In the afternoon, Lin Baicheng arrived at Hutchison Whampoa with Cheng Yufeng and several members of his finance team.
Led by CEO Warren Weir, the senior management of Hutchison Whampoa welcomed Lin—at least on the surface—and escorted him to the conference room.
"Everyone," Lin began, "although you probably already know who I am, I still feel it's necessary to formally introduce myself. I am Lin Baicheng, owner of Galaxy Game Company and Asia Television Limited, and now the largest shareholder of Hutchison Whampoa."
As he spoke, Cheng Yufeng distributed photocopies of the shareholder certification showing Lin's holdings.
Weir and the other executives glanced through the documents and quickly confirmed the truth—Lin Baicheng was indeed now the company's No.1 shareholder.
While they examined the papers, Lin continued,
"With the shareholding I now hold, I will automatically obtain a seat on the Board of Directors and be elected as the Board Chairman. I hope everyone here will support me in managing the company and, under my decisions, work together to grow Hutchison Whampoa into a stronger enterprise."
"Mr. Lin," Weir said.
They had already introduced themselves earlier, so he skipped formalities this time.
"We have already formulated a development plan for the company. Changing the company's direction abruptly may negatively affect its progress. I believe you also do not want what the newspapers speculate—to see the company decline after you assume control."
Vice President Richard Li added,
"Of course we will support you in leading the company, Mr. Lin. But corporate growth doesn't happen overnight. Hutchison Whampoa's development has only just begun improving. Maintaining our current strategy is the best way forward."
Executives such as Sherman Hsia and Peter Weir also nodded in agreement.
Lin Baicheng was not surprised. In a listed company, becoming the largest shareholder did not instantly equal complete control. True control required commanding the Board of Directors.
Shareholding granted influence over the general shareholders' meeting—but those were held only a few times a year. The Board, however, governed the company continuously, and management ultimately answered to the Board.
At Hutchison Whampoa, the nine Board seats included several senior managers: CEO Warren Weir, Vice Presidents Richard Li and Chan Hing-han, business chief Sherman Hsia, and head of HR & administration Peter Weir—all sitting directors.
With management's support, a major shareholder could effortlessly secure control of the Board and thus the entire company.
Of course, even without management support, the largest shareholder could still seize control—but only slowly, over time, by replacing directors and gradually embedding his own people into key positions. That process, however, required significant time and effort.
Lin Baicheng had no intention of taking the long route. He wanted the management team's cooperation. After all, firing them would mean searching externally for talent to rebuild the company's leadership, and Hutchison Whampoa would suffer months—if not years—of disruption.
Besides, Weir and his team were truly capable people. Warren Weir had saved the collapsing Hutchison International, merged it with Whampoa Dock Company, and built today's Hutchison Whampoa—a company valued near HK$3 billion. His ability was unquestionable, and the rest of the management team was likewise talented.
Lin intended to see whether he could win them over—let them develop Hutchison Whampoa under his overall strategic direction. If it worked, perfect. He would gain both a healthy company and a powerful team. If not… he would have no choice but to gradually remove Weir's team and replace them with his own people.
"This is the first proposal I intend to submit after becoming the Chairman of the Board," Lin said. "Please look it over carefully. I hope I can count on your support when the time comes—just as I hope you'll support the company's development under my leadership."
He nodded to Cheng Yufeng, who distributed a set of documents—one copy for each senior executive.
It was a stock incentive plan.
The beneficiaries included the management team, top-performing employees, and individuals who made significant contributions to the company.
According to the proposal, Hutchison Whampoa would allocate 20% of the previous year's net profit each year to purchase company stock. These shares would be centrally managed and distributed as incentives based on contributions. The plan would continue until the company had accumulated shares equal to 5% of total equity.
The plan also stipulated:
Incentive shares were only available if the company generated profit.
Recipients would face a three-year lock-up period during which the shares could not be sold.
Anyone who resigned voluntarily or was terminated for major misconduct would have their incentive shares reclaimed.
Additional restrictions applied to prevent abuse.
In other words, to earn equity incentives, management and top employees had to grow the company and commit to staying for years. Otherwise, the incentive shares would be meaningless.
"This is… quite attractive," Warren Weir admitted as he read through the plan. He wished the proposal could be approved immediately.
As CEO, Weir already enjoyed generous compensation. When he had been recruited, he received a five-year incentive contract equal to 2.5% of the company's annual net profit. Based on last year's net profit—slightly over HK$100 million—that contract alone had awarded him HK$2.5 million, bringing his total annual income to over HK$3 million.
Over HK$3 million per year was extremely high. But Weir knew last year's strong earnings came from liquidating short-term investments; without that, the company would have barely avoided losses. Worse, his incentive contract expired in 1980, and it was already 1978.
Yet in Lin's stock incentive proposal, the management and top talent could collectively receive up to 5% of company equity, roughly 20 million shares. These were to be distributed according to contribution—not evenly. As CEO, Weir would undoubtedly be among the largest recipients.
If he secured just one million shares, that alone would be worth around HK$7 million—essentially free money. And if the company grew under Lin's ownership, those shares would only increase in value.
If even Warren Weir—the highest-paid executive—was tempted, the others were practically glowing with excitement. Everyone clearly understood the benefits. No one would reject the chance to earn more.