Chapter 264: The Multifaceted Benefits of the Hong Kong Museum Initiative
"Yes, open-air spaces are the safest," Yang Wendong agreed with a nod.
Before the era of compact wireless eavesdropping devices, nothing beat a spot with no one around when it came to privacy.
Huo Yingdong chuckled. "Great. Honestly, I've been meaning to visit you, Mr. Yang Wendong. I didn't expect to bump into you here today. There's a matter I'd like to ask your help with—it's a business proposal."
"A collaboration? In real estate?" Yang Wendong's interest was piqued.
Huo Yingdong was a seasoned veteran in Hong Kong's real estate scene. As early as the 1950s, he was already a well-known Chinese property tycoon. He pioneered the concepts of pre-sale and stratified property sales, which gave the city's property sector a massive boost.
Legend had it that back in the '50s, Huo Yingdong could invest just HKD 200,000 to launch a property project worth HKD 5 million and walk away with over HKD 1 million in profit.
No one knew exactly how much the Huo family was worth now, but it was certainly in the tens of millions—perhaps even into the hundreds. Had the government not suppressed him in 1967, it might never have been Li Ka-shing's era in the 1980s.
Huo Yingdong shook his head. "No, it's about shipping."
"Shipping?" Yang Wendong looked surprised. "Mr. Huo, are you entering the maritime business?"
"Not exactly," Huo Yingdong said with a wave of his hand. "I want to import a large amount of grain from overseas, and I'll need a fleet of cargo ships. I heard you recently bought nearly twenty vessels, so I thought we might work together on this."
"Grain?" Yang Wendong caught on quickly. He lowered his voice and asked, "You're transporting grain to the mainland?"
"Not buying—just transporting," Huo Yingdong clarified. "The mainland's recent harvests weren't great, and they need to import grain from overseas.
Asian shipping companies are stretched thin, but with your recent acquisitions, Mr. Yang Wendong, I thought you might be able to help."
Yang Wendong nodded. "How much grain are they importing? Is Hong Kong the main entry point?"
"I don't know the exact amount," Huo Yingdong admitted, "but last year they imported about 5.8 million tons. This year will probably be even more.
Hong Kong won't be the only entry point, but it will definitely be one of the most important. That means a lot of ships are needed here."
"Which countries are they importing from?" Yang Wendong asked.
"The United States, Canada, South America, Australia, Europe—they're trying not to rely on any one country," Huo Yingdong explained. "I've heard your vessels are used for shipping your goods to America and Europe. If they return carrying grain, wouldn't that be perfect?"
"It would," Yang Wendong nodded. "Let me talk to my team tomorrow. If everything looks good, I'll have them get in touch with your contacts?"
"No need to go through me," Huo Yingdong waved it off. "China Resources is handling this. I'm just helping them find reliable partners. I'll have someone from China Resources reach out directly."
"That works," Yang Wendong agreed. "But if the mainland is in a food shortage, are they still supplying Hong Kong?"
"Yes. There's an official supply agreement between the mainland and Hong Kong," Huo Yingdong confirmed. "Even when times are tough, they keep supplying us.
But it's obviously putting them under pressure. That's why this grain import initiative starts with supplying Hong Kong first—it lightens their load a bit and also saves on transportation costs.
Of course, it's just staple grains—vegetables and meat are still coming from the mainland."
"Got it," Yang Wendong said. "Once I've confirmed with my team, I'll welcome someone from China Resources to discuss terms."
"Great. You're always decisive, Mr. Yang Wendong," Huo Yingdong said approvingly. "You can handle the pricing with them directly."
"Of course."
…
The next morning, Yang Wendong arrived at Jili Tower.
"Mr. Yang Wendong," Zheng Yuhua greeted him, already expecting his visit.
"Let's sit down," Yang Wendong said. "How's the investigation going?"
He had asked Zheng Yuhua to look into the mainland grain imports right after meeting with Huo Yingdong at Wong Tai Sin Temple the day before.
"I got to work on it immediately," Zheng Yuhua said. "I even brought in Mr. Qin Zhiyi to help. According to our data, the mainland imported approximately 5.8 million tons of grain last year.
This year's import trend is already higher, which shows their growing demand."
Yang Wendong nodded. "So their shipping capacity isn't enough?"
"Likely not," Zheng Yuhua replied. "They never had a long-distance shipping fleet before, and trade with the West was limited.
Now with such high import volumes, there's a huge strain on shipping. China Resources has already contracted several overseas firms, but many are foreign companies charging premium rates.
Most Chinese shipping firms are too small or reluctant to take the job."
"There's nothing risky about shipping grain. These people are too paranoid—food trade isn't restricted," Yang Wendong said with a shake of his head.
Even with Cold War tensions, grain was rarely embargoed. If one side needs to buy and the other stands to profit, they'll do business.
"You're planning to take this grain transport job?" Zheng Yuhua asked.
"Yes. Since our vessels already go to Europe and the U.S., we might as well bring grain back on the return trip," Yang Wendong explained.
Bulk goods like grain are perfect for shipping—easy to load and stack, saving precious time at ports. This efficiency benefits Changxing Shipping's turnaround times.
"Understood," Zheng Yuhua said. "I'll schedule a meeting with China Resources today. In terms of pricing, what's our minimum acceptable margin?"
Yang Wendong thought for a moment. "Just break even. I'm not in this to make money like the foreign companies. We don't need to profit from this."
Helping deliver grain to people in need was good enough. Even breaking even was a form of contribution.
"Got it," Zheng Yuhua nodded.
…
Later that day, Yang Wendong invited Huo Yingdong to Changxing Tower in the heart of Central.
"Your tower is truly impressive, Mr. Yang Wendong," Huo Yingdong said, standing at the window and admiring the harbor view. "If only I had a building like this in Central."
Yang Wendong smiled. "With your resources, Mr. Huo, buying a tower here shouldn't be too difficult."
"I don't want just any building—I want one right in the core of Central," Huo Yingdong replied.
"That makes sense," Yang Wendong nodded.
Back to business, Huo Yingdong asked, "You invited me here about our conversation the other day?"
"Yes," Yang Wendong said. "My ships can carry the grain without issue. But the mainland made an unusual request…"
Huo Yingdong sighed. "Yes, I've heard. From what I know, they're collecting gold jewelry, melting it into bullion, and using it to buy grain.
As for antiques—I believe Zhao Congyan asked China Resources if they could purchase antiques, which probably led them to bring it up with you as well."
"Zhao Congyan?" Yang Wendong realized the connection and chuckled. "So that's where it came from."
Zhao Congyan was one of Hong Kong's four great shipping tycoons of the 1970s, alongside Bao Yugang, Dong Haoyun, and Cao Wenjin.
Zhao had a well-known passion for antiques. At the peak of his collection, it was said he owned half of all antiques in Hong Kong.
When the 1980s shipping crisis hit, Zhao sold off his antique collection, raising over HKD 300 million to save his company from bankruptcy.
Antiques, unlike real estate, don't have a fixed price. Selling them in a crisis usually means being squeezed by buyers—but Zhao still managed to fetch a fortune, proving the value of his collection.
"Everyone in Hong Kong knows about Mr. Zhao's love for antiques," Huo Yingdong said with a laugh. "If you're not interested, just tell China Resources directly. They'll understand."
"I'm not into collecting antiques," Yang Wendong replied. "But it did give me an idea—maybe one that can help the mainland too."
"Oh? What idea?" Huo Yingdong asked.
"I want to build a history museum in Hong Kong," Yang Wendong said. "I'll use my own funds to buy some of the mainland's antiques and display them here.
Tourists from Hong Kong and abroad can come visit—and we'll charge admission. That way, it becomes a self-sustaining business, and we help preserve cultural heritage."
Originally, Yang Wendong hadn't paid much attention to antiques. But after Zheng Yuhua brought up the topic the previous day, he suddenly realized that Hong Kong only had a small museum showcasing local history—and none at all dedicated to Chinese civilization.
That realization sparked an idea in his mind: to build a large-scale museum. Not only would it be beneficial to both Hong Kong and the mainland, but for himself, it would be a major achievement in terms of legacy and reputation.
In any country or city, museums are symbols of culture. As long as there is no major war, they can last for centuries. If he were to establish the first major international museum in Hong Kong, it would surely be recorded in history books even a hundred years from now.
From an economic perspective, the project could also be self-sustaining. Initially, the museum could display antiques from the mainland, and once Hong Kong's economy flourished, it could collaborate with overseas museums. Given the city's future economic growth and the number of foreign tourists, supporting a large museum would be no problem at all.
"Museum?" Huo Yingdong's interest was instantly piqued. After a brief moment of thought, he praised, "That's an incredible idea, Mr. Yang Wendong. I've been trying to help the mainland solve its economic issues, but I never thought of this."
"Haha, you're being too humble, Mr. Huo," Yang Wendong replied with a smile. "It just came to me by chance."
In his previous life, Yang Wendong had visited museums in major cities like Shanghai and Beijing. He understood the tremendous foot traffic those places could generate. Hong Kong, in the coming decades, would see similar traffic, with even greater consumer power.
Huo Yingdong then asked, "But Mr. Yang Wendong, a museum like this wouldn't be a small investment, would it?"
"It definitely wouldn't be small, but it also won't be astronomical," Yang Wendong responded. "In fact, I suspect the land cost might be higher than the construction itself. But that's not a problem—if the museum can generate revenue, we can take out a bank loan to fund the project and repay it through ticket sales."
"You're confident it will be profitable?" Huo Yingdong sounded a bit skeptical.
There had never been such a project in Hong Kong before, and there were no precedents to draw from. It would be a wholly new type of venture.
"I can't guarantee 100%, but I'm at least 70–80% confident," Yang Wendong analyzed. "Hong Kong's economy is improving year after year, and the government is actively promoting tourism. Just look at how they're pushing for the development of five-star hotels. I believe in Hong Kong's future. And when the economy booms, a museum showcasing Chinese civilization's antique treasures will definitely draw plenty of visitors—especially students and families."
Before the 1980s, the British genuinely hoped to turn Hong Kong into the "Pearl of the Orient." Thanks to its strategic location, world-class port, and a growing local elite, Hong Kong did indeed enter a golden era.
At its peak, Hong Kong people spent money like water. Supporting a museum wouldn't be an issue.
Sure, there would be losses during the '66–'67 years, but once those were weathered, smooth sailing would follow.
"You're really that confident, Mr. Yang Wendong?" Huo Yingdong laughed.
"Absolutely," Yang Wendong responded.
And if the museum didn't work out? Worst-case scenario, he could always repurpose the land for real estate development. In terms of pure economic return, it would probably be even more profitable than running a museum for decades. But Yang Wendong wasn't short on real estate—if the museum succeeded, its significance would be far greater.
"Alright, I'll speak to the people at China Resources about this," Huo Yingdong agreed after seeing how committed Yang Wendong was. "They'll probably liaise with the relevant authorities. If they're open to selling large quantities of antiques, the museum will be feasible. But some high-value artifacts likely won't be for sale."
"It doesn't have to be all purchases," Yang Wendong said. "I'm not looking to buy national treasures—and I couldn't afford them even if I wanted to. Renting is also an option. Many museums around the world lease national treasures from governments for display."
Even after China's opening up in the late 20th century, there were still limits on the export of antiques. For a museum to have long-lasting appeal, the exhibits must also be rotated regularly.
That's why, despite the high value and transport costs of antiques, international museums often ship artifacts back and forth between them.
"Renting, huh?" Huo Yingdong gave it some thought. "That makes a lot more sense for both sides."
As sharp as ever, Huo Yingdong instantly understood the benefits:
First, Yang Wendong wouldn't need to spend massive sums on acquiring priceless items—after all, he wasn't like Zhao Congyan, who was obsessed with collecting.
Second, the mainland government wouldn't have to grapple with whether to sell national treasures.
Third, the mainland could earn foreign currency through rentals, and Yang Wendong could keep attracting visitors with rotating exhibits.
It was a win-win on all fronts.
"Exactly. I'm sure you see the value here, Mr. Huo," Yang Wendong smiled. "Showing Chinese antiques in a Hong Kong museum doesn't count as cultural loss. It lets local Chinese citizens appreciate their heritage and brings in foreign exchange for both sides."
"Alright, I'll fully support this project," Huo Yingdong promised with a nod.
To him, there were no downsides. Ancient treasures collecting dust on the mainland could instead be displayed in Hong Kong—preserving culture and generating income.
"Thank you, Mr. Huo," Yang Wendong said. "As for the grain transport, there's no problem on our end. Once the ships arrive in Hong Kong, we can work with China Resources right away."
"You're a man of great integrity, Mr. Yang Wendong," Huo Yingdong said sincerely.
He was already aware that Yang Wendong had offered extremely competitive pricing on the grain shipment—unlike other merchants who were trying to exploit the crisis.
Whether viewed through a political lens or simply as a matter of helping tens of millions of people, Yang Wendong's actions were undeniably admirable.
After Huo Yingdong left, Yang Wendong called in Zheng Zhijie and explained the museum concept.
After listening, Zheng Zhijie said, "Museums can range in scale. Small ones don't cost too much, but a large one? That could easily run into hundreds of millions of Hong Kong dollars."
"It doesn't have to be huge. It just needs to suit Hong Kong's needs," Yang Wendong replied. "I really do want to build a museum—not just buy land under the guise of culture."
Some projects were just covers for land grabs. Some were both practical and strategic. Others, like this one, were genuine attempts to build something meaningful.
Yang Wendong sincerely wanted to see the museum succeed. It wasn't just about profit. Even if the museum had to be subsidized in future, he'd consider it worth it. A few years from now, his wealth would multiply again—and any losses from the museum wouldn't even register.
"Understood. But museums are tricky to design, and there aren't many local architects with experience," Zheng Zhijie added. "However, Master I. M. Pei will be in Hong Kong next week to deliver the final plans for the Four Seasons Hotel. I can consult him then."
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