Chapter 317: The Early Arrival of TVB
The Lunar New Year passed quickly, and soon it was February 1st.
After arriving at the office, Yang Wendong held a brief internal meeting with the heads of several business departments within the group. It was more of a morale booster than a strategic session—no detailed topics were discussed.
Each company's specifics had to be handled separately anyway. Even among subsidiaries of the same group, business data was kept confidential—only public, non-sensitive metrics, like industry scale, were shared across divisions.
At noon, Yang Wendong called up Zhao Liming and Lin Haoyu, and the three of them headed downstairs to a small hotpot restaurant nearby, reserving a private room.
"Man, I haven't had hotpot in forever," Zhao Liming grinned.
"Then eat up. It's on me—don't be shy," Yang Wendong said.
Hong Kongers loved hotpot. You could tell just by watching TVB dramas in his past life. Whether it was gang members, close friends, or street diners—everyone liked sitting down around a pot.
Lin Haoyu laughed, "Don't worry, Dong-ge. Liming didn't eat breakfast on purpose today—he's been starving himself just to devour a feast."
"No worries, I used to do the same," Yang Wendong chuckled.
Back in his past life, if he planned to go to a buffet for lunch, he'd usually skip breakfast to save space for the main event.
"You really get me," Zhao Liming grinned as he loaded his plate.
Yang Wendong expertly dropped ingredients into the hotpot. Once everything was cooking, they sat back to wait, and he asked, "So, how's water distribution going during the holiday?"
Only the wealthy could afford a real break during Lunar New Year. The poor had no such luxury. In Hong Kong, most factories didn't close for the holidays.
And now, with the drought layered on top of it, many workers spent their off-hours hunting for water. Life was hard.
The various Changxing Charity Foundation water stations had stayed open through the New Year, continuing to supply water.
Zhao Liming answered, "It's been a bit better lately. The cooler weather means lower demand. Even we sweat less, so people are using less water overall."
"That's good," Yang Wendong nodded.
There hadn't been any rain, but winter naturally required less water than summer. Even open pools of water evaporated much more slowly in cooler air.
Lin Haoyu added, "Yeah, winter's manageable. But what about this summer? If South China doesn't get major rainfall again, Hong Kong's situation could be even worse than last year."
"It should rain, right? It's been dry for years now," Zhao Liming said hopefully.
"Not necessarily," Yang Wendong replied. "China has had droughts that lasted for years—even decades. Some ended with mass starvation. It's all recorded in the history books.
If the skies won't rain, there's nothing you can do."
Even a hundred years into the future, human technology still wouldn't be able to manipulate large-scale weather systems.
Sure, cloud seeding could induce rain locally, or disperse clouds, but these were minor interventions. For real disasters like prolonged droughts or regional floods, mankind was powerless.
Although re-routing rivers might help—that at least offered economic benefits as well.
Lin Haoyu sighed, "That's bleak. Dong-ge, can we expand water transport?"
"We can a little, but not much," Yang Wendong answered. "There's a limit to the global second-hand ship market. I can't buy all of them."
His initial acquisition strategy began years ago, allowing him to secure many vessels in advance. But now, with the situation urgent, he could only add ships incrementally.
And on top of that, many capitalists were heartless. They'd already realized Hong Kong needed water transport, and they were hiking prices. Any attempt to buy more ships would now cost a fortune.
"Then we're really out of options," Zhao Liming sighed.
Yang Wendong said, "The only true solution is Dongjiang water. But the Hong Kong government and the mainland still haven't reached an agreement. All we can do is wait."
The water deal had been stalled for months, entangled in political games. The funding for the canal itself was less of an issue.
Zhao Liming grumbled, "The colonial government's efficiency is pathetic. How can something this urgent still be unresolved after half a year?"
"I don't think it's just inefficiency," Lin Haoyu said, shaking his head. "I suspect they're stalling to see if this summer brings rain. If the drought ends on its own, they can just avoid the whole issue."
Yang Wendong agreed, "Right. They're basically gambling on the weather—betting that South China will get rain this year."
Everyone knew Hong Kong was short on water. But the government refused to work with the mainland, hoping nature would fix the problem.
Zhao Liming said bitterly, "These people don't care about the common folk. They only care about saving face and protecting their own positions."
"There's nothing we can do about that," Yang Wendong said calmly. "Let's just focus on our own tasks. Make sure all our water stations' reservoirs are topped off. Anything we can do to help is better than nothing."
The biggest challenge wasn't actually the water supply—it was lack of storage. If they had more capacity, they could store water in winter and use it in summer. It wouldn't solve the problem, but it would ease the pressure significantly.
But even the large reservoirs the government spent tens of millions to build were far from enough. Once Dongjiang water arrived, those reservoirs would become practically useless.
This kind of resource waste was the result of political infighting—and no one could do anything about it.
"Understood," Zhao Liming and Lin Haoyu replied.
—
February 2, Yang Wendong received a call from the Government Secretariat. The Governor wanted to see him—though they didn't say what it was about.
Intrigued, Yang Wendong went to Government House the next day.
"Governor, good to see you," Yang Wendong said politely.
"Mr. Yang," Governor Robert Black replied with a smile. "Please, have a seat."
"Thank you."
The two chatted casually at first, touching on the economy and the drought. An aide brought coffee. When they were finally alone, Governor Black said, "Mr. Yang, regarding the wireless TV station you mentioned before—the internal review process is complete. The government will make an announcement soon."
"Really? That's fantastic news." Yang Wendong was thrilled.
His media and cultural ventures had been held back by one thing: no television station in Hong Kong—or at least, none with a broad audience.
Rediffusion Television (later Asia Television) had operated via cable. That suited Hong Kong's early years when few could afford TVs. But by the 1960s, cable no longer met market needs.
A free-to-air station would allow regular citizens to watch programming easily. It would also give him a platform to showcase cultural content, including TV dramas adapted from novels.
Whether it was profitable in Hong Kong was secondary. The real value was in producing content for export overseas—his first real push in cultural globalization.
Governor Black continued, "The announcement will be made in about a week. I wanted to give you a heads-up—but please, don't spread the news."
"Of course. Thank you, Governor." Yang Wendong nodded.
Their relationship was quite close now. From the colonial administration's perspective, Yang Wendong was a capable Chinese entrepreneur—someone worth courting. His support of the museum project, which would immortalize the Governor's name, certainly didn't hurt either.
"You're welcome," Governor Black smiled. "You've done a lot for me—and for Hong Kong. But just so we're clear: the license won't be handed to you automatically. That wouldn't be proper.
Once the announcement is made, there will be a public bidding process. You'll have to compete with other companies. Whether you win or not depends on your proposal."
"Understood," Yang Wendong replied calmly.
The government, naturally, wanted to maximize value. Unless it was an exceptional case, they would never just hand out a lucrative opportunity. Competitive bidding was standard.
Governor Black added, "I hope you manage to win the bid."
"I'll do everything I can to secure it," Yang Wendong said.
In the original timeline, the bidding for what would become TVB was intense. Multiple consortia participated. Though Li's Group eventually won the license, it was mainly as a minority shareholder—the majority stake remained with British interests.
Now, the timeline had shifted—by two full years. It was unclear who would participate in this round of bidding.
"A shame I probably won't see the station launch during my term," Governor Black chuckled.
"That's very likely," Yang Wendong admitted. "But if I win the license and produce any good shows in the future, I'll be sure to send you copies."
Governor Black only had one year left in his term. A wireless TV station would require time for promotion, bidding, infrastructure—there was no way it would be operational before he stepped down.
"Thank you," Governor Black replied with amusement. He wasn't particularly interested in Chinese-language content anyway. Then he asked, "Mr. Yang, I heard you plan to participate in the upcoming auction—for that prime Queen's Road Central site?"
Yang Wendong smiled. "Yes. I'm very interested in the site. And since the proceeds are earmarked for drought relief, I'm happy to support it as a local Chinese businessman."
In just a week, the Hong Kong government would host the first post-New Year land auction.
Multiple plots were on the table—residential, industrial, commercial—including the Queen's Road Central land king.
It was now 1963. The drought was ongoing, but that hadn't stopped real estate speculation. Property prices were still climbing, and this "land king" had drawn heavy attention from investors.
"Haha, good. I hope you win it—and help the government raise funds for drought relief," Governor Black said. "Also, I've reported your contributions over the past year to the British government. Once this drought situation ends, I believe you'll receive due recognition."
"Thank you, Governor," Yang Wendong said.
Such "recognition" from the UK typically meant titles—perhaps a knighthood, or at least a royal commendation, or even a private audience with the monarchy.
In his previous life, mainlanders scoffed at such honors. But in 1960s Hong Kong, they were still highly prestigious.
And for Yang Wendong, having good relations with the British establishment was essential. The Commonwealth market was huge—and still held a strong bias toward insiders.
"You're welcome," Governor Black said with a faint smile. "It's the least I could do."
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