Chapter 427: Bank Acquisition Deal

In the spring of 1982, during the Lunar New Year, Beiping City was like a pot of boiling dumplings, steaming hot.

Firecracker blasts rang from the twenty‑third day of the twelfth lunar month to the fifteenth day of the first, crackling nonstop. The air was filled with the smell of gunpowder, stewed meat, and the sweet cloyness of candy from children's pockets.

In the Houhai Siheyuan, red lanterns hung from the grape trellis. Li Ping'an stood in the courtyard, watching Li Yaoyang and his little companions set off firecrackers.

The bold youngster picked up a "two‑step firecracker," stuck it into a snow pile, lit it with a spark, covered his ears, and ran backward.

Bang—crack!

The two sounds shook the eaves, and the snow fluttered down.

Lin Xueqing came out of the house, carrying a plate of freshly fried meatballs.

"Ping'an, try some; the meat is abundant this year."

Li Ping'an picked up one; it was crisp outside, tender inside, full of oily fragrance.

"Delicious."

"That's right," Lin Xueqing laughed. "This year the meat tickets aren't limited—you can buy as much as you want. I also bought a large yellow croaker for stew tonight."

Li Nuanqing and Li Anning ran out of the house, both wearing newly bought woolen coats—made in Shanghai, eighty yuan each, equivalent to a regular worker's two months' wages.

"Dad, do they look good?"

"Good." Li Ping'an nodded, "Like two college students."

"We are already college students!" Li Nuanqing pouted.

The whole family burst into laughter.

In the Alley, the change was even more evident.

A line formed at the entrance of Bang Geng's small shop, all there to buy cigarettes, alcohol, candy, tea. This year he stocked many "novel goods"—coconut candy from Guangdong, the Big White Rabbit from Shanghai, and butter cookies packaged in Iron Box.

"Bang Geng, give me a Da Qianmen!" someone shouted.

"Alright! Three yuan and fifty cents!"

One hand handed over the money, the other the goods—very swift.

Jia Zhangshi sat inside the shop, holding a handful of sunflower seeds, cracking them while laughing. Her grandson had made progress, earning over a thousand yuan a month; now she walks with a straight back.

Xu Damao's roasted‑snack stall also upgraded—rented a small storefront, hung a sign reading "Xu's Roasted Snacks". He learned to roast chestnuts and sunflower seeds, and also brought in some dried fruits from the south; business was good.

Liu Haizhong's family bought a fourteen‑inch color TV, and every night the house was packed with people. Er Da Ma brought out peanuts and sunflower seeds, a smug smile on her face.

Yan Bu Gui still worked at a school, but his son Yan Jiecheng's bun shop had opened. The couple rose early and worked late, earning two to three hundred yuan a month, better than a regular job.

Sha Zhu's family was the liveliest. Ma Dongmei bought a sable coat, wore it around the courtyard three times, and told everyone, "Zhuzi earned it!"

The entire courtyard house, the whole Nanluoguxiang, the entire Beiping City, were all suffused with a confidence of "buy whatever you want".

On the sixteenth day of the new year, the festive atmosphere hadn't faded, and Li Ping'an had already boarded a flight to Hong Kong.

The cabin was full of people: officials on business trips, overseas relatives visiting home, and Individual Household entrepreneurs like him. The air mixed cigarette smoke, perfume, and the greasy scent of airline meals.

Li Ping'an sat by the window, watching the city below shrink.

Four hours later, the plane landed at Kai Tak Airport.

Hong Kong was still the same—crowded, bustling, the pace as fast as a wound‑up spring. Yet Li Ping'an could sense a hint of unease in the air.

The newspaper headline read: "Sino‑British talks hit a stalemate."

The stock market was falling, property prices were dropping, people were anxious.

This was exactly the opportunity he wanted.

In a suite at the Peninsula Hotel, Zhou Wenbin was already waiting.

"Mr. Li, the Qiu family has responded," he handed over a document, "Qiu Deba is willing to negotiate, but the price is high."

Li Ping'an opened the document.

Standard Chartered Bank, Hong Kong's second‑largest British‑owned bank, founded in 1853, with operations across Asia. The Qiu family holds 31% of the shares, the largest single shareholder.

"How much does he want?"

"One hundred billion Hong Kong dollars for a 31% stake."

Li Ping'an smiled.

"That's a big appetite."

"The market's poor now, many want to dump bank stocks," Zhou Wenbin pushed up his glasses, "We can bypass the Qiu family and acquire from the secondary market and small shareholders."

"No," Li Ping'an shook his head, "If we acquire, we take controlling rights. I want over 80%."

Zhou Wenbin was taken aback.

"Then… that would require over two hundred billion."

"Money isn't the issue," Li Ping'an walked to the window, looking at Victoria Harbour's night view, "The issue is how to get the Qiu family to loosen their grip."

The first negotiation was set at the Hong Kong Club in Central.

Red‑wood décor, leather sofas, waiters in tailcoats moving silently. The air smelled of cigars and whisky, and an unseen arrogance.

Old Master Qiu was in his early sixties, hair silver‑white, wearing a tailored suit, a jade ring on his finger. Two sons followed him, one a lawyer, the other an accountant.

"Mr. Li, I've heard of you," Qiu Lao began, his Cantonese tinged with a South‑Sea accent, "I hear your mainland business is huge."

"Just a small business," Li Ping'an smiled, "Nothing compared to Master Qiu's banking empire."

After the small talk, they got to the point.

"Standard Chartered's current market value is 32 billion," Qiu Deba's lawyer opened the file, "The Qiu family holds 31%, which at market price is 9.92 billion. If Mr. Li wants to purchase, we'll give a round figure—100 billion."

Li Ping'an said nothing, looking at Zhou Wenbin.

Zhou Wenbin understood and said, "Old Qiu, the Hang Seng Index has dropped forty percent, bank stocks are generally discounted. Standard Chartered's real market value is probably only about 250 billion."

"That's market panic," Qiu Lao's son interjected, "Standard Chartered's fundamentals are solid."

"How good is it?" Li Ping'an asked, "I heard Standard Chartered's loan non‑performing rate in Southeast Asia has reached eight percent."

The room fell silent for a moment.

The smile on Qiu Lao's face faded.

"Mr. Li is very well-informed."

"In business, you always need to know more." Li Ping'an picked up his teacup. "Eighty billion. I want all of the thirty-one percent share."

"Impossible." Qiu Lao stood up. "Ninety billion, the minimum."

"Eighty-five." Li Ping'an also stood up. "This is my final offer."

The first negotiation ended unhappily.

Over the next week, Li Ping'an did three things.

First, he had Zhou Wenbin register twelve offshore companies, located in Singapore, the Cayman Islands, and the Bahamas. Through complex cross-holdings, these companies ultimately came under his control.

Second, through these companies he quietly bought Standard Chartered shares on the secondary market, purchasing only a little each day, like ants moving house.

Third, he met with the directors of several banks—HSBC, Hang Seng, and East Asia Bank. He didn't talk about acquisition, only cooperation—Wanshang needed to develop in Hong Kong and required local bank support.

The news spread like wings, flying through Hong Kong's financial circles.

"Li Ping'an from the mainland wants to buy Standard Chartered!"

"The Qiu family asked for one hundred billion; he countered with eighty-five."

"I heard he's also been in touch with other banks—what is he up to?"

The stock market reacted sharply. Standard Chartered's share price first plummeted—markets feared the acquisition would cause turmoil—then surged—some were betting Li Ping'an would acquire it at a high price.

Qiu Lao couldn't sit still.

The second round of negotiations moved to the Qiu family's hilltop villa.

This time the atmosphere was even more tense.

"Mr. Li, you've been buying our shares on the secondary market." Qiu Lao's face darkened. "Isn't that inappropriate?"

"It's a legal purchase—what's wrong with that?" Li Ping'an remained calm. "If Qiu Lao is willing to sell, why would I buy on the market?"

"How much have you bought so far?"

"Not much, seven percent." Li Ping'an said, "Adding the shares transferred from a few earlier minority shareholders, it totals ten percent."

A gasp sounded in the room.

Ten percent already made him the second-largest shareholder.

"You..." Qiu Lao's son, his face white with anger, said, "This is a malicious acquisition!"

"Hong Kong is a society ruled by law." Li Ping'an looked at Qiu Deba. "Everything will be done by the rules."

The talks again reached an impasse.

The real turning point came in early March.

The Qiu family's real estate project in Singapore ran into trouble—its capital chain broke, urgently needing cash. Meanwhile, Standard Chartered's share price swung wildly on acquisition rumors; the Qiu family wanted to sell for cash but feared triggering a panic sell-off.

At that moment, Li Ping'an made his move.

He sent word through an intermediary: he was willing to buy all of the Qiu family's Standard Chartered shares at twelve Hong Kong dollars per share.

That price was twenty percent above the market price.

But there was a condition: the Qiu family had to decide within three days.

Qiu Lao sat in his study all night.

At dawn, he placed a call to Li Ping'an's telephone.

"Mr. Li, I agree."

March 15, the front pages of Hong Kong's major newspapers read:

"Mainland tycoon Li Ping'an spent one hundred billion Hong Kong dollars to acquire an eighty-one percent stake in Standard Chartered Bank!"

"The Qiu Deba family exits Standard Chartered!"

"Standard Chartered Bank will be renamed Wanshang Bank!"

The news shocked the entire financial world.

One hundred billion Hong Kong dollars in 1982 was an astronomical figure. Many wondered where a mainland businessman could get so much money.

Only Li Ping'an knew that of this hundred billion, thirty billion came from U. S. dollars 'borrowed' from the Bank of Japan, twenty billion were profits from Wanshang Investment's Japanese stock market holdings, and fifty billion were loans made against Wanshang Bank's own assets.

Money makes money—that is the true essence of finance.

After the acquisition was completed, the first thing Li Ping'an did was to reorganize.

He replaced two-thirds of the senior management, recruiting professionals from HSBC and Citibank. He revised risk controls, cleared bad loans, scaled back Southeast Asian operations, and focused development on mainland China and Hong Kong.

The second step was to inject capital.

Late at night, the vault of Wanshang Bank.

The heavy steel door opened, revealing piles of U. S. dollar cash and crate after crate of gold.

All of it had been moved from the Bank of Japan.

"Count it, enter it into the accounts." Li Ping'an told Zhou Wenbin. "Remember, the source of this money is Wanshang Investment's overseas profits."

"Understood." Zhou Wenbin nodded. "The accounts will be squeaky clean."

Third, he invested all the remaining yen into the Japanese market.

"Buy real estate, buy stocks, buy anything still rising." Li Ping'an instructed Zhou Wenbin, "Use leverage, crank it up to three hundred percent."

"Manager Li, the risk is too great."

"Not big." Li Ping'an gazed at the Tokyo market. "The bubble can keep inflating for three years. Three years from now, we'll cast our net again."

In April, Li Ping'an flew to the United States.

San Francisco, Silicon Valley.

Here it was still pastoral scenery—orchards merging with pastures, only a few low-rise buildings scattered about. But Li Ping'an knew that on this land, a force capable of changing the world was gestating.

He met with a dozen or so companies.

Apple, started in a garage, now launched the AppleII personal computer, market value less than two hundred million USD.

Microsoft, just sold MS-DOS to IBM, still typing code in a small office in Seattle.

Wang An Computer, at its peak, founder Wang An is a pride of the Chinese, company market value three billion.

Dell, Michael Dell still selling assembled computers from his college dorm.

Cisco, founded by a Stanford professor couple, makes network routers.

Also Walmart, Qualcomm… these names that will dominate the future are still as small as seedlings now.

Li Ping'an wrote a check.

Apple, invested fifty million USD, holding ten percent.

Microsoft, invested thirty million USD, holding fifteen percent.

Wang An Computer, invested one hundred million USD, holding five percent.

Dell, invested five million USD, holding twenty percent.

Cisco, invested eight million USD, holding twenty-five percent.

Walmart, invested fifty million USD, holding three percent.

Qualcomm, invested three million USD, holding thirty percent.

Total, two hundred forty-six million USD.

The accompanying American lawyer's hands were shaking.

"Mr. Li, these companies…… many are not profitable."

"I know." Li Ping'an said, "I invest not in the present, but in the future."

May, Li Ping'an returned to Hong Kong.

Wanshang Bank's headquarters building was under renovation, the new sign already hung up——golden large characters, sparkling in the sunlight.

Zhou Wenbin sent over a report.

"Li Zong, following your instructions, our layout in the Soviet Union has already begun. Through the black market exchange, one dollar can be exchanged for eighteen rubles. With these rubles, we have purchased……"

Li Ping'an waved his hand.

"Handle the specific details. I only want the result."

"Yes." Zhou Wenbin paused, "There's also something—Old Mr. Qiu wants to see you."

"See me?"

"He said…… wants to cooperate with you."

Li Ping'an laughed.

In the business world, there are no eternal enemies, only eternal interests.

At night, Li Ping'an stood on Victoria Peak, looking down at Hong Kong.

The lights were brilliant, like a river of stars pouring down.

A year ago, he was still in the siheyuan, thinking about how to open branch stores, how to collect antiques.

Now he stands here, holding the bank, investing globally, laying out in the Soviet Union.

His steps are large.

But each step treads on the pulse of the times.

He knows that from this moment on, Wanshang is no longer just a Chinese company.

It is a multinational conglomerate, a financial empire, a rising business behemoth.

And all of this is just the beginning.

In the distance, a ship sailed across the sea, its whistle long and lingering.

Like a horn, announcing the arrival of a new era.

Li Ping'an turned and walked into the night.

Behind him, Hong Kong remained prosperous.

And the road ahead is still long.

But he knows that he has already prepared himself.

Ready to face greater storms, and ready to create greater glory.