Chapter 152: Competing for the Commercial Radio License
As a time traveler from the modern world, his usual sources of entertainment had always been his mobile phone and computer.
He barely watched TV anymore, only occasionally turning it on to relax a bit.
As for radio? That was practically an antique. When he first arrived in this era, he couldn't afford one. And when he did have money, he skipped over it and went straight to television.
In fact, he often found the television programming of this time unappealing. Reading the newspaper was often better. This was also the reason why he had paid so little attention to radio up until now.
Qin Zhiye said, "Mr. Yang, the influence of radio is actually far greater than that of newspapers. It aligns very well with your overall goals."
As an old hand in the newspaper business with years of experience, Qin Zhiye fully understood that his boss wasn't in the media business to make money.
Purely in terms of profits, even if you combined all the newspapers in Hong Kong, they probably still wouldn't compare to the profit made from Mr. Yang's Post-it Notes business.
"Mm." Yang Wendong nodded. "So what's the deal with this commercial radio station? How many stations are there in Hong Kong right now?"
Qin Zhiye answered, "At present, there are only two radio stations in Hong Kong. One is the government-run Hong Kong Public Radio, and the other is an English-language station run by a subsidiary of the Jardine Matheson Group. This new license being released by the colonial government is for a third, privately operated commercial station."
"A third station? I bet a lot of people are eyeing that," Yang Wendong said.
In an era when television wasn't widespread, radio was often the fastest way people could receive urgent news—at least half a day faster than the newspapers—and signals could reach even remote areas.
But Qin Zhiye shook his head. "Not really. There aren't actually that many parties interested. The reason is because this license doesn't come with any infrastructure. Whoever wins the bid has to fund everything themselves.
Just building a signal transmission tower and acquiring the necessary equipment would cost a fortune.
Also, Hong Kong already has two well-established radio stations. Competing with them won't be easy. With newspapers, a person can buy several different ones. But radio? You can only tune in to one channel at a time. Running a radio station also requires a much larger and more expensive team.
And then there's the audience. The number of people in Hong Kong who actually own a radio is pretty low—probably only a few tens of thousands."
"That few?" Yang Wendong was genuinely surprised. "Are radios really that expensive?"
Qin Zhiye nodded. "Very expensive. Like televisions, they aren't manufactured locally in Hong Kong. They all have to be imported. Even the cheaper Japanese ones cost at least a hundred or two hundred Hong Kong dollars, and the sound quality isn't even that good. The high-end ones from Europe or America can cost several hundred, even over a thousand—more expensive than some televisions.
Most families simply can't afford a radio."
"That makes sense. If everything's imported, the price naturally goes up," Yang Wendong agreed.
Although he didn't know the full breakdown of costs for imported goods during this era, he remembered how in the mainland after the economic reforms, imported electronics were ridiculously expensive. There were even cases where a single air conditioner cost more than an entire apartment in Guangdong.
Qin Zhiye continued, "So, purely from a financial standpoint, running a radio station requires heavy investment, but there's no guarantee of return. That's why a lot of capital groups have lost interest.
Only someone like you—who actually cares about media—would take this seriously."
"Right. I really am interested in media. Go look into the full details of this for me," Yang Wendong nodded.
He meant what he said. His primary interest was in media. Money, or rather profit, wasn't his main concern.
Whether it was his current product lines in industrial manufacturing, or the Hong Kong real estate market—which to him was practically a future ATM—he had plenty of ways to generate substantial profit.
But he needed control over media channels. As a time traveler, his rise had been extremely fast, and regardless of the path he chose, his foundation wasn't yet stable.
The established powers—whether it was the future Four Great Families or tycoons like the shipping magnate Bao—their successes had all taken decades, slowly building connections and foundations. Even without control over media, they had resilience. But for someone like him, media control was a necessary layer of protection.
Qin Zhiye nodded. "Understood. I'll dig into it and report back once I have everything."
"Mm…" Yang Wendong then asked, "If we do get the radio license, I assume we won't need to broadcast right away? We haven't even finished setting up the newspaper properly yet."
Qin Zhiye laughed. "No need to worry, Mr. Yang. Nothing moves that fast. The license simply gives us the legal right to operate a station. Everything else we'll have to build from scratch.
Even if we win the bid, the hardware investment alone will take months—probably more than half a year.
And the biggest issue isn't equipment, it's people. We'll need to recruit and train announcers, program planners, and marketing staff. Unlike newspapers, the radio industry doesn't have a large talent pool we can poach from."
"True." After hearing that, Yang Wendong realized the challenge was far more complex than he'd initially thought.
There had only been two radio stations in Hong Kong up until now—one government-run, and the other part of a powerful British company. Poaching talent from them would be near impossible.
In this kind of project, human capital was even more critical than hardware. Building a team might even require training staff from scratch—just like how TVB would later establish its own training academy. Probably for the exact same reason.
Qin Zhiye nodded again. "At least we'll have office space. Once the new Hong Kong Chinese Daily headquarters building is finished, over half the building will still be empty. Giving a floor to a sister company sounds like a solid plan."
"That works. You're all part of the same media family," Yang Wendong chuckled.
Owning his own property definitely made things easier when it came to expanding operations. Otherwise, even finding office space would be a hassle.
...
Another half month passed, and the newspaper market in Hong Kong had more or less grown accustomed to the presence of a color newspaper.
When Yang Wendong once again visited the temporary offices of the Hong Kong Chinese Daily, Qin Zhiye came over with a data report and said with a cheerful tone, "Mr. Yang, our newspaper's sales have been gradually increasing. More and more people are buying it. Right now, we're averaging between 3,500 and 4,000 copies per day."
"That fast?" Yang Wendong was pleasantly surprised. It was notoriously difficult to grow newspaper sales. Many Hong Kong newspapers had been around for decades and still remained second-tier players.
"We've looked into it," Qin Zhiye said. "There are two main reasons. First, the quality really is good. The color printing makes it more enjoyable to read. A lot of people who tried it once found they couldn't go back to black-and-white papers.
Among these readers, those who are better off financially continue to buy our color paper. Of course, our content is on par with, if not better than, other newspapers. If it weren't, there's no way we'd be replacing them on newsstands."
"The second reason is Xiong Sheng's wuxia novel Celestial Sword of the Firmament. As the story unfolds, it's becoming more and more exciting. Even I feel tempted to urge him for more chapters. A lot of readers are getting hooked," Qin Zhiye said.
"That good? I haven't really taken a look yet." Yang Wendong chuckled, then asked, "So, compared to Jin Yong's novels, how big is the gap?"
"Hmm..." Qin Zhiye paused to think. "It's hard to say. I'm actually reading both."
"And if you had to choose just one? Which would it be?" Yang Wendong followed up.
"If I had to pick one… I'd probably still go with Jin Yong," Qin Zhiye admitted after some thought.
"Then that means it's still not quite at Jin Yong's level," Yang Wendong said with a laugh. "But that's normal. Xiong Sheng is still pretty young—it's expected that he falls a bit short compared to Jin Yong.
But give it a few more years, maybe even ten, and the gap might disappear."
Gu Long, in truth, was only three years older than Yang Wendong—just 22 this year. At that age, most people still struggled to write an 800-word essay, but he was already producing quality wuxia novels. That was an extraordinary talent—one that stood on par with Jin Yong.
Still, when it came to prodigious talent, a younger writer always needed a bit more time to catch up.
"Mr. Yang, there's something I need to bring to your attention," Qin Zhiye said after hesitating for a moment. He had clearly been debating whether to mention it.
"What is it?" Yang Wendong asked.
"It's about Xiong Sheng. Lately, he's been drinking—heavily—because of writer's block. At first it wasn't a big deal, but now it seems he's drinking way too much."
"Alcohol abuse?" Yang Wendong frowned. "Is it serious?"
Many fans of wuxia novels in his previous life knew about Gu Long's drinking. According to the research Yang had recently done, Gu Long's life had been quite tragic. Abandoned by his father at a young age, he later lost his mother and gradually became a delinquent drifting through life.
It was only out of financial desperation that he began writing wuxia novels, eventually becoming one of the most famous wuxia authors in the Chinese-speaking world.
Now, Yang Wendong's intervention had already changed the course of Gu Long's life, offering him better opportunities and a much more stable environment. But some of his underlying issues, like his tendency to drink, remained.
"It's serious," Qin Zhiye confirmed. "Sometimes he drinks so much I worry less about whether he can finish the novel and more about whether his body can even handle it."
"Then we've got to find a way to get him to cut back," Yang Wendong said with a furrowed brow.
He was well aware that in his past life, Gu Long had died from issues caused by excessive drinking. And now that they were in Hong Kong, no one could predict what might happen.
Over the past few months, they'd seen each other enough to become something like casual friends. If there was a way to help, Yang Wendong was willing to step in.
Of course, he wasn't saying Gu Long had to stop drinking entirely—but at the very least, it needed to be controlled.
"That might be tough," Qin Zhiye said with concern. "If we outright stop him from drinking, it'll feel like we're infringing on his freedom. And he gets pretty moody after drinking."
"Most people do," Yang Wendong muttered, then added, "There should be psychologists in Hong Kong now, right? Find a good one and have them talk with Xiong Sheng. For someone so young to be this dependent on alcohol, there's definitely a deeper reason."
"A psychologist? Okay, I'll look into that," Qin Zhiye agreed with a nod.
"How's the situation with the commercial radio license coming along?" Yang Wendong asked.
"I've already submitted our application to the Commerce and Economic Development Bureau. The bidding event is scheduled for the end of November," Qin Zhiye replied. "But it's not a simple price auction. They'll also evaluate our development plan.
The colonial government isn't offering this station just to make money—they want to meet public and social needs. So they'll want to award it to someone who genuinely wants to operate it seriously."
"Which means we need to find someone with actual experience in radio, right?" Yang Wendong nodded.
The British colonial government wasn't exactly virtuous, but as a governing body—even a colonial one—they still aimed for social stability. If things got chaotic, they risked losing their hold on power.
Because of this, they didn't always make short-sighted, profit-first decisions. Sometimes they made moves with long-term social stability in mind.
"Exactly," Qin Zhiye confirmed. "I've already started reaching out to people in this field. There aren't many, but headhunting firms should be able to find a few candidates.
However, we're not the only ones eyeing this license. The strongest competitor is a man named Ho Chor-sze. He's a descendant of the Ho Tung family. Rumor has it he split from the main family to start his own business, but no one knows how true that is."
"Ho Chor-sze?" Yang Wendong was familiar with the Ho family. In the 1920s and '30s, the Ho Tung family had been one of the top business families in Hong Kong. The Industrial and Commercial Daily News was still owned by them.
But Mr. Ho Tung had passed away several years ago, and the family had been keeping a low profile since then.
Ho Chor-sze was one of the better-known members of the new generation. Rumor had it he was an illegitimate child, but he had long been active in media. His most famous venture was founding Commercial Television—though it folded after just three years because the colonial government forced it to air educational content during prime time.
"That's right," Qin Zhiye said. "Mr. Ho ran a radio station in Macau for years, and he tried to broadcast into Hong Kong, but the distance made the signal weak and unreliable.
Now that the colonial government is offering a new license, he's naturally one of the most active contenders."
"Having relevant experience is definitely an advantage," Yang Wendong said thoughtfully.
"Exactly, so we need to establish our own advantages to compete. That part will have to come from you, Mr. Yang.
The radio station license is handled by the Commerce and Economic Development Bureau. I've already made contact with people there—dinner, courtesy payments, all taken care of.
But the people I can reach are all mid-level. If we want to talk to higher-ups, you'll have to handle that yourself," Qin Zhiye said.
"Yeah, that makes sense," Yang Wendong nodded.
To connect with top government officials, the company boss usually had to step in directly—unless the company was already so large that it could afford to ignore local authorities. But in Hong Kong, which was just a city, that kind of influence was rare.
"I'll make the initial connections," Qin Zhiye offered.
"No need." Yang Wendong waved his hand. "You're not the right person to be in the middle for this. I'll ask Zhao Chengguang—see if he can help connect me. He has solid connections in Hong Kong. And even if he can't reach them directly, someone he knows probably can."
Hong Kong was a small city. The network wasn't that complex—usually just two or three degrees of separation were enough to find the person you needed.
"Understood," Qin Zhiye said with a nod.
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