Chapter 252: The Youngest Shipping King
That afternoon, Yang Wendong and Zheng Yuhua arrived at the offices of the Oriental Daily.
Qin Zhiye naturally came out to greet them. Once they settled into the meeting room, Zheng Yuhua shared the good news about the successful cooperation agreement with HSBC.
"This is great news," Qin Zhiye said, clearly excited. "Mr. Yang Wendong, if I'm not mistaken, once the acquisition of these 24 cargo ships is complete, you'll have 32 ships under your command, totaling 471,000 tons."
"Correct," Yang Wendong nodded.
All of his ships were over 10,000 tons, most ranging between 12,000 to 17,000 tons. So his total capacity was just under 500,000 tons.
Qin Zhiye thought for a moment and then said, "Mr. Yang Wendong, I have an idea. Since the Oriental Daily is about to launch, why don't we use a bold headline to grab the attention of the Hong Kong public? What do you think?"
"You mean exaggerate the headline a bit?" Yang Wendong asked in return.
During a previous chat, Yang Wendong had casually introduced Qin Zhiye to the concept of clickbait from his past life. After a thorough explanation, Qin was astounded by the genius of the tactic.
However, they had agreed on two rules: first, the headlines could be exaggerated but never misleading—the content must match; second, such tactics shouldn't be overused or they'd become ineffective.
"Yes," Qin Zhiye nodded. "I was thinking something like: The Youngest Shipping King is Born. That should be enough to hook readers."
"Shipping King? I wouldn't go that far," Yang Wendong said with a slight shake of his head.
While shipping magnates in this era weren't yet at their peak, calling oneself a "shipping king" usually required over a million tons of capacity.
Take the British firms like Wheelock and Swire, for example—they already had over 3 million tons. Even Dong Haoyun, the Chinese shipping magnate, was approaching 1.5 million tons.
Whether in capital or experience, Yang Wendong was still lagging behind.
Qin Zhiye smiled. "That's why I added youngest. Technically, it's true. I don't think there's another shipping magnate under 30 years old anywhere with over 400,000 tons."
Zheng Yuhua, who had been listening, agreed. "Exactly. Not just in Hong Kong—there's no one like Mr. Yang Wendong globally. If we define it by age, he is the youngest shipping king."
"Well, when you put it like that, I can't argue," Yang Wendong admitted.
Adding the age qualifier made it indisputable. He wasn't just young—he had built this from scratch, not inherited it.
Qin Zhiye added, "Even if we don't report this ourselves, other media outlets will eventually pick it up. Some international agencies already track global shipping firms. Tonnage is always a key metric."
"That's true. There are plenty of such publications," Yang Wendong said with a nod.
Information on the world's wealthy has always drawn public interest. The only issue was that in this era, data transmission was slow and comprehensive rankings were hard to produce.
Hence, wealth lists mostly focused on American companies. Forbes hadn't even started its famous rankings yet.
However, data on registered aircraft and ships was publicly available and easy to track.
Qin Zhiye continued, "If we compare by number of vessels, Mr. Yang Wendong is actually quite close to Mr. Dong Haoyun. The gap in tonnage comes from his oil tankers—those are all over 50,000 tons, some even over 100,000."
"Yeah, just small freighters alone can't compete in tonnage," Yang Wendong agreed.
At this time, most cargo ships were 10,000-ton class—not because larger ships couldn't be built, but because they were impractical to operate.
The bigger the ship, the longer the loading and unloading times, especially when everything was handled manually. This made large cargo vessels inefficient at most ports.
But for bulk goods—like ores and grain—or for oil, or even future container ships, sizes could be massive: 50,000 tons, 100,000 tons, or more. These could be loaded and unloaded with special equipment, bypassing the inefficiencies of manual labor.
Dong Haoyun had ordered a 100,000-ton tanker from Japan back in 1959. Several other tankers in his fleet were over 50,000 tons. Naturally, his total tonnage far exceeded Yang Wendong's.
Zheng Yuhua added, "Oil transport is a harder business to get into. Typically, only experienced fleets can pull it off. Our Changxing Shipping is still young. But once we integrate these 24 ships, we can consider ordering oil tankers."
"That's what I was thinking too," Yang Wendong said.
Oil transportation was a must. It was the most profitable sector in shipping—especially after the 1967 Middle East crisis. Rumor had it that a single large tanker could pay for itself in just one year.
Even Jardine Matheson reportedly once offered their skyscraper (then the tallest in Hong Kong) in exchange for one of Pao Yue-kong's 200,000-ton oil tankers—and was refused. That decision remained one of Pao's biggest regrets.
But the risks were high. A single incident—even with insurance—could ruin a shipping company. That's why oil shipping was approached with extreme caution.
Yang Wendong wouldn't rush into such a high-risk business during the early stages of building his fleet. Once his team was stronger, he'd consider it.
"We'll buy oil tankers later," Qin Zhiye said. "But for now, this headline could help us make a splash. It's not deceptive—just impactful. And for our debut issue, we need something explosive."
Yang Wendong thought it over. "Sure, it works for the first day. But what about after that? You can't use clickbait every day."
"Of course not," Qin said. "But don't forget—we're offering the lowest price. Our content is solid. We just need to give people a reason to try it. Once they do, many will become regular readers."
"True," Yang Wendong nodded. A good product, once exposed, would always retain some customers. That was a law of business.
Zheng Yuhua asked, "Mr. Qin, how much will Oriental Daily cost?"
"Thirty cents," Qin replied.
"Thirty? That's probably the cheapest paper on the market," Zheng said. "Can we even make money at that price?"
Yang Wendong shook his head. "There'll be a tiny margin, but we're not expecting huge profits from this."
Even the most profitable newspaper in Hong Kong couldn't compete with the revenue from a single residential project by Changxing Real Estate.
What he wanted was reach—a massive reporter network spanning the city. That way, when the time came, he'd have real-time information and a platform to share whatever message he needed to reach the public.
Especially with the 1963 drought looming, control of public messaging could help mitigate widespread panic and disruption.
Qin Zhiye added, "If we weren't worried about undercutting competitors, we could price it even lower."
"Right. Those other papers have their own backers. No need to provoke them," Yang Wendong nodded. "But as long as we grow our readership the right way, nobody can complain.
Still, even though we're positioned as a budget newspaper, the content must be high quality. Focus on Hong Kong's real-life stories. Make them as authentic and relatable as possible."
"Understood. We'll focus on value for money," Qin said with a grin.
That phrase—value for money—had been a casual remark from Yang Wendong, but it had spread through Changxing Group's internal vocabulary. The concept existed even in this era, but it was rare and not widely practiced.
Qin added, "We'll release our first issue the day after tomorrow. I'll send you the layout tomorrow."
"Great. What's the marketing plan?"
"I've coordinated with Zhang Hui. His radio station will run some promos. Honghua Daily and Ming Pao will also mention it—but those won't drive immediate sales.
So I'm reviving our original strategy for Honghua Daily: giving newspaper vendors a per-copy commission—two cents each."
"Two cents? That's a big cut from a thirty-cent paper," Yang Wendong said, amused.
In effect, that was over 6% of the sale price. Like bottled water in the future, the real cost wasn't the product—it was the distribution.
"It's just a temporary subsidy," Qin explained. "Maybe half a month to a month. We'll adjust once we see how sales go."
"Alright, let's go with that," Yang Wendong agreed.
It might be a bit old-fashioned, but giving kickbacks to distributors was one of the most timeless and effective marketing strategies.
"Also," Qin said, turning to Zheng Yuhua, "I'll run some ads for your Maritime Academy. I heard you're short on students?"
"Haha, thanks. I was going to place ads anyway," Zheng laughed.
"Internal cooperation is always good," Yang Wendong nodded.
The Kwai Chung shipyard would take time to build, but the adjacent Maritime Academy was already finished. Changxing Real Estate had purchased a 100,000-square-foot plot and built a school, dorms, library, basketball courts, soccer fields—everything needed.
Most buildings were just two to three stories high, maximizing the land's use.
By the end of last year, construction was complete. Enrollment began, and employees' families were given priority. But attendance was low—perhaps because the location was too far, or the tuition still a bit expensive. They hadn't hit their 250-student target.
Qin Zhiye said, "Understood. If Oriental Daily can hit 20,000 or 30,000 daily sales, that'll be a huge help to all our businesses."
"Let's set our sights higher," Yang Wendong said with a smile. "Hong Kong's economy is growing. More people will start buying papers—some might even buy more than one."
"Then our goal is 50,000 copies," Qin laughed.
January 9th – Oriental Daily launches across all newspaper stands in Hong Kong.
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