Chapter 90: Poaching Talent from Cheung Kong Industries
Yang Wendong nodded and said, "Yeah, I'm aware of that problem. I've already contacted a few real estate agents to help us find a suitable location. But industrial factory space in Hong Kong is tight right now, so it's going to be a challenge."
Zhao Liming added, "Right, I was chatting with An Yongqiang the other day, and he mentioned that Hong Kong's industrial exports have picked up recently. Even the ports are overloaded."
Yang Wendong smiled. "Well, if we really can't find a good spot, we'll just buy land and build our own factory."
Zhao Liming asked, "Would we even have enough capital for that, Brother Dong?"
"Of course not. But tell me—how many people in Hong Kong do you think start a business with their own money?" Yang Wendong laughed and shook his head. "Most people use the bank's money. It's only because our glue traps and Post-it notes had no competition and turned a profit so fast that we didn't need to borrow."
Whether it was 1950s Hong Kong or the mainland decades later, almost all industries depended on bank financing. Manufacturing was no exception—sometimes its dependence rivaled that of real estate.
The best example was how interest rates heavily affected manufacturing. In his past life, when the U.S. launched a trade war and tried to revive domestic manufacturing, they also raised interest rates to control capital outflows—ultimately choking their own industrial comeback.
Zhao Liming grinned. "That's not bad either. If we do build, let's build something big."
"Big is good, but we don't have the money or manpower to support a large factory yet. We need to take it one step at a time," Yang Wendong said. "They say that when plastic flowers first exploded in popularity, even Li Ka-shing took more than a year to stabilize his operations. And that was with a far better foundation than we have."
Zhao laughed. "So Li Ka-shing became the 'King of Plastic Flowers'—does that mean you'll be the 'King of Post-it Notes,' Brother Dong?"
"I don't care about being called king. Just don't call me the Rat Trap King," Yang Wendong replied casually. "Anyway, getting a bank loan isn't as simple as just walking in and asking. We need to prove ourselves—at the very least, we need a solid financial record."
In this era, banks were loosely regulated—but that didn't mean they had no standards. Even the Liu Chong Hing Bank, where he had opened a business account, was only lenient with certain businesses or people who had shown ability or potential.
If you were a nobody trying to borrow a large sum without any proof of assets or revenue, they'd toss you out the door.
Zhao Liming asked, "Wouldn't our partnership with 3M help?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on the bank," Yang Wendong said. "Banks don't have an obligation to analyze your product's potential. What they want first is collateral—you know that.
The second-best thing is a partnership with a major company. And while 3M is internationally renowned, it might not mean much here in Hong Kong.
Our best bet is to complete some sizable transactions with 3M so we can show a strong cash flow in our account. That's what will convince a bank."
"Then I guess we'll just have to wait a bit longer," Zhao said. Then he added, "By the way, Brother Dong, I know bank loans require a lot of paperwork—but our books are still kind of messy, and we don't really have proper documentation."
"What do you think we should do?" Yang Wendong asked.
Zhao thought for a moment and said, "I think we need to start hiring people who really understand business management—like they do in big companies.
I could handle things up to this point, but with the factory growing, plus dealing with overseas partners, I'm really struggling. I can't even make sense of the current workshop production data anymore."
"It's definitely beyond what you can reasonably manage alone," Yang Wendong nodded. "Hiring is a must. I need a stable, professional production environment.
So if we bring in a proper manager, what would you like to do instead?"
Zhao grinned. "Post-it notes are too complex. I think I'd be a better fit managing the glue trap operation."
"Glue traps?" Yang Wendong thought for a second. "That might suit you."
"Exactly," Zhao nodded. "Glue traps are labor-driven, and most of the workers are from the shantytowns. I feel like I can relate, and I'd be a good fit."
"Alright, then focus on running the glue trap division from now on," Yang Wendong nodded. "We may have grown a bit, but there are still tens of thousands of people living in shanties across Hong Kong. You'll be in charge of hiring from that pool, which also aligns with my goals."
In any era, the more jobs you control, the more influence you have. Yang Wendong didn't have any grand ambitions yet, but he knew that increasing employment also made his position more secure.
And having lived in a shantytown himself, he naturally felt a sense of responsibility toward that community.
Not just glue traps—if he developed other labor-intensive products in the future, he would continue to hire from the shantytowns. Even if the profits weren't great, it was a direction worth pursuing.
For him, there was no downside. Labor was cheap in 1950s Hong Kong, and many simple industries were still highly profitable.
Once labor costs rose in Hong Kong—say, in 20 years—mainland China would just be opening up. Then he could shift his operations to Shenzhen, where labor was abundant and manufacturing was simple.
It would expand his influence while helping thousands of impoverished Chinese people. And once he had more money than he could spend in a lifetime, that's when it would all truly become meaningful.
Zhao grinned. "Great. When you get a new location, just leave this one to me."
"You think this tiny place is enough for glue traps?" Yang Wendong laughed and shook his head. "Once Post-it production stabilizes, I plan to expand glue traps too. The demand will outpace our current capacity—just like it did with the notes."
Zhao thought it over. "Scaling up glue trap production is easy. Just hire more people. As long as the place is covered from wind and rain, we're good. But Post-it notes? That's a different story."
"Exactly. Without patent protection, products like glue traps would've been commoditized long ago," Yang Wendong said, shrugging.
The less technical a product was, the lower its profit margins—industries like traditional textiles or metal hardware had followed the same pattern for over a century. They always chased low labor costs from one region to another.
Li Ka-shing became the King of Plastics because plastic flowers were relatively high-tech within the plastic industry, and his company excelled at cost control. Most competitors couldn't replicate his products, and those who could couldn't match his pricing.
Zhao said, "Even though we have a patent, the Southeast Asian distributors have reported that the moment our glue traps hit the market, local companies started copying them—and sometimes they're even outselling us."
"That's normal," Yang Wendong nodded. "Those places don't have any real patent enforcement.
Let's focus on locking down the U.S., European, and Japanese markets first."
"This year, I'm planning to handle those markets the same way I did with Post-it notes—by finding distributors with real resources and establishing mutually beneficial partnerships to protect our patents through their influence," Yang Wendong said.
A patent, after all, was only as powerful as the person or company backing it. Since he had no intention of selling his patents, partnering with exclusive distributors was the most realistic and effective strategy.
Early on, he hadn't pushed for exclusivity with any developed-country partners because he hadn't found anyone with enough clout. It was all just basic trade relations.
But now, after more than six months on the market, the glue trap had proven itself. It was now possible to attract well-resourced distributors. Plus, Yang had prepared everything on his end to support that expansion.
Zhao Liming grinned. "It's a pity 3M doesn't deal in glue traps. Otherwise, we could've worked with them too."
Yang Wendong replied, "3M might not sell them, but their network is strong. I've already talked to Robert and asked him to help scout capable distributors in the U.S. If he finds the right people, he'll benefit too."
Zhao nodded. "That's great. We haven't really tapped into the American market with our glue traps yet."
"Exactly—so be ready," Yang Wendong said with a smile. "This year, just the production issues for these two products will keep us very busy."
Glue traps and Post-it notes were both products that brought real, practical value to daily life and work. Once they entered the market, it was no surprise that they exploded in popularity.
The only issue was copycats. But as long as they could hold the line in a few major markets, that would be enough. And the larger their scale, the lower their costs would become—possibly even giving them a shot at pushing back into those unregulated markets.
But that was for the future. For now, increasing production capacity was the priority.
Zhao Liming joked, "All the better. If we end up with a few hundred people working under us, I'll feel like a big shot."
Yang Wendong chuckled. "Not just hundreds—maybe even a thousand."
"A thousand?!" Zhao's eyes widened in shock.
Yang smiled, then asked, "Have we continued testing with the new cardboard material?"
Even though the glue trap had competitors in the rodent control space, its core advantage—convenience—was still strong. That was why they were moving toward cardboard: it was cheaper and easier to ship.
Zhao replied, "It doesn't work quite as well as the plastic version, but I've asked our importers to look for harder, thinner cardboard."
"Good. Keep a close eye on it. That's an important matter," Yang said.
In the future mainland, the world's largest industrial power, if you had money, you could buy anything. Open Taobao, and you'd find all kinds of custom machinery.
But in underdeveloped industrial zones, even basic items—plastic bags, woven sacks, lighters—were impossible to produce locally.
Hong Kong didn't have a paper industry at all. Everything had to be imported. Unfortunately, both of Yang's flagship products relied heavily on paper and glue—neither of which could be produced locally.
"Understood, Brother Dong," Zhao said.
Now that the factory was getting busier, issues were piling up. The second most urgent problem was the looming production bottleneck and the lack of factory space to solve it.
But the number one issue was the lack of a professional production manager—someone who could take charge and solve these problems head-on.
Even though Yang Wendong had plenty of insight from his past life in the internet era, when it came to hands-on production management in the 1950s, he wasn't much better than anyone else.
Plus, he simply didn't have the time to manage production himself. His focus needed to be on clients and developing new product ideas.
Hiring someone capable to fill this gap was the most urgent matter. If he could find the right person, they could also handle the factory expansion and boost production—a win-win.
"Mr. Yang, here are the profiles of the candidates who match your requirements," said a woman in her 40s, handing over several folders with a warm smile.
"Thank you," Yang Wendong replied as he took them.
In this era, poaching high-level talent—especially elite professionals—required headhunters. But if you were willing to pay, the best people in all of Hong Kong could appear on your desk within a day.
For Yang, who needed to move fast, this was the best option.
He opened the folders one by one, carefully reviewing each profile. All of them came from major companies in Hong Kong—some from Jardine Engineering, Swire Beverages, the repair division at Whampoa Docks, Hongkong Electric, Cheung Kong Industries, and a few other firms that he hadn't heard of but were decent in size.
The headhunter asked, "So, Mr. Yang, what do you think?"
Yang looked up and asked, "Are all of these people actually considering leaving their current jobs?"
The woman smiled. "Yes. These are all high-level talents. If they weren't open to leaving, we wouldn't dare send out their profiles.
Wasting everyone's time would be disastrous—for both us and the candidates."
Yang nodded. "Even if they are looking to leave, wouldn't most of them prefer to move to companies of the same size—or even bigger? Have you already gauged which of them might be open to joining a small company like ours?"
That was always the hardest part for small businesses. Even if you were growing fast, top talent from big firms usually only moved to similarly sized or larger companies. That was true in every era.
Cases like Joe Tsai jumping from a VP role at a top investment firm to co-found Alibaba were extraordinarily rare in global business history.
The woman replied, "Normally, we wait for you to pick a candidate first. Then we'll present your company's profile to them and gauge their interest."
"Alright," Yang said. "Then let's start with Wei Zetao from Cheung Kong Industries."
Cheung Kong might be a rising star in Hong Kong manufacturing, but it still couldn't compare with the old British conglomerates.
And the workplace culture at the time heavily favored foreign firms. It was common to hear: better a steady, low-paying job at a British company than a riskier position at a Chinese-owned one.
So hiring from British firms was even harder.
But the key reason Yang chose Wei Zetao was because Cheung Kong had just gone through its own explosive growth last year with plastic flowers. They had faced the same production bottlenecks that Changxing was dealing with now.
That similarity made Wei a prime candidate.
The headhunter smiled. "Understood. I'll contact Mr. Wei tomorrow."
The next afternoon, Yang Wendong received a call: "Mr. Yang, I've reached out to Wei Zetao. He'd like to meet with you in person."
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