hand, had already launched its "Ten Major Construction Projects" in the '60s—paving the way for economic takeoff. They actively attracted foreign capital, boosted exports, and encouraged heavy industry and high-tech development.
Formosa Plastics itself had been born in that environment—alongside many other high-tech firms.
"Understood," Zhang nodded.
He was starting to realize that his boss might be planning a move into electronics.
That afternoon, Wei Zetao arrived from Kwun Tong and came straight to Hong Kong Island. Upon meeting Yang, he said with a smile, "Mr. Yang, I do know some electronics experts."
"You do?" Yang asked, curious. "Locals? I didn't think Hong Kong had specialists in this field."
Wei clarified, "Not locals—Americans. A few are Chinese engineers currently working at big tech firms in the U.S. They're all graduates from top American universities."
"And how did you get to know them?" Yang asked.
"Because you once publicly stated your interest in developing Hong Kong's electronics industry," Wei explained. "I figured we'd need talent eventually, so I asked Lin Youtin, who's based in the U.S., to start scouting.
He worked through some headhunting firms and found at least a few dozen qualified Chinese engineers. Several of them have already expressed interest in relocating to Hong Kong."
"Well done. That saves us a lot of time," Yang nodded. "Originally, I planned to wait until the local electronics industry matured a bit before jumping in. But with this transistor shortage, it looks like we're getting an early window."
As a time traveler, Yang's biggest advantage was knowing future trends. Consumer products offered the highest returns—especially when paired with control over retail channels.
Back in 1959, he hadn't entered the radio business because he lacked resources and radio tech was too basic—he had no edge. So he let it go.
But now, heading into 1962, Hong Kong's electronics sector was poised to explode. And Japan's tariff threat had created a gap—an entry point.
Zhang Hui had said the same. Hong Kong exported over half a million radios to the U.S. in just the first ten months of the year. That was huge.
"Great," Yang said. "Reach out to the contacts in the U.S. It's the holidays—they'll have some free time. See if they can come to Hong Kong for a visit."
"Will do," Wei said with a nod.
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