Chapter 197: Meeting the Shipping King and Securing the Freighter
The meeting wrapped up quickly, and the shipping company got to work immediately with a clear division of tasks:
Zheng Yuhua, Sun Zhiwei, and over a dozen captains and maritime engineers prepared to board a flight to the United States. On the other side of the Pacific, the intermediary company they had hired had already completed the necessary arrangements. As soon as they landed, inspections of the cargo ships could begin.
Meanwhile, Captain Lin continued with regular operations—once the Shun An finished its maintenance and was reloaded, it would set sail for the U.S. again.
December 16.
Yang Wendong arrived at Changxing Industrial with Su Yiyi, whose baby bump was now slightly visible, to review the company's recent financial performance.
Wei Zetao brought the latest reports to them. "Mr. Yang, Madam Yang, here are the financial statements from the past few months."
"That's quite a stack," Yang Wendong said with a smile, picking up the top document from the pile.
Wei Zetao explained, "Our operations have grown a lot recently, so naturally the number of financial records has increased. What you're holding now is a summary—formatted like a public company's earnings report.
The rest on the table contains the more detailed breakdowns. If you have any questions about the summary, you can refer to the individual documents."
"Got it," Yang nodded. With Changxing Industrial growing rapidly, he really didn't have the time to go through everything line by line—summaries were the way to go.
After reviewing for a while, he asked, "Looks like the Post-it business is expanding pretty well in Europe? Profits are even higher than in the U.S.?"
"Yes," Wei said with a grin. "When we started working with 3M, we didn't have much choice in pricing, so we played it safe.
But since sales in the U.S. took off, we've increased prices slightly in Europe and other export markets. Among them, European consumers have the highest purchasing power.
Right now, Europe's market size can't beat the U.S., but because the profit margins are higher, the total earnings are actually on par."
"Very good," Yang said with a nod. "Apply the same model to other products—use 3M to scale, expand to other regions, and follow the high-margin strategy."
In his previous life, the EU's total economic output had surpassed that of the U.S., but that wasn't the case in the 1960s. America remained the world's undisputed economic superpower.
Well, except maybe for the Soviet Union—but that market was inaccessible anyway.
"Understood," Wei replied.
Yang continued, "If this trend holds, our monthly net profit from Post-it notes alone will soon exceed HK$3 million."
"Three million?" Su Yiyi, who had been quietly listening, couldn't help but exclaim in shock when she heard the number.
Wei smiled. "That's right. More and more customers are buying Post-it notes. Once people get used to them, they can't stop.
And because they're mostly corporate purchases, individual employees don't worry about using them sparingly. Post-its are cheap anyway."
"Exactly," Yang laughed. "And most office supplies don't actually get used up—they just get lost. So people grab a new one. That cycle never ends."
Anyone who'd ever worked in an office could relate. Even in the ultra-safe mainland, you could leave a hundred-yuan note on your desk, and no one would touch it. But a pen or a lighter? Gone in minutes.
"Yeah, I was the same way," Su Yiyi said thoughtfully. "Only after I got my own private office did things settle down a bit."
"That's one of the hidden advantages of selling office supplies," Wei nodded, silently thinking: You're the first lady now—who'd dare steal your pens?
Yang continued, "We've mostly relied on organic growth for Post-it sales, but it's time to rethink our strategy. Coordinate with overseas distributors and start putting real resources into marketing."
Up until now, demand for Post-its had far outstripped supply, so they hadn't needed to advertise much. Word-of-mouth did most of the work.
But even the best products needed marketing. Just look at Coca-Cola or, in his past life, Apple's iPhones—marketing was an essential part of business, especially for products with low technical barriers.
"Will do," Wei nodded. "Mr. Yang, our current production capacity is already maxed out. I was thinking of starting phase three of the factory."
"Alright," Yang said. "What about the glue supply? Do we have enough?"
"We're covered," Wei replied. "3M has just invested in a large-scale tape production line in Tuen Mun, and Mr. Qian is expanding the glue factory as well.
This time, we're increasing glue production tenfold. It'll fully support 3M's needs and our internal use. Even our glue traps are selling like crazy—the demand for glue is off the charts."
"Glue traps… I bet there's a ton of counterfeits by now, huh?" Yang asked.
This had been the product that launched his business. It still had strong potential, though it couldn't compare to the profitability of Post-it notes or luggage.
Wei answered, "Yes, there's a lot of knockoffs. Not just for the glue traps—our adhesive hooks, Post-its, even the spin mops are being copied."
"Well, that's the eternal problem," Yang said with a sigh. "Coordinate with the distributors and maintain a strong grip on key markets.
As long as we control the retail end, we can suppress most of the fakes. Pursuing every case of infringement isn't worth the cost."
At that time, global attitudes toward intellectual property still lagged behind what he was used to in the 21st century. But at least in Western countries, there was a general effort to enforce "fair trade."
Of course, that didn't mean the West truly cared about fairness—it's just that the global patent system gave them more benefits. So when non-Western companies did hold a patent, Western courts were still willing to protect the "rules" of fairness.
To a large extent, it was this very principle that allowed Japanese products in the '60s through '80s to gain traction in Europe and America.
Being able to profit in key regions—rather than trying to eliminate piracy outright—was already enough. Wiping out counterfeits was unrealistic. The cost of defending intellectual property would be too high, and in many places, enforcement wasn't even an option.
That was the reality of the world, and one simply had to accept it.
"Understood," Wei Zetao nodded, then added, "Our suitcase business is also becoming more and more profitable. In the future, it might even surpass Post-it notes as the company's most profitable product.
The only issue is shipping. Our luggage takes up a lot of space. When transported on other ships, not only are the freight charges high, but our goods often get delayed due to loading and unloading conflicts with other cargo."
Yang Wendong nodded. "That'll have to wait on news from the U.S. I'll get it sorted as soon as possible."
Having their own ships wasn't just about saving money—it was about saving time. In this world, time was more valuable than money, especially for large enterprises.
That's why major industries with high logistics demands—like petroleum, mining, and bulk grain—almost always operated their own fleets. Or at the very least, they leased dedicated ships. That's how Pao Yue-kong had made his fortune.
Half a month later.
Zheng Yuhua returned from the U.S. with some big news.
"Mr. Yang, we've identified around 14 suitable cargo ships during our inspection," she reported.
"Fourteen? That's a bit much, isn't it?" Yang Wendong was startled by the number.
Knowing that shipping could be profitable was one thing—but scaling too fast wasn't the goal. Even if they could recruit enough people, such rapid expansion was risky. Besides, even Changxing Industrial didn't need that many ships right now.
Zheng clarified, "We've only identified 14 that are worth considering. Their condition is good, but the final decision on how many and which ones to buy is up to you."
"Alright," Yang nodded. "What's the price range?"
"Still under negotiation, but the U.S. is treating them as scrap. Each ship should cost around 60,000 to 80,000 U.S. dollars."
"But there's a problem," she continued. "We're not the only ones eyeing these ships. Shipping tycoon Tung Chao-yung is also interested. He's looking at the same batch—mainly the better-quality ones, which are the same ones we've targeted."
"That could complicate things," Yang frowned.
He remembered that in actual history, Tung had indeed bought a large number of these American ships.
Zheng added, "His people are clever. They reached out to us privately. They suggested that we avoid public bidding. If this gets too competitive, the Americans will be the only ones who profit."
"Smart," Yang said approvingly. "Did you reach an agreement?"
"No," Zheng shook her head. "Neither side is willing to concede. So I proposed that this issue should be discussed directly between you and Mr. Tung. That's the only way to reach a decision quickly."
"Fair enough. So I take it his people have already informed Mr. Tung?"
"Yes. Both sides have people back in Hong Kong. We, the intermediaries, will help arrange a meeting between you two.
Given that the U.S. will soon enter its Christmas and New Year holiday period, the best outcome would be to finalize everything before the holidays begin."
"Alright. Just arrange the time, and I'll go," Yang nodded, quite pleased with how Zheng was handling things.
Because in this kind of situation, if either party personally extended the invitation first, they might seem like the weaker one. Zheng had done the right thing.
In a luxury office in Central.
Tung Chao-yung frowned slightly after hearing his assistant, Lin Weishan, finish his briefing.
"This Yang Wendong just entered the shipping industry and already wants to buy this many ships at once? That's incredibly fast. Even Pao Yue-kong took several years to build up to seven ships."
Lin explained, "Mr. Tung, I did some digging. The Post-it King, Yang Wendong, is buying these ships primarily to support exports of his company's wheeled suitcases.
These are lightweight but very bulky products. It's not cost-effective to ship them through traditional freight methods. Our own company has handled similar cargo before—from Hong Kong to Japan, the costs are manageable. But to the U.S. or Europe, it only makes sense if you own the ship."
"Ah… so he already has steady business to support the shipping operation," Tung nodded. "Alright, arrange the meeting."
"Understood," Lin replied.
At the Peninsula Hotel.
Yang Wendong met with one of the most famous shipping magnates of his past life—Tung Chao-yung.
"Mr. Tung, a pleasure to meet you," Yang said with a smile as he extended his hand.
In terms of seniority, Tung stood above the Four Great Families of the future. Even Pao Yue-kong was considered a junior. When Pao decided to enter shipping, Tung was already a well-known shipping entrepreneur in Hong Kong.
Tung nodded as they shook hands. "Mr. Yang, pleasure's mine. You're quite the name these days. I heard about your rags-to-riches story—not many like it in Hong Kong."
"You flatter me," Yang replied with a smile. "Please, have a seat."
Once seated, Tung got straight to the point. "Mr. Yang, I take it you're looking to enter the shipping industry in a serious way?"
Yang Wendong responded calmly, "Not quite yet. My goal in purchasing ships is primarily to handle the transport of my own goods. Mr. Tung, I'm sure you're aware—my luggage products take up a lot of space, and the shipping costs are extremely high.
Only by owning my own fleet can I ensure the lowest costs and the highest efficiency."
"I know your luggage brand. I actually bought one myself—very convenient for business trips," Tung Chao-yung nodded. "But you don't necessarily have to get into shipping personally. Leasing vessels is still an option."
Yang countered, "You mean like what Mr. Pao Yue-kong did with Universal Shipping—long-term charters? From what I know, most shipowners in Hong Kong aren't exactly eager to offer long-term contracts, right?"
Pao Yue-kong had succeeded largely because he broke away from the traditional short-term chartering model and focused on long-term leasing arrangements.
Before that, most shipowners only rented ships out for short durations—weeks or months—or even just per voyage.
The main reason was the volatility of freight rates. Prices could spike unexpectedly, so shipowners preferred short-term contracts that allowed them to cash in when the market was hot.
"Long-term might be off the table, but short-term leasing is always available," Tung shook his head. "Your shipping company is still new and lacks experience. Wouldn't it be better if I acquired those ships in the U.S. and just leased them to you?"
"That won't work for me," Yang said with a grin. "Experience can be acquired—I can always hire people. But ships? I can't rent peace of mind."
When you're exporting in bulk, not owning the vessel is like being a lamb waiting for slaughter. Yang was far too cautious to rely on others for something this vital.
Many Hong Kong shipowners had exploited Japan's postwar restrictions on ship ownership. With Japan forced to lease vessels from Hong Kong, Hong Kong shipowners often jacked up prices at peak demand.
That kind of exploitation had ultimately laid the groundwork for Pao Yue-kong's rise in the industry.
Tung glanced at Yang for a moment, then said, "How about this—I'll let you have three of the ships. Fair?"
Yang smiled coolly. "Mr. Tung, you must be joking. It's a fair competition. There's no 'letting' involved. Unless the Americans promised you the right of first refusal?"
"No, they didn't," Tung admitted. "But Mr. Yang, you only have one ship right now. Even if you poach staff from other companies, how many skilled crew members can you get?
Running a shipping company isn't just about sailors—it requires a fully functional management structure. If you buy too many ships at once, it could exceed your ability to operate them effectively."
"Thanks for your concern, Mr. Tung," Yang replied with a relaxed smile. "I can hire the people I need. As for management, my main goal at this stage is to support my factories.
Even if my ships sail out full and return empty, I can live with that. Of course, if we can carry return cargo, all the better. But shipping operations can evolve gradually—I'm not in a rush."
He was stretching the truth a little—but not by much. He wasn't worried about losing money early on. What mattered most was breaking into the industry, expanding his fleet, and training his team. He was preparing for the global shipping price surge that would follow the Middle East crisis in just a few years.
Even if he lost money for the next two years, the foundation he laid now could be recovered in just a month during a boom cycle.
"You do have a strong advantage," Tung nodded, thinking it over. Then he added, "Still, if we really go head-to-head over this deal, the only ones who win are the Americans. That's not good for either of us."
"I do need those ships," Yang said firmly. "And as you know, opportunities like this—bulk secondhand cargo vessels being offloaded—don't come around often."
Tung fell silent for a moment, then said, "Mr. Yang, how many ships do you actually need? Let's speak plainly. Even if neither of us is willing to yield completely, we don't need to compete for all 14 ships.
Let's lay our cards on the table. We can limit the competition to a subset."
"You're right, Mr. Tung," Yang said with a smile. "I want seven ships. So how about this—we split them evenly: seven each."
"Seven?" Tung frowned slightly. He had hoped to acquire ten.
But before the meeting, he'd done his homework. Although he didn't know Yang's exact financials, it was clear Yang had substantial capital. If this turned into an all-out bidding war, Tung himself might not benefit in the end.
Yang didn't press, simply sipping his tea in silence.
After a long pause, Tung finally nodded. "Alright. Seven it is. But I have a condition."
"Mr. Tung, let's not pretend one of us is doing the other a favor," Yang said casually. "This is a fair deal. There's no need for conditions."
Tung laughed. "It's actually in your interest too."
"Alright then—let's hear it," Yang replied.
Tung explained, "You're buying these ships to service major trade routes. But smaller countries still require traditional shipping arrangements, don't they?
Why not hand over those smaller routes to my company? I'll even give you a discount on the rates."
"That can be discussed," Yang nodded. "But I can't promise everything—only certain shipments."
"Fair enough," Tung agreed. That was just a gesture, really—giving them both a face-saving way to wrap things up. Then he added, "Next time there's a shipping industry gathering, I'll bring you along. Chinese and British owners alike attend."
"A gathering? Sure," Yang said with a smile.
Most of his early ventures were export-focused and didn't involve much interaction with Hong Kong's traditional players. But now that he was moving into multiple core industries, it was time to build relationships.
Even if they were competitors, everyone still needed to maintain some public decorum.
January 1961.
Zheng Yuhua returned to the U.S. and finalized the deal with the relevant authorities. In the end, they purchased seven cargo ships for a total of HK$3.5 million.
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