When the morning auction session opened, a flood of retail investors immediately sold their Hutchison Whampoa shares to Lin Baicheng at HK$9 per share. Compared to yesterday's HK$7.45 closing price, this was a premium of roughly 20%, more than enough to satisfy many small shareholders.
Of course, Lin Baicheng knew he was fortunate. Because he moved on Hutchison Whampoa early, the takeover battle that erupted around Wheelock & Co. in his previous life never happened in this timeline. Back then, Wheelock's share price had skyrocketed more than threefold during the acquisition saga, breaking past HK$100 at its peak. With gains like that, even short-term spikes created massive expectations among investors—a mere 20% premium would never have tempted anyone to sell.
But now things were different. This was the first acquisition attempt, and the Kweks (the Kee Tak Zun family) hadn't stepped forward to declare any intention of fighting for control. With no narrative of a looming bidding war, there was no imagination premium. Many shareholders were perfectly happy with 20% and began unloading their shares.
Naturally, some investors still wanted to watch a little longer. Lin Baicheng was looking to buy 60 million shares; they felt no need to sell immediately. There might be upside later, after all.
Meanwhile, above HK$9, no major funds dared to buy aggressively. Competing against Lin Baicheng at such a price risked trapping themselves at an expensive level.
Even Li Ka-shing, who had purchased Hutchison shares the previous day, refused to sweep the market above HK$9. He simply didn't have enough spare capital. Even if he managed to acquire some shares at that price, if Lin Baicheng secured most of what he needed at HK$9, Li Ka-shing's position would become a long-term hold—something he absolutely did not want.
Li Ka-shing was only trying to make a quick profit, not marry himself to Hutchison Whampoa. As many newspapers said this morning, no one could guarantee that the company would flourish after Lin Baicheng became the controlling shareholder.
Still, Li Ka-shing didn't believe those negative newspaper predictions. How could so many newspapers unanimously criticize Lin Baicheng? He guessed—correctly—that Lin was manipulating public opinion to push retail investors into selling.
Indeed, the pessimistic reports in today's papers were commissioned by Lin Baicheng himself. Cheng Yufeng had arranged the contacts, paying several newspapers to publish bearish stories about Lin. The goal was simple: lower expectations, nudge shareholders into selling, and help Lin collect enough shares at HK$9.
A 20% premium was hardly a burden to him.
The Hutchison shares he purchased from HSBC were held in a different account from his original holdings. So, while his negative media campaign was running, Lin also instructed his people to sell those separate-account shares back to his acquisition team and merge everything into one master account.
This maneuver cost extra fees, but outwardly it created a powerful illusion—waves of shareholders dumping large quantities of Hutchison shares into his hands. The faster he appeared to buy, the more investors would believe the market expected Hutchison Whampoa to perform poorly under his control, and the more likely they would panic-sell.
In the first five-minute window, thanks to his controlled transfers, the acquisition team recorded more than 2 million shares purchased.
In the second five minutes, the staff of Baisheng Securities announced they had acquired around 5 million shares in total.
In the third five minutes, the tally reached 10 million.
Fourth: 15 million.
Fifth: 20 million.
Sixth: 25 million.
Every five minutes, the total rose by about 5 million shares. In just half an hour, they had acquired nearly half of the goal.
Of Lin's own 12 million shares, he used almost 10 million for these staged left-hand-to-right-hand transfers. By the sixth window, nearly all the purchases were from real investors.
The public, of course, had no idea that so many of these transactions were internal shuffling. All they saw was that more and more people were selling to Lin at HK$9. At this pace, he could easily reach 60 million shares this morning and end the acquisition.
And once he reached 60 million shares, outsiders would believe his stake in Hutchison Whampoa had risen to 40%, making him the controlling shareholder. With no more need to buy—and no competitors left—the stock price would inevitably fall.
So selling now, while the price was still HK$9, seemed like the smartest move.
Once the real five-minute acquisition totals began naturally exceeding five million shares, Lin no longer needed to fake transactions. He kept the remaining 2 million of his own shares untouched and stopped shifting stock between accounts.
Within just one hour, his people across the four major exchanges had acquired 60 million Hutchison Whampoa shares. Of these, 10 million were his own recycled stock; the remaining 50 million were genuine purchases, costing him HK$450 million.
The moment Baisheng Securities announced that they had acquired enough shares and would stop buying, Hutchison Whampoa's stock price collapsed, plunging below HK$7. Those who had not sold at HK$9 and who doubted the company's future rushed to dump their shares.
Public records now suggested that Lin Baicheng held 162 million shares, or 40.5% of the company. But the truth was slightly different—he held 152 million, about 38%.
So after completing the "60-million-share" acquisition, he did not stop buying. Instead, he instructed Anyuan to quietly pick up more shares once the price dropped below HK$7. This time, however, they used a different account to avoid exposing his continued accumulation.
With those arrangements in motion, Lin temporarily left the market alone. He asked Cheng Yufeng to notify Hutchison Whampoa CEO Warren Weir that he would visit the company that afternoon and that all senior executives of the highest rank should be present.
Learning this, Weir could only sigh helplessly. He had not expected Lin's acquisition to go so smoothly—40% control in a single morning. Even if the Kee Tak Zun family had planned to contest control, it was now far too late.
The reality was clear: the company's largest shareholder had changed. Control would pass to Lin Baicheng. Faced with that fact, Warren Weir had no choice but to cooperate.