Chapter 282: Fame Across Hong Kong and Full Preparedness
On June 1st, Ming Pao published a new headline article: "United We Stand, Together Against the Drought."
The title was brief but emotionally powerful. Below it was a map of Hong Kong, shaded entirely in yellow — symbolizing drought-stricken land.
Turning to the next page, readers found a detailed account of the drought's development in Hong Kong. It began by tracing the meteorological background back to 1959, when a subtropical high-pressure system began dominating southern and central China, pushing typhoons away toward the Sea of Japan and preventing the usual summer rains from reaching southern China.
Though fall, winter, and spring seasons remained normal, the critical summer rainy season had been missing for several years in a row, leading to severe droughts. The mainland itself was struggling to meet its own water needs and thus could no longer supply sufficient water to Hong Kong — resulting in the current crisis.
The article culminated in an in-depth report on the Changxing Charity Foundation and its parent company, Changxing Shipping. In response to the crisis, they were raising enormous sums of money to either purchase old cargo ships — despite the risk of loss — or build water storage stations across the city.
Although the article never once mentioned the name "Yang Wendong," the praise was unmistakable. Anyone reading it would immediately recognize that behind this massive initiative stood a single man of great resolve and vision — a hero.
And who owned Changxing Group? Anyone even slightly tuned into Hong Kong's media landscape knew.
In a Central office building...
Huo Yingdong set down the paper and smiled. "Mr. Ding, did you see today's Ming Pao?"
"Ming Pao?" Ding Kejian asked absentmindedly. "No, what's up? Is Jin Yong criticizing the colonial government again?"
"Not this time," Huo replied with a grin. "This time, he's praising someone — though he doesn't name him, the tone of the piece is practically worshipful."
"Who?" Ding asked, intrigued.
"Yang Wendong," Huo answered.
"Yang Wendong?" Ding's eyes widened. "Because of that water storage project mentioned in Oriental Daily a few days ago?"
As China Resources' representative in Hong Kong, Ding read the city's major newspapers daily and was familiar with local events. He had, of course, read the in-depth coverage published by Oriental Daily and Hong Wah Daily about the water stations.
"That's right," Huo nodded. "Take a look."
He handed over the newspaper. Ding took it, read for a while, and said, "It's a bit over the top, sure — but what Yang is doing is truly a great act of merit.
Back in the old days, if someone provided life-saving water during a major drought, they'd have a monument erected in their honor."
"Exactly. I mean, I've donated money to help, but Yang has been planning this from the very beginning," Huo said. "From buying ships to organizing water delivery, and now building water stations — he's clearly investing heavily and leading from the front."
"Indeed," Ding agreed. "And he's taking a huge risk. If a typhoon suddenly drenches southern China, all that investment could be wasted. I can't imagine how he was able to take on that kind of risk."
Huo frowned. "Maybe it's not that he doesn't understand the risk — but that he's willing to take it. Even if it means personal loss, he's determined to ensure that ordinary people in Hong Kong won't suffer too much."
"You think he's willing to lose money just to protect the masses?" Ding asked, visibly moved.
"It's just a theory," Huo said. "But I can't think of another reason. I even told him myself — water transport is not a profitable business.
The government won't offer huge margins, and if a Chinese businessman tries to make big money from a public crisis, public backlash will force him to cut prices anyway.
Yet he still went ahead, and in fact, doubled down. I got word just a few days ago — Changxing Shipping is expanding again, sending out international notices to buy even more second-hand ships."
"So he's buying up old vessels to ensure uninterrupted water transport?" Ding said, suddenly realizing the full picture. "No wonder people are confused about why someone as rich and well-connected as Yang keeps buying second-hand ships."
"Exactly. Because second-hand ships can be acquired quickly and put into service immediately," Huo confirmed.
Ding said slowly, "Now I see. He's spending millions on aging vessels — knowing they'll be scrapped within a decade — all to ensure that hundreds of thousands, even a million Hong Kong residents have water during this drought.
That's true righteousness."
Huo chuckled. "And a capable man with such a heart for the people? I dare say he's the first of his kind since Hong Kong was founded."
"Agreed," Ding said. "I'll report this back to the mainland. Even if we can't offer much help right now, our leadership will be glad to know that there's such a powerful businessman doing this kind of work in Hong Kong."
"Sounds good," Huo smiled. "I plan to donate a large sum to the Changxing Charity Foundation. In my hands, the money would just be given out at random — barely helping anyone.
But in Yang's hands, charity is run like a business. He maximizes every dollar to help the most people. That's the right way to do it."
Ding looked a little uneasy. "Huo, I'm afraid China Resources doesn't have that kind of flexibility."
"I understand," Huo nodded. He knew the financial constraints they were under.
Meanwhile, in a small mountain village in northern Tsim Sha Tsui...
A sprawling network of makeshift wooden homes stretched across the hillside. This was one of Hong Kong's infamous squatter settlements.
"I want water! Waaah!" a four-year-old boy cried out, his voice hoarse, lips dry and cracked, streaked with faint lines of blood.
This was the real face of the crisis.
Each movement of the boy's chapped lips made his face twitch in pain.
"Don't cry, my son," his mother said weakly, holding him in her arms and trying to comfort him. "The more you cry, the thirstier you'll feel. Your daddy's gone to fetch water. He'll be back soon, and then you can have a drink."
"You said the same thing yesterday," the boy sobbed, his voice full of grievance but no tears, blinking constantly from the pain. "There's water outside. Just let me drink some of it."
"No!" the mother immediately stopped him. "That water is dirty — it's only for washing clothes. If you drink it and get diarrhea, that's even more dangerous, do you understand?"
The last sentence was shouted. Startled, the little boy nodded blankly, unable to comprehend why there was water outside but he couldn't drink it.
"Just wait a little longer," his mother murmured again, exhausted.
She didn't want to yell at her child. But if he really drank that contaminated water and became sick, dehydration could kill him. That was no exaggeration.
Just then, the sound of familiar footsteps echoed from outside. She turned toward the door, eyes filled with hope, praying that her husband hadn't come home empty-handed like yesterday.
A familiar figure appeared at the door — and in his hand, a small red water container.
"A-Ying! I found clean water!" the man said, his voice full of emotion.
The past few days had been sheer torment for their family. This moment felt like a miracle.
"Water! Water!" the little boy jumped up, running straight to his father.
"Don't gulp it all at once," the man said quickly. "A-Ying, get the stove going. We need to boil this first. Everyone can have a little to quench their thirst."
He'd taken a few sips himself on the way back. Under normal circumstances, drinking a bit of unboiled water might not cause problems.
As long as they had more water coming, a stomach ache was manageable.
"Right away." A-Ying stood up and began prepping the stove. "Where did you get this water? And this container — it's brand new."
"We have the Post-it Note King to thank," the man said gratefully. "This morning, I ran into someone who told me he was handing out free fresh water at the base of Mount Yeung Kok, about three li from here.
So I rushed over. Waited in line for more than an hour to get this much. They were also selling these plastic containers — cheaper than market price — and they have sealing lids so the water doesn't spill on the way back."
"This really isn't much. Can't you get more at once?" the woman asked, a bit hesitant. She knew it was selfish, but the small amount of water wasn't enough for long. She feared they'd run out again.
"No, everyone gets the same amount," the man said, shaking his head. "But you can get back in line again. From what I heard, each truck only carries a limited amount of water — they have to ration it so everyone gets some."
"I see," the woman said, eyes lighting up. "So as long as we keep going, we won't run out?"
"Exactly. And that's not all." The man smiled. "I heard Mr. Yang is planning to build permanent water storage stations across Hong Kong. Once those are finished, the volume of water will be a hundred times what a truck can bring. Everyone will be able to get plenty."
"Really? That's wonderful!" the woman said, eyes welling with tears. "Then we won't have to worry about this anymore. I'll pray for Mr. Yang — may he live a long and peaceful life, as strong as the mountains!"
"Mhm." The man nodded. "Boil the water first, then pray. I'm going back to queue again. More and more people know about this now. We have to plan for the worst — what if it takes all day to get water?
The more we store at home, the better."
"Alright. Go on then," the woman said, nodding.
"Mama, I want more water~" the boy cried again, but his voice was clearly stronger now.
"There's a kindhearted man giving out free water at the base of Yeung Kok Mountain! Come quickly — if you wait, there won't be any left!"
In a small village, an elderly man walked through the streets, banging a brass gong and shouting at the top of his lungs, immediately catching everyone's attention.
"Old Li, is that true?"
"Who's this kindhearted man?"
Voices erupted from all directions.
"It's the Post-it Note King — Yang Wendong!" Old Li shouted back. "He's sent trucks to deliver water down the mountain. Anyone can go and get some for free!"
"The Post-it Note King? Let's go! Wife, watch the house!"
"I'm going too!"
Within moments, the street emptied.
Old Li grinned and continued walking through the village, banging his gong and calling out: "Everyone, get your water while it lasts! And bring fans — it's too hot to wait in line without one!"
"A true man of virtue."
In a large factory in North Point, a bespectacled Li Ka-shing finished reading the newspaper and said with admiration, "This is real virtue. What Yang Wendong is doing will make him the most beloved Chinese in all of Hong Kong."
His cousin Zhuang Yueming nodded. "Absolutely. It's all over the papers — even the English ones. A lot of foreigners have taken a liking to him."
"It's a brilliant move," Li agreed. "No one could dislike something like this.
The only problem is — it's not something you can pull off just by having a good heart. You need real power and resources. Honestly, aside from Jardine, Swire, or Yang Wendong himself, there aren't many who could manage it."
Zhuang Yueming teased, "If you had his resources, would you do the same?"
Li Ka-shing thought for a moment. "I'd probably donate some money. But looking at what he's done, it's clear he's not just writing checks — he's putting in serious effort."
"Exactly," she said. "Most rich people just make donations for publicity and walk away. Yang Wendong is clearly different."
"Maybe he's doing it for fame," Li suggested.
"And isn't that something he deserves?" she replied.
Li had no response to that. He nodded slowly. "Fair enough."
"A gentleman judges actions, not intentions," Zhuang Yueming continued. "Besides, I really do believe Yang Wendong is doing this from the heart."
"Yeah." Li Ka-shing nodded thoughtfully. "We might not have Yang Wendong's level of financial power, but we could at least purchase more clean water for the workers in our factories. What do you think?"
"Absolutely," Zhuang Yueming agreed. "If they're more comfortable, they'll work harder too. Small acts of kindness are still kindness. If every entrepreneur looked after their employees, this drought wouldn't be nearly as bad."
"Alright. I'll look into it tomorrow," Li Ka-shing said with a smile.
In a large open space in Kwun Tong, three trucks were parked side by side, and a large crowd was already queuing around them. A few private sedans arrived nearby but stayed at a respectful distance.
As the door opened, Yang Wendong stepped out. The sweltering heat immediately hit him like a wave.
"Dong-ge, it's noon. The sun's at its peak," Lin Haoyu walked over, concerned. "Why don't you stay inside the car?"
Yang shook his head. "It's just a bit of heat. Back in the day, didn't we endure worse? At least we had water back then. Look at all these people — we were never in this kind of situation."
Back in '58, when Yang and his close circle were starting from scratch, they were hustling through storms and blazing heat alike. Summer or winter, they were always on the move. But at least there was water — the hardship was bearable.
If he'd tried to start his business during the droughts of '62 or '63, it likely would've failed. Lack of water limited everything — including how far a man could walk or work in a day.
"Yeah," Lin Haoyu said. "We were lucky in '58 to have water."
Yang glanced up at the sky. Not a single cloud — only the sun blazed overhead. In weather like this, even artificial rainfall wouldn't help. The earth was cracked, the ground dry as bone, and only a few stubborn weeds clung to life.
"How many people are showing up at each location now?" Yang asked.
"Each site gets at least a thousand people a day," Lin replied. "Some folks keep coming back in line to get more water.
We started with a 3-liter per person limit, but with more trucks and water coming in, we raised it to 5 liters.
But the wastage is high — lines are long, and the heat is brutal. We have to give people water just to stay hydrated while they wait. We can't skimp on that."
"That's not wastage," Yang shook his head. "If they drink while waiting, they can bring the water home for their families. That's a good thing."
"Exactly," Lin nodded. "A lot of people come just to drink their fill, then ration the rest at home.
Dong-ge, once the permanent water stations are built, I suggest we install shade covers at the queueing areas. Even a layer of plastic sheeting would help.
This sun is too harsh. People suffer in line, they sweat more, which means we have to give out even more water. Worst case, someone could get heatstroke."
"Good idea," Yang agreed. "And don't stop there — install industrial fans above the shade covers. Keep air circulating so the heat gets dispersed. People will feel more comfortable, and we'll use less water."
In this kind of summer heat, without air movement, people sweat buckets. In a drought, that was a disaster — and a logistical nightmare for a public water operation.
Fans weren't expensive, and the electricity they consumed was negligible compared to the cost of managing a disaster.
"That would be amazing," Lin said, genuinely pleased.
"How are things progressing with the Water Department and the station sites?" Yang asked.
"They've already started laying out pipeline routes," Lin reported. "I've also placed an order for steel pipes from Japan based on their specs — the shipment should arrive in two weeks, and we'll start laying pipe immediately.
As for the water station locations, we've secured deals with the government. Ten sites totaling 120,000 square feet, all near squatter settlements. We're buying the land as industrial lots at 0.5 HKD per square foot. Construction has already started.
The most time-consuming part is the multi-layer waterproofing for the reservoirs."
"Hmm," Yang nodded. "Can everything be completed within two months?"
"I guarantee it," Lin promised. "You have my word. I'll push all teams to finish as soon as possible."
"Good. Once this is done, we'll have done everything we can for the squatter settlements," Yang said, his tone steady.
He was only one man. Even with all the planning — transporting water, building stations, distributing it — there was only so much he could do.
Ensuring basic drinking and cooking needs for tens of thousands was already a significant achievement.
Bathing and laundry? That was up to the individuals. If they wanted comfort, they had to find a way to earn more and move out of the shanties.
That, too, was part of Changxing Industrial's mission — to build an economy where that kind of upward mobility was possible. But it would take time and a rising tide of wealth across society.
"You've done more than enough, Dong-ge," Lin said. "Without you, people in those squatter areas would be in serious trouble right now."
"The best solution would be no squatter areas at all," Yang said softly. "If everyone could live in a solid home, with electricity and running water — that would be the true answer."
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