Chapter 265: A Decision from Yanjing and the Purchase of a Transistor Production Line
"This is definitely an approach. As an architect, someone like I. M. Pei must have studied museums deeply." Yang Wendong nodded in agreement.
For a renowned master architect, designing a modest twenty- or thirty-story building in Hong Kong was certainly a bit of an underutilization of talent. In contrast, the technical demands of skyscrapers, libraries, museums, schools, stadiums, and science centers in Western countries were much higher.
Yang Wendong then asked, "The design proposals for the Four Seasons Hotel—are the submissions from the four shortlisted firms almost finalized?"
"Yes, but I. M. Pei's team is the fastest. Our deadline is two weeks earlier than the others, so they submitted their designs first," Zheng Zhijie replied.
"Alright. I want to take a look at their design too," Yang Wendong said.
The museum project was still just a concept. First, it needed approval from the mainland; without access to relics, there would be no content. Then, it needed approval from the Hong Kong government. Even if the government favored free-market policies, a museum was part of public infrastructure, so official permissions were inevitable.
Besides, Yang Wendong was still hoping the government would allocate him a large plot of land in a good location. Buying it outright would be difficult and expensive, especially at this point in time.
So for now, he decided to put the project on hold. Once the mainland gave the green light, he could move on to the next steps. In the meantime, one of his biggest current priorities was the Four Seasons Hotel.
"Alright, when Mr. Pei arrives, I'll bring him here," Zheng Zhijie replied with a smile.
Meanwhile, in Yanjing:
A group of officials sat around a meeting table, dressed plainly but exuding an unmistakable air of authority.
The leader of the group said, "Everyone, we've received the proposal from China Resources in Hong Kong regarding the Hong Kong museum. What do you all think?"
Someone replied, "I think it's a good idea. We're already planning to sell some antiques to Hong Kong buyers in exchange for foreign currency to purchase grain. It doesn't matter who the buyer is. As for Mr. Yang Wendong's idea of leasing antiques we can't sell, that's also viable. It gives us a way to generate foreign exchange."
Another chimed in, "Exactly. I've visited American museums—many of their exhibits are leased from other parties or borrowed from national collections."
"Why would they lease?" someone else asked, confused.
"Because in capitalist societies, museums need to make money. Visitors want to learn about history and culture, but if the exhibits never change, who's going to come twice?"
"That's right. Foreign antiques are expensive, and many belong to national institutions and are not for sale. Leasing makes it feasible. The borrowing museum makes money from ticket sales, and the lender receives rent and uses it to preserve the artifacts. These preservation costs are enormous—air conditioning alone burns through foreign currency."
"Oh, I see!"
"Our artifact maintenance does cost a fortune."
"Then renting out some less fragile pieces sounds like a good plan."
"I don't like it. Some relics are just too delicate. Can they really be transported to Hong Kong?"
"You're overthinking it. No one said we'd ship everything. Just lease what's safe to move. The rest can stay put. It's all negotiable."
More people joined the discussion, and it became clear that most supported the idea.
"Alright, let's put it to a vote," the chairman said, raising his hand. "All in favor?"
Everyone quieted. Some looked around before raising their hands. A few remained silent.
"Nine to three," the chairman concluded. "That means we have majority approval. Internally, we've passed it. But we'll still need approval from the higher-ups."
"I follow the Party's lead," one dissenting voice said.
"Don't we all?" the chairman chuckled.
The next day, in a courtyard in Yanjing:
"This is a great idea," boomed a deep voice. A senior official looked over the proposal. "It solves our immediate problem with foreign exchange and gives us a long-term revenue stream. A very clever commercial strategy."
His aide smiled and added, "Yes, we can sell some artifacts without high historical significance to the Hong Kong museum and use the proceeds to buy grain. As for the more valuable relics, we lease them. That way, we earn foreign exchange and let overseas Chinese learn about their own heritage. Everybody wins."
"There won't be any issues transporting the antiques to Hong Kong?"
"That needs internal discussion. We'll only ship pieces that are safe to handle. For fragile items, we might need to buy foreign protective equipment."
"As long as it earns us foreign exchange and doesn't result in national treasures being lost, I'm on board," the senior official said. "Now, this Yang Wendong… I've heard his name but haven't paid much attention. Tell me more about him."
"Yes, sir. Yang Wendong was originally just a poor youth living in Hong Kong's slums—what they call 'squatter huts'. In 1958, he—"
As the aide explained, the official's interest grew visibly.
"Impressive! From rags to riches, all by himself. If he had been born during the early Republic, he might've ended up a local warlord," the official laughed.
"Indeed. What's even more admirable is that after getting rich, he continued to care for the poor. His factories employ tens of thousands, pay fair wages, and even distribute food regularly. He's considered a philanthropist in Hong Kong. Many people's lives have improved because of him."
"Well done. If only all 600 million of our citizens could follow his example. Keep me updated on Yang Wendong—I find him very interesting."
"Yes, sir. In fact, I feel the same. His abilities are remarkable. Huo Yingdong speaks very highly of him—not just for his integrity but also for his sharp business mind. He always comes up with sustainable commercial models. Just look at this antique leasing idea: our cultural ministry benefits, the Hong Kong people benefit, and he makes a profit too. No one loses. It's a long-term win."
"This is the true essence of lasting cooperation. When everyone profits, relationships endure," the official nodded.
"Absolutely."
"Tell China Resources to build a strong relationship with him. We have many products that we can't sell easily within the country, but maybe he can move them abroad. Let him take a cut; we'll benefit too. Right now, our country desperately needs foreign exchange."
"What about this current project?"
"Approved."
"Understood. I'll make the arrangements."
"Don't rush. First, organize the information: which items can be sold, which can be leased, and estimate how much foreign exchange we can earn. Once that's clear, then go talk to him."
"Yes, sir. I was just too eager. The Ministry of Culture is also anxious to contribute."
"I understand. But haste makes waste. Partner with China Resources. They know how things work in Hong Kong."
"Yes, sir."
February 19th, Hong Kong, Lantern Festival.
Yang Wendong met with the renowned architect I.M. Pei at the Changxing Tower.
This was the same man who would go on to design the iconic Bank of China Tower in the 1980s—a blade-like skyscraper that became one of Hong Kong's most striking architectural landmarks. Remarkably, the Bank of China Tower was built at a cost of only $130 million USD and had a total floor area of 129,000 square meters. In comparison, HSBC's headquarters, constructed around the same time, cost over $1 billion USD with less usable area—although HSBC's extravagance had a lot to do with branding and prestige. Still, this contrast highlighted the excellent cost-performance ratio of the Bank of China Tower.
When it came to commercial buildings, whether they were hotels, office towers, or otherwise, cost control in construction was always a top priority.
"Mr. Pei, it's a pleasure to meet you," Yang Wendong said warmly as he shook hands.
For a true master of his craft—especially one who would become an academician of architectural societies worldwide—respect was certainly due. These individuals were part of the bedrock of human civilization.
"Mr. Yang, likewise," I.M. Pei smiled. "Even back in the United States, I've heard of your name. Your Post-it notes are hugely popular—they're simple but incredibly effective and improve work efficiency. And your invention of the rolling suitcase—well, that was a stroke of genius. Traveling has become so much more convenient."
"Haha, you flatter me," Yang Wendong chuckled. "Please, have a seat."
Indeed, his inventions had contributed greatly to human productivity—whether the Post-it note, adhesive hooks, or the rolling suitcase.
Once everyone settled into the meeting room and exchanged a few pleasantries, I.M. Pei got straight to business.
"Mr. Yang, I've come to Hong Kong this time mainly to present the architectural design proposal for your group's Four Seasons Hotel. I hope you'll have a look."
With that, a blonde assistant accompanying I.M. Pei unstrapped a large cylinder from his shoulder and extracted a roll of architectural drawings, about 1.5 meters in length. He unfurled it to reveal a plan about 1.5 by 2 meters in size.
On the plan was a semi-circular high-rise building. Beneath it, a series of round structures spanned almost the entire site footprint.
"There's no outdoor swimming pool?" Yang Wendong asked. He didn't quite understand the more technical aspects of the blueprints.
"No, there isn't," I.M. Pei replied. "Given the limited size of the site, I've prioritized maximizing usable space and guest convenience."
"Mm, that makes sense. Could you walk us through each floor?" Yang Wendong nodded.
The plot on Queen's Road was already considered sizable by Central district standards, but compared to five-star hotels overseas, it was rather modest. That made smart design even more critical.
"Of course," I.M. Pei said, pointing to the blueprints. "The first floor will be the lobby and security checkpoint…"
For the next two hours, I.M. Pei carefully explained each detail of the hotel's layout—lobby, guest rooms, function spaces, staff-only areas, and more. Yang Wendong, Zheng Zhijie, and several future Four Seasons Hotel executives all listened intently. They occasionally interjected with questions, which I.M. Pei answered thoroughly.
Eventually, as the intense discussion began to wind down, I.M. Pei summarized, "Mr. Yang, this is my proposed design for the Four Seasons Hotel. It includes a total of 666 rooms: three presidential suites, 108 executive suites, and the remainder standard single and double rooms.
"There is also a conference center that can accommodate up to 1,000 people, six banquet halls each capable of holding 30 Chinese-style banquet tables, two large fitness centers, three bars, and even a private movie theater. In addition, there are several dozen small retail units that can be used for restaurants, shops, or anything else you see fit."
"Very nice," Yang Wendong said, then asked, "What about the interior design?"
"That's in the second set of blueprints," Pei said. His assistant then unrolled another plan of the same size.
"Mr. Yang, given your goal of creating an ultra-luxury hotel, we've gone with a design theme that's…"
After listening for some time, Yang Wendong turned to another man: "Old Tang, are you following all this?"
Tang Xingzhi, recently recruited from InterContinental Hotels in the U.S. via an international headhunter, nodded. He was slated to lead the Four Seasons Hotel project.
"I understand it all," Tang Xingzhi said. "This is all very standard in high-end hotel design, and Mr. Pei has clearly thought through many important operational details. Very impressive."
"Good." Yang Wendong then turned to Zheng Zhijie. "Old Zheng, have your construction and interior teams build a few model rooms based on these plans. How long will that take?"
Zheng Zhijie did a quick mental calculation. "It'll take about a month, three weeks if we really rush it."
"Alright, get on it immediately. The materials can be a bit cheaper. I just need to see it with my own eyes," Yang Wendong said.
This was a major investment. This would be his first hotel under the future global Four Seasons chain. Naturally, he had to take it seriously. Even in past residential projects, he had insisted on seeing the physical layouts and finishings with his own eyes.
"Understood," Zheng Zhijie replied.
Yang Wendong then turned back to I.M. Pei. "Mr. Pei, because of the scale of this investment, I need to physically see a few room layouts in real life."
"Completely understandable," I.M. Pei said with a smile.
"Then let's go ahead with that," Yang Wendong said.
For someone like him, visualizing a 3D structure from a 2D blueprint required too much mental strain. Seeing it in person was much easier.
After some additional discussion on hotel design, Yang Wendong brought up the museum project.
Upon hearing the details, I.M. Pei asked, "Mr. Yang, how large do you envision this museum being?"
"I can't say yet," Yang Wendong replied honestly. "There are still many variables, and I'd need a professional architect's opinion anyway."
Pei nodded. "Designing a museum involves many considerations. We'll handle the technical side, of course, but we need some basic information: estimated visitor volume, the size of the artifacts, how they'll be transported, and what level of security you require. All these factors will influence the building's structure."
Yang Wendong thought for a moment. "Assume Hong Kong's future population doubles. Factor in economic levels similar to Tokyo today, and also imagine Hong Kong as a major tourist destination. Based on that, your team should be able to estimate visitor traffic, right?"
The people around him—including Zheng Zhijie—looked at him, a bit stunned.
Could Hong Kong really rival Tokyo in population and economy? Become a major international tourist hub?
If it really reached that level, then not just museums—even real estate prices could multiply several times over.
No wonder, then, that his employees finally understood why their boss was willing to invest so heavily in real estate. It turned out this was the blueprint for Hong Kong's future that Yang Wendong had envisioned all along.
I.M. Pei was clearly a bit skeptical and said, "Mr. Yang, the data you provided certainly has its merits. I can use similar overseas cities as a reference to determine the appropriate scale of the museum. However, I do worry—won't such a large goal be a little too ambitious?"
As an architect, whether or not a commercial building succeeded didn't affect his income directly. His fee was mostly received upon completion. But if a structure like a museum ended up as a commercial failure, it could still negatively impact his professional reputation—especially since museums often became city landmarks.
More importantly, a good architect should offer suggestions that align with the client's goals and feasibility.
Yang Wendong smiled. "Let's proceed using the data I've given you for now. If necessary, we can build it in phases later."
"Understood. I'll need to gather some local data about Hong Kong first," I.M. Pei replied. "Has Mr. Yang selected a site yet?"
Yang Wendong shook his head. "Not yet, but it will definitely be on Hong Kong Island. As for the total land area, we'll need some time to finalize that."
It was certain that the museum would be on Hong Kong Island. Whether now or in the future, the city's economic core would remain there. Real estate was the only exception—its value was more about growth potential, so the Kowloon Peninsula made more sense for investors with limited capital.
"Alright, I'll take some time to tour a few museums in the U.S. for reference," I.M. Pei nodded.
"Sounds good. Mr. Pei, I appreciate all your effort," Yang Wendong said with sincerity. "Once the museum project is finalized, I'll open the design up to international bidding, just like we did for the Four Seasons Hotel. But your proposal will be given priority consideration."
For any major project, Yang Wendong would never just assign the work to one person, even if that person would eventually become an internationally celebrated architect and academic.
From a business perspective, if you walk into a store already intent on buying something from a specific seller, you're just offering yourself up to be overcharged. Even acclaimed professionals like I.M. Pei wouldn't reject more legitimate compensation.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Yang." I.M. Pei smiled.
Being part of the design of Hong Kong's first five-star hotel and potentially its first international-level museum was a major boost to his career. Moreover, Yang Wendong was clearly a rising titan, and having a strong relationship with him would be beneficial to I.M. Pei's ventures worldwide.
Over the next few days, the team from Changxing Real Estate accompanied I.M. Pei and his associates as they toured various parts of Hong Kong.
If the right opportunity arose, Yang Wendong did hope to form a long-term working relationship with Pei. A great architectural design could save huge costs in construction, energy consumption, and long-term maintenance. That's why top architectural firms could command as much as 5%—or more—of a project's total cost.
February 28:
Blueprints from several other architectural firms also arrived in Hong Kong.
Under the leadership of Tang Xingzhi and Zheng Zhijie, the internal team immediately began the review process. Yang Wendong occasionally joined in, though he wasn't an expert himself. He was waiting for these firms to build physical scale models so he could better visualize the proposed designs.
March 2:
Chairman's Office, Changxing Tower.
Yang Wendong was amusing his toddler son, who was just beginning to walk. He held the little one's hand, guiding his steps across the room.
Knock knock knock— There was a knock at the door.
Su Yiyi, holding the baby, said quickly, "That must be Mr. Wang. You should go talk business."
"Mm." Yang Wendong nodded and called out, "Come in!"
A middle-aged man stepped inside—it was Wang Zhiqun, recently returned from the United States.
"Mr. Yang, Madam," Wang Zhiqun greeted them politely.
"Over here, have a seat," Yang Wendong said, leading him to a sofa near the large window that offered a sweeping view of much of Hong Kong and the Victoria Harbour teeming with cargo ships.
He often liked to host meetings in this area. The ambiance and view helped clear the mind.
An assistant brought over hot tea for everyone.
"How did the transistor production line negotiations go?" Yang Wendong asked.
Wang Zhiqun responded, "I've been in discussions with Fairchild Semiconductor. They're willing to sell us a production line capable of manufacturing 15 million transistors per year."
"15 million? And the price?" Yang Wendong wasn't too surprised by the figure. It sounded large, but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that huge.
Historically, Fairchild had once set up operations in Hong Kong in the 1960s, with an annual output of 120 million transistors and a workforce of several thousand.
Unfortunately, the company later declined, and the Hong Kong government failed to provide serious support for developing the electronics industry, causing the city to miss out on becoming a high-end electronics hub.
Wang Zhiqun said, "The price is $450,000 USD. I also inquired about brand-new production lines—they cost at least $1 million and require a wait time of around a year.
This line from Fairchild has only been used for two years. I visited in person and estimate it's about 70% new. I brought some photos—you can take a look."
He handed over several photos from his briefcase.
Yang Wendong flipped through them and then asked, "Once the equipment arrives in Hong Kong, what about the technical personnel?"
"I've discussed that with Fairchild too," Wang Zhiqun replied. "They'll send engineers to train our staff here in Hong Kong. We can also send some English-speaking employees to the U.S. for training.
Operating a transistor production line is a technical endeavor. There are many nuances and potential pitfalls, so it's best if our in-house team members—preferably university-educated science majors—handle it."
"Of course." Yang Wendong nodded. "Alright, I'll send someone from headquarters to go to the U.S. They'll represent me in checking the equipment and negotiating the cooperation."
Although $450,000 USD wasn't a small amount, it was roughly equivalent to the cost of a secondhand cargo ship—definitely not worth a personal trip by the company's founder.
And with the business empire he was building, there would only be more of these mid-level investment decisions in the future. That's why he'd already started grooming a team within HQ to handle these tasks and serve as his eyes and ears abroad.
Just like when Changxing Shipping had acquired over a dozen secondhand cargo ships—besides Zheng Yuhua managing the project, a headquarters liaison had been involved to ensure proper oversight.
"Understood. I'll be heading back to the U.S. again soon," Wang Zhiqun said.
"Alright, but keep in mind that our future company, Rongyao Electronics, won't just manufacture transistors. We're also going to develop consumer electronics. I have two directions in mind—I want you to start looking into them…"
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