Chapter 148: Acquiring the First Property in Central
When Yang Wendong said those words, Xiong Yaohua was visibly flattered. He immediately shook hands and said, "Mr. Yang, it's a pleasure to meet you."
Before coming to Hong Kong, he had already looked up some newspaper clippings to understand Yang Wendong's background. The title "Post-it King" wasn't well known in Taiwan, having only been mentioned in passing by one or two local papers over the past couple of months. It wasn't until those who came to find him brought over Hong Kong newspapers that he truly understood that a young self-made tycoon was looking for him.
He still didn't quite understand why someone like Yang would be interested in a mere novelist.
"Please, have a seat," Yang gestured warmly.
Lin Haoyu followed up with a grin, "Mr. Xiong, no need to be formal. Dong-ge isn't the type to put on airs."
Xiong smiled and nodded. "Alright."
The three of them sat down. Yang, as usual, took out a few glass bottles of Coke. They were all young, and among Chinese, Coke in a casual setting like this was often preferred over tea or coffee.
That said, even though they were still young and healthy, Yang was careful not to treat soft drinks like water. In this era, diabetes was nearly a death sentence. He only indulged during hot summer days like this.
Taking a refreshing sip of Coke, Yang asked, "Mr. Xiong, how many novels have you written so far?"
Xiong Yaohua, knowing full well why he'd been invited here, replied honestly, "Two. One was a short literary novel, but it didn't do well.
Earlier this year, I completed a martial arts novel titled The Divine Sword of the Heavens, but it hasn't been published yet."
Yang was surprised. "No paper picked it up? Or do Taiwan's newspapers not like serialized martial arts novels?"
Gu Long shook his head. "That's not the case. A few Taiwanese papers do serialize fiction, and to be honest, I think my novel is better than many of theirs.
But I'm still very young, and this is my first long-form novel. Most papers don't want to take the risk, so I figured I'd finish it first and then try to get it published."
"Right, Mr. Xiong, you're what—22 this year?" Yang asked.
After finding Gu Long, Yang had pulled together his basic background. Born in 1938, he was three years older than Yang himself. At that age, having completed a novel already was impressive.
In truth, Gu Long's early writing wouldn't stand up to the polish of later classics like Chu Liuxiang or Flying Dagger, Little Li. But in this entertainment-starved era, even modest writing with a good story could attract readers. People could—and would—read both Jin Yong and Gu Long.
Gu Long pulled a notebook from his bag. "Mr. Yang, this is my novel The Divine Sword of the Heavens. You're welcome to take a look.
The story is set during the Qing Dynasty and follows a power struggle among nine princes."
"The Qing Dynasty?" Yang took the notebook and asked, "Why that era?"
"It's close enough to the present to feel familiar," Gu Long explained. "The Nine Princes' struggle is a setting a lot of readers already know."
"Fair point," Yang nodded.
As a time traveler, especially one familiar with web novels and internet discourse, Yang knew the Qing Dynasty wasn't as glamorous as most thought. But in this time period, most people didn't care about dynastic differences. Even in the early internet era, Qing-era dramas were massively popular.
Without saying more, Yang opened the notebook and began reading:
"Early spring in Jiangnan, the grasses swayed and orioles darted through the air. Though the sun set gently in the third month, a chill still lingered in the night breeze outside the walls of Moling…"
"Beautiful calligraphy and elegant prose," Yang praised after reading the first paragraph.
Writing was like singing or dancing—talent made all the difference. If anyone could write a good novel just through effort, there would've been millions of famous authors in his past life. But that wasn't how it worked.
Gu Long smiled shyly. "Thank you."
Yang read a few more pages before closing the book. Now wasn't the time to read an entire manuscript.
"Mr. Xiong, how would you feel about publishing your novel in my newspaper?"
"You have your own paper?" Gu Long was surprised. He hadn't seen anything about that in the information he'd received—though he admitted it might have been incomplete.
"I do—or rather, we're in the process of starting one," Yang said with a grin. "It's called Honghua Daily. We expect to go to print in about two months.
I want to run martial arts fiction in it. From what I've seen, your story fits the bill. Would you be interested?"
"Of course," Gu Long smiled. "I'd be honored to see my work published in Hong Kong."
"In terms of payment, I'll pay 20% more than the average rate for Hong Kong authors. Sound fair?"
"What's the going rate?" Gu Long asked, unfamiliar with the local market.
"About HK$5 per 1,000 characters. I'll give you HK$6 per 1,000. If you write 2,000 a day, that's HK$12 per day."
That might sound small, but it was massive in this era. Most people barely made HK$1.50 per day. Earning HK$12 daily placed you firmly in the upper tier of local incomes.
"2,000 words per day?" Gu Long hesitated. "That's a bit much…"
Yang laughed. "No need to submit daily. Just don't let too much time pass between installments. You can coordinate with our editors."
Even Jin Yong's The Return of the Condor Heroes didn't update daily. Skipped days were normal. Wuxia novels aimed for quality—2000 characters a day was tough.
"Alright," Gu Long agreed.
"By the way, are you planning to keep living in Taiwan? Have you thought about moving to Hong Kong?"
"Move to Hong Kong?" Gu Long looked unsure. "Mr. Yang, it's a bit risky to move here without something stable."
"I understand," Yang nodded. "How about this: I'll arrange for you to stay in a private room in our factory's dormitory. It'll be just for you.
During the day, you can work on writing. At night, relax—or explore the city. We can even talk about story development. I'm a big fan of martial arts fiction too."
In Hong Kong, housing was the biggest expense. And in this era, renting required a hefty deposit.
Gu Long thought it over. "I'll probably still want to go back to Taiwan once or twice a month."
"No problem. I'll reimburse your ferry tickets," Yang said casually. Hong Kong to Taiwan wasn't far, and ferry tickets weren't that expensive.
Gu Long nodded. "Alright then. But since your paper won't launch for another two months, I'll head back to Taiwan for now. Once everything's ready, I'll come back."
"Sounds good," Yang said. "In the meantime, write as much as you can. I'll have a lawyer draft a contract.
For the 30,000 characters you've already written, I'll pay in advance. The more you write, the more you earn."
A few hundred bucks? Yang didn't even blink.
"Thank you, Mr. Yang," Gu Long said sincerely.
After Gu Long left, Lin Haoyu asked, "Dong-ge, are you sure his writing can compare to Jin Yong?"
"Even if it can't, it's better than nothing," Yang replied with a smile. "In the end, whether the newspaper succeeds will depend on the news content. Novels help a bit, but they're not the deciding factor."
Even once Gu Long hit his stride, he probably couldn't top Jin Yong. But that wasn't the point—they weren't mutually exclusive. Readers could enjoy both.
And for Yang himself, the benefits were personal too. If he could support Gu Long's rise, maybe he'd get to read more classics in this otherwise entertainment-starved era.
—
The newspaper plans were temporarily settled. The next step was securing a location.
Once word got out that the "Post-it King" was looking for office space in Central, real estate agents jumped into action, bombarding him with listings.
One day, while browsing with Qin Zhiye, Yang picked up a listing and asked, "This property—rent or buy?"
"Both," the agent replied eagerly. "The owner immigrated to Canada. It was previously rented by an accounting firm, but they moved to a more prominent Central building.
The space is currently vacant. If you're interested in buying, it's available. You'd have complete control over the space going forward."
Qin looked up from his stack of listings and nodded subtly. Owning the building would be hugely beneficial for the newspaper's future.
"Let's go take a look," Yang said.
He wasn't too concerned with renting, but if there was a property for sale in Central, he had to consider it.
Even if it wasn't in the prime area, it was still in Central.
Yang had been in Hong Kong for a year and a half. Thanks to a few innovations, he now had no shortage of capital. Leaving money idle in a bank was wasteful—especially when he had credit lines available.
The agent grinned brightly. "Great, I'll arrange everything now."
—
That afternoon, under the scorching sun, Yang, Qin, and the agent arrived at the building. It was a four-story structure.
"It's a bit worn down," Yang chuckled. "No wonder the accounting firm moved."
Accountants and lawyers needed to project prestige. A shabby location could hurt business.
The agent explained, "The building's from the 1930s. It's definitely on the older side, so that's not surprising."
"What's the asking price?" Yang asked.
"Total floor space is 38,000 square feet. Asking price is HK$22 per square foot—comes out to HK$836,000.
But I think HK$800,000 could get it done."
"What's the lot size?"
"12,000 square feet," she replied. "There's also a bit of green space around the building."
"Alright, let's take a look inside," Yang said.
A deal this big needed due diligence. He wasn't going to haggle before seeing it.
Once inside, Yang toured the building. Upon exiting, he told the agent, "I'll have my lawyer contact you. You can discuss terms with him."
"Of course," she said politely. She knew that clients of this level never handled negotiations personally.
—
A few days later, lawyer Zhang Weida brought over the documents.
"Mr. Yang, we settled on a final price of HK$756,000 for the Alexander Building," Zhang said, handing him the files.
Yang glanced at the cover and asked, "That fast? No room to haggle further?"
Zhang replied, "Mr. Yang, it's not that we didn't try. But real estate prices in Hong Kong are rising so fast these days that dragging out negotiations might have cost us more. Sometimes it's just not worth it."
"True enough," Yang nodded. Even back in the mainland during the real estate boom, that kind of scenario played out all the time.
"Leave the documents here—I'll review them later and give you my decision."
"Understood," Zhang said and left.
Yang flipped through the property dossier, then opened another folder—his compiled research on recent Central property transactions.
If he was buying in Central, he needed all the data he could get.
After some thought, he called Zhang back.
"Let's finalize the deal. For financing, talk to Liao Chong Hing Bank. We'll mostly use their loan. We'll just put down 20 to 30 percent ourselves."
Though cash flow wasn't tight anymore, if the bank was willing to lend against a property, it was better to use their money.
Zhang nodded. "Got it. I'll negotiate for the lowest interest rate possible."
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