Chapter 484: Victoria Harbour Review

1998 September 1, Hong Kong finally emerged from the raging seas of August.

After the typhoon passed, Victoria Harbour's sky was as blue as if washed with bleach, and even the thick, cloying mix of sea brine and copper rust in the air had largely dissipated.

The Star Ferry at Central Pier continued its regular shuttles; the white wake trailing from the stern glittered in the sunlight like fresh flesh growing over a healing wound.

In the conference room on the top floor of Wanxiang Bank, the air conditioning was set high.

Only four people sat beside the long oak table, four cups of Longjing Tea Tea tea, four financial statements, four faces with complex expressions.

Li Ping'an sat at the head seat, the collar of his white shirt undone by one button, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

The cup of tea before him remained untouched, a few Longjing Tea Tea leaves sank to the bottom, like weary soldiers sleeping in a trench.

Zhou Wenbin sat to his right. He was fifty‑one, had lost a full ring of weight over the past month, his suit was noticeably looser, but his back remained perfectly straight.

His fingers repeatedly pressed the same number on the calculator, as if trying to confirm through repetition that this was not an illusion.

Li Yaozong sat opposite his father. The thirty‑two‑year‑old general manager of Wanxiang Group, one of the front‑line commanders of this financial battle, now rubbed the cap of his fountain pen with his thumb—a nervous habit he had since his days at Tsinghua and could not break.

Chen Jianghe sat by the window, sunlight slanting onto his greying temples.

At fifty‑seven, having built a empire with Li Ping'an for thirty‑five years, rising from a clerk in the Steel Rolling Mill Security Department to the helmsman of Wanxiang's foreign trade, he had seen many great storms, but a campaign of the scale of the past forty‑plus days was his first encounter.

Silence lasted about three minutes.

No one spoke. The people in this room had moved eight hundred billion dollars in the past month, borne a hundred billion of paper losses, taken on stocks worth several hundred billion Hong Kong dollars, and won the most brutal defensive battle in human financial history.

Yet when the smoke cleared and they sat together to tally the accounts, they found countless words had no starting point.

In the end, Zhou Wenbin spoke first.

"Boss," his voice a little hoarse, he pushed the calculator to the center of the table, "the total input for this financial defense battle was eight hundred forty‑two billion dollars. The paper loss, one hundred three billion."

He paused.

"Adding the floating losses from the British‑capital acquisition, privatization delisting, and increased holdings of blue‑chip stocks, the total… one hundred twenty‑five billion."

The numbers floated in the silent air like an invisible lead plate pressing on each person's chest.

One hundred twenty‑five billion dollars.

At the exchange rate then, over one trillion Hong Kong dollars.

Enough to build five Tsing Ma Bridges, enough for twenty Hong Kong Convention and Exhibition Centers, enough to give every one of Hong Kong's six million residents sixteen thousand dollars.

It vanished like that.

No, not vanished. In the forty‑plus days of fighting, every bullet and shell fired was accounted for; every cent was exchanged for stocks, for exchange‑rate stability, for the confidence that this city could survive.

Zhou Wenbin lifted his head, looking at Li Ping'an, his eyes slightly reddened.

"Boss, this account… I bear the main responsibility."

Li Ping'an lifted the ice‑cold tea and took a slow sip.

Bitterness dissolved on his tongue, followed by a faint lingering sweetness.

He set down the cup, looking at the subordinate who had followed him for twenty years.

"Wenbin, I have a question for you." His voice was very calm, "Last year, when we met in Hong Kong and decided to recall this capital, did you know it might incur a loss?"

Zhou Wenbin nodded.

"Did you know it might lose this much?"

Zhou Wenbin nodded again.

"If time could reverse, back to December 24 last year, would you still make the same decision?"

Zhou Wenbin did not hesitate: "I would."

Li Ping'an smiled.

That smile held satisfaction, pride, and a hint of softness that Zhou Wenbin had never seen before.

"Then it's settled." Li Ping'an leaned back in his chair, "In war there are no casualties that don't count. Every bullet you fire isn't to kill the enemy, but to hold the ground behind you. Now the ground is held, shall we calculate the remaining ammunition?"

He looked around the three.

"One hundred twenty‑five billion dollars is a lot. But what we took back from Japan and the United States exceeds thirteen hundred billion. Subtract this one hundred twenty‑five, we still have over eleven hundred."

He paused.

"Moreover, the things bought with this one hundred twenty‑five billion go far beyond the stocks on the books."

Li Ping'an stood and walked to the window.

The sunlight gilded his silhouette, his greying hair like a thin layer of frost.

"Wenbin, calculate what we actually bought in these forty‑plus days."

Zhou Wenbin inhaled deeply and opened the notebook before him.

It was his professional habit for twenty years—after any major decision, a review must be done, records kept, and experience and lessons turned into black‑on‑white on the pages.

"First, stock assets." His voice steadied, "The Monetary Authority's market‑supporting main capital is the national team; we did not participate. But the sell‑offs we took on the market involved a total of two hundred thirty billion dollars, buying about one hundred eighty billion Hong Kong dollars of blue‑chip shares."

He turned a page.

"Current floating loss is eleven percent, about twenty‑five billion dollars. Yet these are Hong Kong's highest‑quality assets—HSBC, Land, He Wong, Swire, CLP, Hong Kong Electric… As long as Hong Kong's economy does not collapse, within five years the value of this batch of stocks will double."

Li Yaozong continued, "And this shareholding makes us the second‑largest shareholder of HSBC, Swire, and Land. Henceforth, these British‑capital conglomerates can no longer ignore Chinese capital's voice in Hong Kong."

Zhou Wenbin nodded and kept speaking.

"Second, the foreign‑exchange market." He took a sip of tea to soothe his throat, "We cooperated with the Monetary Authority, and at the 7.75 peg we took on about four hundred billion dollars of HKD sell orders. This part bears the biggest paper loss, close to eighty billion dollars."

His pen tip tapped the report.

"But this is a price we must pay. If we do not hold the linked exchange rate, once the HKD falls, Hong Kong will become another Bangkok or Jakarta—currency halved, external debt collapsing, foreign capital fleeing, ten years to recover."

He lifted his head.

"Our eighty billion bought a lifeline for Hong Kong's financial system."

The conference room fell silent for a few seconds.

Chen Jianghe took another document from his briefcase.

"Third, the withdrawal of British capital's remaining assets." His voice was steady, "In the past year, Wanshang Bank led, together with a Chinese‑capital consortium, to acquire forty‑seven non‑core assets from Jardine, Swire and Hutchison— including twelve hotels, nine office buildings, five malls, three container terminals, as well as two airlines and equity in three shipping routes."

He paused.

"The total acquisition amount was about 12 billion USD, roughly sixty‑to‑seventy percent of the market low point. The current valuation of these assets has already recovered to over ninety percent of the purchase price."

He pushed the documents to the center of the table.

"In other words, the book loss on this block has narrowed to under 1 billion USD. In another two years, when Hong Kong's economy emerges from the trough, the value of this batch of assets should at least quadruple."

Li Ping'an nodded, saying nothing.

Zhou Wenbin continued flipping his notebook.

"Fourth, and most important—" his tone became solemn, "is market confidence."

"The reason Hong Kong could hold on until the end of August is not that the Monetary Authority has more money than Soros, but because the market believes Beijing will not let go, and we Chinese‑capital firms will not run."

He looked at Li Ping'an.

"Boss, when you announced at the press conference that you would increase holdings by 50 billion, I quietly checked the Monetary Authority's monitoring data. Fifteen minutes after you finished that sentence, the net outflow curve of northbound funds via Stock Connect reversed."

His voice trembled a little.

"Those retail investors who were ready to cut losses, those institutions hesitating on the sidelines, those middle‑class families who had already booked tickets to emigrate… they saw someone willing to put real gold and silver on the line with Hong Kong, and they stopped panicking."

"Confidence cannot be bought with money."

"But you bought it back with 12.5 billion."

Li Ping'an lifted his tea cup and realized the tea had gone completely cold.

He set the cup down; Li Yaozong immediately rose to fetch hot water. Boiling Longjing Tea Tea was poured into the cup, the tea leaves swirled and gradually unfolded to their original shape.

"Yaozong," Li Ping'an said, looking at the floating leaves in the cup, "you studied mechanical engineering at Tsinghua, later ran enterprises, now have fought financial battles. Tell me, is the 12.5 billion loss worth it?"

Li Yaozong placed the teapot back where it had been, without answering immediately.

He stood beside his father, watching the ships coming and going on Victoria Harbour. The Star Ferry, container ships, yachts, tugboats… each vessel had its own channel, its own speed, and carried different cargoes to different destinations.

"Dad, I recalled something you once said." He spoke softly, "You said there are three realms in business: the first is earning the spread; the second is making products; the third is setting the rules."

He turned and looked at the three elders present.

"In the past year, what Soros and his crew were playing was the rule‑setting strategy. They bet that Hong Kong could not maintain the linked exchange rate, that China would not openly intervene the market, that the doctrine of free economy could bind our hands. This was not a price bet, but a system bet—betting we would not dare change the system, betting we would not dare overturn the table."

He paused.

"But we overturned it."

"We spent eight months completing the whole process from 'passive defense' to 'active decisive battle.' The Monetary Authority entered the market, the central government voiced its stance, Chinese‑capital consortia stepped forward. We rewrote the game rules."

His gaze fell on his father's face.

"The 12.5 billion bought a ticket to this new rule."

"In that sense, it wasn't a loss; it was a gain."

Li Ping'an listened, offering neither praise nor criticism.

He simply lifted his tea cup and slowly drank the freshly brewed Longjing Tea Tea.

Then he placed the empty cup back on the table and lightly tapped the surface.

"The accounts are settled; it's time to talk about what's next."

The three of them focused their eyes simultaneously.

"Wenbin, you take charge of the finance side." Li Ping'an's voice returned to its usual steadiness, "After this battle, Wanshang Bank's position in Hong Kong's underworld will be solidified. The next step is not more fighting, but cultivation."

Zhou Wenbin scribbled notes at speed.

"First, retail banking. This year's financial storm has reverted Hong Kong people's saving habits to their original form. Previously they thought deposits at HSBC and other foreign banks were safest; now they know—at critical moments foreign banks flee, Chinese banks do not."

Li Ping'an looked at Zhou Wenbin.

"Wanshang Bank must double its retail outlets in Hong Kong within three years. Savings, remittances, mortgage loans, credit cards… do everything possible. Prices must be lower than HSBC's, service better than HSBC's, approvals faster than HSBC's. Don't focus on the rich's pockets; focus on the ordinary people's trust."

"When trust accumulates, money will naturally follow."

Zhou Wenbin nodded heavily.

"Second, real estate." Li Ping'an turned to Chen Jianghe.

"This year's stock crash knocked Hong Kong's property prices down by thirty percent. Many developers' cash flows broke, desperate to sell land to recover. Your foreign‑trade company still has cash on its books; combined with the new deposits Wanshang Bank has attracted, you can act."

Chen Jianghe's eyes lit up.

"It's not about scooping up luxury homes or flipping pre‑sales." Li Ping'an pre‑emptively blocked his thought, "It's about long‑term rentals and old‑district redevelopment."

"Hong Kong's high property prices stem from insufficient land supply. But that bone is too hard for us to bite, and it shouldn't be ours to bite. The biteable bone is another—numerous old buildings and tong‑lau, whose facilities are aging, living conditions poor, owners lack funds to renovate, tenants live uncomfortably."

He paused.

"Wanshang Real Estate should set up a dedicated old‑renovation department, cooperate with district councils, Buildings Department, Urban Renewal Authority, and bite street by street. Not demolition, but revitalization. Facade refurbishment, elevator installation, water‑electric pipe upgrades, property‑management upgrades. Rents can rise moderately, but tenants must feel the increase is justified."

He looked at Chen Jianghe.

"This is not about making quick money, but about building reputation, earning the long term. Ten years from now, when Hong Kong people speak of 'who truly improves this city,' Wanshang should be an unavoidable name."

Chen Jianghe put down his pen, lifted his head and stared straight at Li Ping'an.

"Brother, I'll oversee this."

"Third, hotels and tourism."

Li Ping'an looked at Li Yaozong.

Over the past year, Li Yaozong, as group general manager, has gradually taken over daily operations. Li Ping'an does not easily issue orders across ranks, but on major strategic directions he still sets the tone personally.

"Hong Kong Airport will relocate at year‑end; the new Chek Lap Kok Airport will officially open next month. This is a once‑in‑a‑century opportunity."

He tapped the Hong Kong map spread on the table, his fingertip landing on the northeast corner of Lantau Island.

"The new airport will bring new passenger flows, new routes, new cargo corridors. Hong Kong's tourism pattern will shift from shopping‑centric to exhibition, business, and leisure‑vacation centric."

"Wanshang Hotel Group currently has twelve hotels: eight on Hong Kong Island, four in Kowloon, none on Lantau."

He lifted his head.

"We can still go acquire land now. Although the Disneyland project is still under negotiation, its implementation is only a matter of time. In the next five years, a new cluster of hotels will emerge on the eastern coast of Lantau Island. We won't be greedy; we'll take three parcels and build three mid‑range business hotels and one high‑end resort hotel."

He paused.

"In addition, the renovation plan for the existing hotels must be moved forward. The few old hotels that opened in 1990 have facilities that can no longer keep up. Rather than wait for guests to complain, we should upgrade proactively. If funds are short, we'll have Zhou Wenbin arrange a loan, with interest at market rates, no special treatment."

Li Yaozong closed his notebook.

"Dad, I'll fly to London next week to study the renovation cases of a few of their old hotels."

"No need to go to London," Li Ping'an shook his head. "Go to the White Swan in Guangzhou, go to the Peace Hotel in Shanghai. Our own experience is what best fits this land."

"The fourth, and also the most fundamental," Li Ping'an's voice deepened.

"Hong Kong's future does not lie in property prices, the stock market, or tourism. It lies in whether Hong Kong can find its new position."

The three of them listened quietly.

"For the past hundred years, Hong Kong has been the sole window between the mainland and the West. In the twenty years since reform and opening, that window still exists but is no longer unique. Shenzhen, Shanghai, Guangzhou can all trade directly with Europe and America. Hong Kong's re‑export advantage is being diluted."

He paused.

"That's normal. As the younger brother, you can't forever rely on the older brother to feed you. You have to learn to walk and find your own bowl of rice."

"Where is Hong Kong's new bowl of rice?"

He answered his own question.

"First, the international financial centre. Once this battle is won, the whole world will see—Hong Kong has mainland backing, a deep financial foundation, not a soft target anyone can bully. We must protect and amplify this advantage."

"Second, a professional services hub. Hong Kong's legal, accounting, consulting and arbitration sectors have a century‑old reputation that the mainland cannot catch up to in the short term. Wanshang doesn't touch these, but we must leverage them—future Wanxiang Group overseas acquisitions will prioritize Hong Kong firms for legal, audit and financing services."

He looked at Chen Anbang—though Chen Anbang was absent today, the words were addressed to everyone present.

"Third, a technology innovation hub. In this area Hong Kong's base is thin, but not without opportunity. The research strength of the University of Hong Kong and the Chinese University of Hong Kong is strong; what's lacking is industrial conversion. The Nanshan R&D Center will next establish joint labs with Hong Kong universities, turning basic research into products and then bringing those products back to the mainland for mass production."

He looked at Li Yaozong.

"You'll be the one to pull the strings on this."

Li Yaozong nodded solemnly.

Outside, the sky gradually darkened.

The lights on both sides of Victoria Harbour flickered on one after another, turning the sea into flowing shards of gold. A massive cruise ship was slowly sailing out of Victoria Harbour, its portholes like a string of glowing necklaces, receding further into the night.

Zhou Wenbin glanced at his watch; it was already 6:30 p. m.

The review meeting had lasted a full four hours.

Li Ping'an was also tired. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and tapped his fingers lightly on the edge of the table—not a nervous tap, but a relaxed rhythm.

"Wenbin," he said suddenly, eyes still closed, "how many years have you been with me?"

Zhou Wenbin was taken aback for a moment.

"In 1985, the year you registered Wanxiang Investment Company in Hong Kong, I joined the finance department. It's been over a decade."

"More than ten years," Li Ping'an murmured, repeating, "Ten years ago, the building we rented in Hong Kong, now…"

He opened his eyes and looked at the dazzling city outside the window.

"Now we can afford to lose a hundred billion dollars."

He said it lightly, yet the three present all grasped its weight.

It wasn't bragging, but a sigh.

It was the boy who left Henan in 1942 starving, who walked for fifty‑six years and finally reached a point where he could afford to lose a hundred billion dollars.

And in those fifty‑six years, every fall, every loss, every time someone tried to choke him, he got back up.

He never fell.

He never gave up.

When the meeting adjourned, night had fully fallen.

Li Ping'an was the last to leave the meeting room. Zhou Wenbin waited at the doorway, holding a freshly printed document.

"Boss, this is tomorrow's Xinbao interview outline. The reporter asks about Wanxiang's confidence in Hong Kong's future and our role in the financial defence battle."

Li Ping'an took the outline and glanced over it.

"Let Yaozong handle these matters," he passed the document back, "When it's time for me to retreat, I must step back."

Zhou Wenbin nodded, offering no counsel.

Li Ping'an walked to the elevator lobby and suddenly stopped.

"Wenbin."

"Tomorrow compile the transaction data from the past few months and send it to the Hong Kong Monetary Authority and the People's Bank of China." He didn't turn around, "We must submit every piece of our homework, none can be missing."

"Understood."

"And also," Li Ping'an paused, "tell the people below that once this battle is won we can celebrate, but not brag. Hong Kong's resilience relies on the Hong Kong Monetary Authority's resolve, Beijing's support, and six million people who haven't given up. We are just…"

He thought for a moment.

"Just happen to be present, happen to have some money, happen to be willing to spend it."

The elevator doors opened.

Li Ping'an stepped inside, turned, and looked at Zhou Wenbin outside the door.

"Good work."

The elevator doors slowly closed.

Zhou Wenbin stood where he was, watching the silver door shut.

Then he turned and returned to the meeting room that was still lit.

The reports remained on the table, the teacups untouched, and the air still held the mingled scent of Longjing Tea Tea tea and cigar.

He sat down, reopened the notebook filled with numbers and decisions, and on the blank space of the last page wrote this line:

"September 1, 1998 – Post‑battle review of the financial defence war."

Total investment: 842 billion USD.

Book loss: 103 billion USD.

Assets reclaimed: 1,320 billion HKD blue‑chip stocks, 47 British‑capital properties, confidence in Hong Kong's financial system, Speech authority of Chinese‑capital consortium, and—

His pen tip paused for a few seconds.

—and also, an era where one can say no with dignity.

He closed the notebook.

Outside the window, the night vessels in Victoria Harbour were sounding their whistles, a deep and lingering tone, like this city that has endured vicissitudes, after a long night finally awaiting the first breath before dawn.