Chapter 289: Comic Stickers and Talent Scouting
Most of these recent mainland arrivals were well-educated, making them quite different from the unskilled African migrants who would flood into Europe decades later. If used properly, they could be highly valuable assets.
That afternoon, Yang Wendong called Wei Zetao to his office.
"Sorry I'm late, Mr. Yang Wendong," Wei Zetao said upon entering. "There was a traffic jam at the ferry terminal, took me a while to get through."
"No worries, it's nothing urgent," Yang Wendong said, motioning for him to sit.
"Thanks." Wei Zetao then added, "I heard the colonial government is discussing plans to build a bridge or tunnel across Victoria Harbour. If they follow through, transportation will become much easier."
"I just hope they don't waste time arguing between the two options," Yang Wendong laughed. "As the councilor for Tsim Sha Tsui, I've been asked my opinion. I'm in favor of a tunnel.
But within the government, many support the bridge option. The two sides are locked in a stalemate. I don't expect a decision any time soon."
As a time traveler, Yang Wendong already knew this project wouldn't be finalized until 1965. Then, due to an economic crisis, it would be delayed again. Only in 1969 would the Cross-Harbour Tunnel be formally approved, and it wouldn't open until 1972.
Ten years from now.
If that infrastructure could be completed earlier, it would save him and his executives significant time. Unfortunately, he didn't have the political clout to push it forward yet. It wasn't about money — the government needed to finalize plans before inviting any financial backers.
Once his fortune and influence grew stronger in a few years, he might be able to accelerate the timeline.
"Not much we can do for now," Wei Zetao agreed.
"Right, forget it," Yang Wendong said, handing Wei Zetao a glass bottle containing pale green liquid. "This is the herbal tea Watsons developed. Try it."
"Let's see," Wei Zetao took a sip and nodded. "Not bad. Tastes like something you'd get at a breakfast shop."
"Good," Yang Wendong said. "That brings me to the first reason I asked you here. Tomorrow, send a truck to Watsons' North Point beverage factory and pick up a batch of herbal tea to deliver to the Changxing Industrial factories.
Let the workers try different flavors and give their feedback. Watsons will send someone to monitor it."
Watsons' lab had already produced several herbal tea prototypes. They had been distributed at Carrefour for customer sampling, with staff collecting opinions. But the feedback loop was a bit slow, so Yang Wendong decided to leverage the 10,000+ workers at Changxing Industrial — a group with decent income levels and relevant consumption habits.
"Got it. We'll treat it like a summer benefit for our staff," Wei Zetao said.
Yang Wendong continued, "Second matter: how's the illustrator search going?"
Wei Zetao replied, "I've sent scouts to Japan, but results aren't great. Talented artists won't even talk to us, and the mediocre ones are no better than what we already have in Hong Kong."
"Good manga artists are often introverts — obsessive types," Yang Wendong said thoughtfully. "Getting them to move to Hong Kong is probably a long shot."
This wasn't unique to artists. Many top academic or technical performers were similarly introverted. It just seemed to be a personality trait common among deep thinkers.
"But I did find a few promising talents at Tai Mo Shan," Wei Zetao added. "They have good fundamentals."
"Oh? Really?" Yang Wendong asked, intrigued.
The mainland may have been poor, but it placed enormous value on education. Even with harsh living conditions, the sheer size of the population meant a massive talent pool.
Hong Kong's own rise in commerce and industry had largely been fueled by this human capital inflow.
"These kids said they had a teacher who was even better — someone good at both drawing and storytelling," Wei Zetao said. "But they got separated when they entered Hong Kong.
We've been trying to find him. That's why I didn't report earlier — I wanted to tell you once we located him."
"You're sure he's in Hong Kong?" Yang Wendong asked.
"Definitely," Wei Zetao nodded. "They said they lost him in the chaos at the port. So he's here — just somewhere in the city."
Yang Wendong thought for a moment. "They're artists — they should be able to sketch what their teacher looks like, right?"
"I already had them draw his portrait," Wei Zetao said. "We've distributed it, and our team's searching. He's not in any refugee camps, so he's probably working off the books somewhere in the city. Makes him harder to track."
"He's made it into the city?" Yang Wendong frowned. "Didn't we outsource some of our orders to factories run by local triads?"
"Yes," Wei Zetao said, understanding immediately. "You want them to help us search?"
Changxing Industrial was the largest manufacturing company in Hong Kong. Its various divisions all ranked among the city's top five in their respective sectors.
Not all production was done in-house. Many orders were subcontracted to smaller factories — some owned by triads. Even a small order from Changxing meant massive profits. These factories treated Changxing Group like royalty.
After all, making legitimate money legally was always preferable to running afoul of the law. Even if the profit margin was lower than from drugs or contraband, it was a steady business that could support dozens or even hundreds of members.
For the past few years, Changxing had maintained simple, clean business relationships with them.
"Yes. They have their ways," Yang Wendong said. "I don't need to know how they find people. I just want the result."
"Understood. I'll notify them right away," Wei Zetao said.
Yang Wendong added, "Just make sure they're polite. No threats or violence."
"Of course."
Later that night, in an old factory in Tsim Sha Tsui:
A group of tattooed men were gathered, all paying close attention to a sharply dressed middle-aged man.
"Brother Tao, what's the urgent call about?" asked a scarred man.
Brother Tao took a puff of his cigar, laid out a few sketches, and said, "This guy's name is Wu Hailin. He's somewhere in Kowloon. Find him, and fast."
"Just a sketch? No other info?" the scarred man said uneasily. "There's over a million people in Kowloon. This is like finding a needle in a haystack."
"And yet you brag about having people all over Hong Kong," Brother Tao said coldly. "Now you say it's too hard?"
"No, no, Brother Tao, I just meant… I want to find him quickly," the scarred man stammered.
"This man's being searched for by someone important," Brother Tao said. "All the major gangs are looking. Whoever finds him first — life's about to get good."
"Who's this big shot?" someone asked.
"You don't need to know. Just remember — this guy can change our whole gang's future."
Brother Tao warned, "And be polite. That's an order. If anyone screws up and roughs him up, I'll feed you to the sharks."
"Understood, Brother Tao!"
Three days later, in Yau Tsim Mong:
A man in his forties was washing dishes in a restaurant kitchen when several strangers entered, sketch in hand.
"Wu Hailin?" one of them asked.
"Yes," the man replied, startled.
The gang member bowed deeply. "Mr. Wu, please stop working. Our boss would like to see you. A car's waiting."
Bewildered, Wu Hailin followed.
June 18, Changxing Tower:
"Mr. Yang Wendong, this is Wu Hailin. His art is incredible," Wei Zetao introduced.
"Mr. Wu, pleasure to meet you," Yang Wendong said.
"Hello, Mr. Yang Wendong," Wu Hailin replied nervously.
After days of being treated like royalty by gangsters and then meeting with Wei Zetao, he finally understood — Hong Kong's top tycoon had been searching for him for his artistic talent.
"Please, have a seat," Yang Wendong gestured.
After some brief conversation, Yang Wendong said, "Mr. Wu, would you mind sketching a character for me?"
This would be the illustrator for his upcoming comic IP — a test was essential.
"Of course," Wu Hailin agreed.
Materials were brought in. Yang Wendong described his vision.
Half an hour later, Wu Hailin had produced drawings of a gourd brother and a female demon.
"They're great," Yang Wendong praised. "Just adjust the appearance for the rest — change the faces, sizes, colors. Just enough for people to tell them apart."
He didn't remember the old characters' exact appearances — that wasn't important. The story was the heart of the work.
"No problem," Wu Hailin said. "I can draw the whole comic myself."
"No need. I'll assign assistants," Yang Wendong said. "We already found three of your apprentices."
"Really? Thank you!" Wu Hailin said gratefully.
Yang Wendong added, "You'll work here for now. We'll provide everything you need."
"This place?" Wu Hailin was stunned. He never imagined working in a skyscraper in Central.
"For now. Later we'll move. Just draw here and show me your progress weekly," Yang Wendong said.
He personally oversaw every key business in its infancy. Once things stabilized, he'd hand them off to professional managers.
He turned to his assistant. "Get a large apartment nearby for Mr. Wu and his apprentices. Assign housekeeping. Meals should match our company cafeteria's quality."
"Understood."
"Mr. Wu, go home, rest, and eat well today. Start work tomorrow. HR will discuss salary — it won't be low."
"S-Salary? Mr. Yang Wendong, with food and housing, I don't need—"
"You'll get paid. Once your work becomes valuable, your income should reflect that. Only then can you truly stand on your own in Hong Kong."
"Thank you, Mr. Yang Wendong!" Wu Hailin said gratefully.
"One more thing — show me your progress weekly," Yang Wendong said.
As long as the team could turn his ideas into illustrations, the rest could follow.
After Wu Hailin left, Yang Wendong laughed. "These triads really are good at finding people."
"They've got eyes everywhere — even in Central. Parking lots, restaurants, taxis — you name it," Wei Zetao said.
"Well, we'll use them when needed," Yang Wendong said. "But keep distance. Always go through formal channels. Reward them with more factory orders if they perform well."
"Understood," Wei Zetao said. "I never meet them directly — our lower-level guys handle it."
"Good," Yang Wendong said. "Now you've got one more task — comic stickers."
"Comic stickers?" Wei Zetao was confused. "What's that?"
Holding Wu Hailin's character sketch, Yang Wendong smiled. "If this drawing becomes popular, why not license it for shirts, bags — and charge fees?"
"Yes, many American and European comic companies make their money this way," Wei Zetao nodded. "And then there are toys."
Yang Wendong smiled and said, "We're going to make toys. And we're definitely doing licensing too. As long as people love a comic character, they'll want to see that character more often — and that leads to merchandise and image licensing.
But there's a catch: a single comic can't grant unlimited licenses. So people buy the comic, cut out their favorite character, and tape it somewhere they see often, right?"
Wei Zetao immediately understood. "You mean, we print the characters on adhesive paper? The front has the character, and the back sticks?"
Once the idea was laid out clearly, the possibilities became endless.
"Exactly. That simple," Yang Wendong said with a grin. "As long as the characters are popular, just selling the stickers themselves could be a massive market."
Wei Zetao nodded. "Then I'll get in touch with Mr. Qian and see what kind of adhesive would work for something like that."
"Yes. The adhesive shouldn't be too strong, and the toxicity has to be controlled," Yang Wendong emphasized. "If the adhesive is too strong, and people regret sticking it somewhere but can't remove it, they'll avoid using stickers altogether.
And our main customers are kids. You can bet they'll stick them on their arms or faces. So safety is absolutely essential."
Most adhesives contain harmful substances like formaldehyde. Truly non-toxic glue is rare and expensive.
Yang Wendong had previously instructed the Changxing Industrial chemical factory to research lower-toxicity adhesives — both for product needs and in anticipation of future environmental regulations, which would eventually tighten around the globe. Adhesives were no exception.
"I'll be clear with Mr. Qian," Wei Zetao agreed.
Finding an illustrator team had already made Yang Wendong quite happy. If this venture scaled up, it would not only generate considerable profit, but also create many jobs.
By the end of June, Wu Hailin had completed his first batch of illustrations. They included designs for more than a dozen characters and the story content for the first chapter.
"Not bad. Let's go ahead with this style," Yang Wendong said after reviewing the artwork, quite satisfied. The story itself was simple anyway. "How long until the entire storyline is done?"
"It should take about a month," Wu Hailin replied.
"Alright," Yang Wendong nodded. "Once it's ready, we'll publish it as a weekly serial in the newspaper."
In a mature market, comics were usually published one chapter at a time, with feedback helping to guide development.
But since the story of Hulu Brothers wasn't long, and this was the first attempt, Yang Wendong preferred to finish the full manuscript first. A delay of a month or two wouldn't hurt.
At that moment, Qin Zhiye chimed in, "Our color printing equipment is ready. As long as Mr. Wu's side finishes the material, we can start printing immediately."
Yang Wendong added, "For printing, have Hong Wah Daily help us out. Once the comic studio grows bigger, we can purchase dedicated equipment."
Hong Wah Daily already printed in color and had excess capacity. The equipment was originally bought with high-volume capabilities, so printing a small comic weekly wouldn't be a problem — especially in the early stage, when they were only targeting the Hong Kong and Taiwan markets.
"Whatever Mr. Yang Wendong says, I'll follow," Wu Hailin replied.
After spending a week with the Changxing Group, he had adapted to the local customs and even adopted the Hong Kong style of calling people "Mr. X-sheng" rather than the more formal "Sir."
"Good. Then I'll leave it to you all," Yang Wendong said, clearly pleased.
This new venture was finally taking shape. Compared to simply earning more from existing businesses, launching something entirely new brought him greater satisfaction.
Cultural products could be exported. Even if Western countries were hard to crack, countries in Asia — including Japan and South Korea — shared similar cultural foundations. If a product succeeded in Hong Kong or Taiwan, chances were good it could work elsewhere too.
One day, when the comic division was big enough, even a series like Dragon Ball — inspired by Journey to the West — could be created. That would be a true source of pride for Chinese culture.
July arrived.
The sky was cloudless, and the weather remained scorching.
The ground, already parched, continued to crack and dry.
"Brother Dong," Zhao Liming and Lin Haoyu returned to Yang Wendong's office.
Yang Wendong opened the fridge and handed each of them a cold soda. "Watsons' ginger soda — it's great for the heat. Chilled too, helps cool you down."
"Thanks, it's like an oven out there," Zhao Liming said as he eagerly took the bottle and began drinking.
Yang Wendong glanced out the window at the bright sunlight. "Yeah, it's brutal. Watsons told me their ginger soda has been selling much better lately."
Though the ginger soda wasn't particularly tasty, it had become unexpectedly popular due to the heat. People wanted something to help with the sweltering weather, and Watsons had unknowingly found a new niche.
"Yeah," Lin Haoyu agreed. "We also picked up a bunch of anti-diarrheal meds from Watsons. Lately, we've noticed more cases of heatstroke too."
"Do they have anything for heatstroke?" Yang Wendong asked.
"A little, not much," Lin Haoyu said. "Most people use home remedies. But you'd be surprised — a lot of the refugees up there know what they're doing. Many of them are trained in traditional Chinese medicine.
Also, literacy levels are surprisingly high. Out of ten people, three to five can understand government notices."
"There really are hidden talents among them," Yang Wendong nodded.
The fact that they had made it to Hong Kong at all was proof of their resourcefulness. Most who fled the mainland had some kind of edge — either through connections or education. Illiterate people had very little access to the information they needed to make such a move.
Lin Haoyu continued, "That's why I've been thinking of launching a survey to see what skills these people have. The government still hasn't decided what to do with them. If we can help some find work now, it could benefit them, society, and us."
"A systematic survey?" Yang Wendong thought for a moment. "Alright, go ahead. If we find suitable people, we can hire them."
From ancient times to the 21st century, human talent has always been the most critical resource — whether for nations or companies.
Even though Hong Kong had become a hub for mainland talent, the overall population was still too small. For Changxing Group to grow, they needed a large talent pool, and the company had already started several training programs internally.
Of course, those programs required that the trainees have some foundation to build upon. Otherwise, the cost would be too high.
Now, with a sudden influx of refugees — tens of thousands — there were bound to be hidden gems among them. If even one in a hundred turned out to be a valuable asset, that would mean over a thousand new recruits. An enormous gain.
In fact, Hong Kong's rapid development was inseparable from the waves of mainlanders who had come seeking opportunity.
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