Chapter 233: Maritime Academy and Investment in Global Shipping
The next morning, Yang Wendong took a few extra minutes to tidy up his appearance.
Noticing this, Su Yiyi asked curiously, "Brother Dong, you really care about this Pao Yue-kong, huh? I haven't seen you get this dressed up since you met the Governor."
"I do care a lot," Yang Wendong replied. "His rise in business is fascinating, and I think he has limitless potential in the industry."
"That impressive?" Su Yiyi was surprised. "I don't think I've ever heard you speak so highly of anyone."
"You'd understand if you knew how he started," Yang chuckled. "He was once a senior banker in Shanghai—vice general manager at a local bank, a very high position. Then, to escape the war, he came to Hong Kong and started from scratch. While most others dove into real estate or opened factories, he built a successful trading business and then put everything he had into buying a second-hand cargo ship, borrowing money on top of that."
"That sounds like a huge gamble," Su said with wide eyes.
"It was," Yang nodded, "but it paid off. He pioneered a new business model—leasing ships long-term at stable rates. Kind of like making a small profit per deal, but making up for it in volume."
"Is that model really that good?" Su asked.
"From a risk-management perspective, yes. It offers stable long-term revenue. But it can also mean missing out on short-term windfalls. Still, it's a very sound strategy. That's why HSBC took a special interest in him—he became the first Chinese shipping entrepreneur to get a loan from them."
"So are you planning to do the same with your new ships—long-term leases?" she asked.
"No," Yang said with a slight smile. "Not yet. I'll operate using the traditional model for a few years first. Maybe later I'll adopt Pao's approach."
If he didn't already know that the 1967 Middle East crisis would spark a golden period for shipping, he might've chosen the same long-term lease model from the start.
"Oh." Su nodded, not digging further into the technical stuff. Then she asked playfully, "So how far will this Pao guy go? He won't outshine you, will he?"
Yang laughed. "In shipping? He probably will."
As someone from the future, Yang knew he had a big advantage in areas like real estate and consumer goods. But in highly specialized fields like shipping, things were different.
On the surface, the shipping business seemed simple—buy ships, rent them out, or operate shipping routes. But it wasn't a business you could scale just by throwing money at it.
If it were that easy, someone like Pao Yue-kong wouldn't have been able to rise from behind and become one of the top shipping magnates in the world in less than twenty years.
Yang was confident he could make it big in shipping thanks to his knowledge of future trends, but surpassing Pao? That would be a tough ask. It was like starting a supermarket and hoping to beat Walmart—nearly impossible.
Su looked amazed. "Wow, so impressive… Are you thinking of investing in his company?"
"If I get the chance, I'd love to," Yang replied without hesitation.
…
Around noon, Yang Wendong arrived at the designated hotel early—only to find that Pao Yue-kong had gotten there even earlier.
"Mr. Pao, a pleasure," Yang said with a warm smile, extending his hand. "I've heard so much about you."
Yang had seen pictures of the legendary shipping tycoon in his previous life. Pao's reputation was immense, and before his death, he had done a lot of philanthropy on the mainland. One university he donated to even had a statue of him.
"You flatter me, Mr. Yang," Pao replied. "A few years ago, I was more of a punchline than a businessman. Your success, building everything from scratch to what you have now—that's truly impressive."
"Haha, let's sit," Yang said as they took their seats. "Sometimes, what people laugh at today becomes a legend tomorrow. What you did took real guts. I don't think I'd have dared to make such a leap."
Shipping was a capital-intensive game. Small-time businessmen couldn't afford to play. Even now, Changxing Group only dared to step into shipping because Yang had foreknowledge of the industry's future. Without that, he would've stuck to building ships gradually, as needed for industrial exports.
But back then, Pao had gone all in—pouring his entire fortune into one ship, even borrowing money. He was ridiculed by big British firms like Wheelock and even fellow Chinese shipping elites like Tung Hao-yun.
Pao laughed. "Looking back, yeah, I probably lost my mind a little. If it hadn't worked out, I'd be ruined. Fortunately, I got lucky."
"That's how it goes in business," Yang nodded. "But you made it. That's what counts. So, Mr. Pao, what's this meeting about?"
"There are two things," Pao said frankly. "First, I heard you're building a shipyard in Kwai Chung. Word is, the land's big enough for five dry docks. I'd like to reserve a spot for my ships in advance. Just give me a good rate."
Yang laughed. "You're very observant, Mr. Pao."
While most people knew Changxing was building a shipyard, few paid attention to how large the plot of land was. It was far more than what one dry dock needed. Yang had even bought up extra land around it for future use, maybe to build warehouses.
After a sip of tea, he said, "Of course I'll give you a good rate. The more ships you bring, the bigger the discount. I can't give you exact figures yet—we'll talk again once we start operations."
Hong Kong's current shipyards, whether British- or Chinese-owned, charged hefty fees. Yang's new yard would have to offer more competitive rates to grab market share—especially when a single client like Pao could practically keep the entire yard busy.
"Much appreciated," Pao said with a smile. Then, after a pause, he added, "The second matter is—I want to invite you to invest in a maritime academy."
"A maritime academy?" Yang's eyes lit up. He'd heard of this project before.
In the original timeline, Pao had indeed founded a private academy after his shipping empire rose to prominence. The goal was to train professional seafarers and maritime staff.
"Yes, a full-scale educational institution," Pao explained. "Hong Kong's shipping industry is booming, but talent is scarce. In Europe and America, countries with strong maritime sectors have professional universities that teach the entire system of maritime knowledge. Hong Kong lacks that infrastructure."
"That's a good idea," Yang nodded. "You're thinking of training young people with maritime skills and then hiring them for your own company?"
"Exactly," Pao confirmed. "If we want to scale up, we need a reliable talent pipeline. This academy would be a long-term investment, but one that pays off in stability and growth."
"Very forward-thinking," Yang said. "And how far along is the planning?"
Pao smiled. "Still early. I've spoken to a few educators, but the real issue is funding and credibility. If we can get reputable investors involved—especially someone like you—it will make things much smoother."
Yang tapped his fingers lightly on the table, already thinking through the implications.
Training their own workforce would be a major competitive advantage. And it would solve one of the biggest pain points in the industry: the shortage of skilled crew and engineers.
And this wasn't just about Pao. Yang's own shipyard, shipping company, and industrial exports would benefit too. Having a constant stream of trained workers would give him independence from recruitment cycles and overseas labor costs.
He looked up and smiled. "Count me in."
"If the colonial government won't do it, then we'll just have to do it ourselves," Pao Yue-kong said firmly.
Yang Wendong thought for a moment and then asked, "What kinds of personnel would the academy train?"
Pao replied, "Many kinds—from basic sailors and repairmen, to engineers, first officers, and even captains. But of course, each position comes with its own academic requirements, prior experience, and skill criteria. I haven't fully worked out the specifics yet. These are things we'll only know once we're fully immersed in the process."
"So the training duration for each student would also be variable?" Yang asked.
"Yes," Pao nodded. "Graduation time would depend on personal capability, the quality of our instruction, and the students' baseline knowledge. No two people will be the same. The upside is, we'll have access to a large fleet of ships for hands-on training and practical assessments."
"That does make sense." Yang nodded in agreement. He understood that a program like this couldn't be measured with a rigid timeline.
Then he asked, "What if, after we train these people, they don't join our companies? What if they get poached by British shipping companies or other competitors? Wouldn't that make it all a waste of time and money?"
Pao had clearly anticipated this question. "That's why we'll charge regular students tuition. Anyone who pays has the freedom to choose where they go after graduation, and we have no obligations to them. However, for top-tier students whom we sponsor—those receiving free or discounted training—we'll have them sign legally binding agreements. They'll be required to work for us for a certain number of years, or pay a hefty penalty if they break the contract."
Yang laughed. "Pao, you're not just training talent for yourself—you're creating value for all of Hong Kong's shipping industry. Other companies will benefit from your academy too."
"I know, and I welcome that," Pao replied. "The more talent Hong Kong has, the stronger the entire industry becomes. It's a mutually beneficial ecosystem. The shipping industry can't grow on the back of one man alone. We all need to improve together."
He continued, "The second reason is, if you eliminate freedom of choice, students may not put in genuine effort. If they don't learn anything and we still have to hire them, then we're the ones taking the real loss. That would defeat the entire purpose of creating the academy."
"You're absolutely right," Yang agreed. "You can't force it."
He paused, then asked, "Have you approached any other shipping companies about joining in?"
Pao shook his head. "I tried. I reached out to Wheelock and Golden Mountain Shipping. They weren't interested. As for Jardine and Swire, I don't even have the connections to get a meeting with their executives, and even if I did, I doubt they'd agree."
"How much will this investment take?" Yang asked.
Pao replied, "Not much, to be honest. A few classrooms and a small faculty won't cost much. The real investment is time and effort in running the academy properly. If you're on board, I suggest we build the school near your shipyard in Drunken Bay. That way, students can train on-site and observe complex repair work in real time."
He added, "And land prices out there aren't high. If we co-invest and buy a plot the size of a small primary school, that should do it."
"In that case, we're talking maybe a few hundred thousand," Yang said thoughtfully. Then, without much hesitation, he nodded. "Alright, let's do it. Whether for Hong Kong or just for ourselves, we need to train enough skilled professionals."
A lack of talent could cripple the development of any region, especially when it came to industrial and technical sectors. Entire nations had risen or fallen based on how well they cultivated human capital.
Hong Kong was destined to become one of the most developed shipping hubs in the world. That would naturally require a massive pool of skilled labor. Whether or not he participated, Yang knew that Pao—and even those shipping tycoons who had declined now—would eventually pursue this idea.
It wasn't even a large investment, and the return was enormous. Training his own people would save future recruitment headaches. Having a crew full of experienced professionals was worlds apart from a few veterans leading a group of greenhorns.
"Haha, Mr. Yang, you're refreshingly decisive," Pao said with a big smile. "Then I'll take a closer look at Drunken Bay and choose a site for the school. I'll aim to have it ready in time to open alongside your shipyard."
"Great. Get a bigger plot if you can," Yang added. "The closer the academy is, the more efficient the learning."
"Absolutely." Pao nodded.
Yang then asked, "I heard you recently bought two new cargo ships from Japan?"
"That's right," Pao confirmed. "Before this, I had seven vessels, all second-hand. It limited the kind of business I could take on. So I finally decided to bite the bullet and order brand-new ships. Are you thinking of doing the same?"
"I am," Yang smiled. "In fact, I wanted to ask you—what should I be watching out for when buying new ships?"
Even though he had professionals working under him, buying either second-hand or new ships required extreme caution. The cost was too high to risk blindly. As the boss, Yang didn't need to know every technical detail, but he certainly needed to understand the key decision points—especially the kind of things you only learn through experience.
Pao, being a veteran in the field and a shrewd businessman, definitely had more insight than Yang. This was the perfect opportunity to learn from him.
"Of course," Pao said, thinking for a moment. "First off, what you'll want to pay attention to is—"
Pao began to explain in detail, sharing experiences from his own ship purchases. He also described issues he'd encountered and valuable lessons he'd learned from conversations with other shipowners. Yang listened intently, gaining insight he couldn't have found in any manual.
After about half an hour, Pao said, "That's all I can think of for now in such a short time. But I've compiled a few internal documents at my company—some guides, technical specs, and my own notes. I'll have someone send them over to you."
"Thank you, Mr. Pao." Yang was truly grateful. He knew these documents were incredibly valuable. Even though sharing knowledge didn't reduce the value of the original, most people still guarded their hard-earned experience closely.
Then, with a chuckle, he asked, "Aren't you worried that sharing such important information with me might turn me into a future competitor?"
"Haha!" Pao laughed. "Our scale, even if multiplied several times over, doesn't make us true competitors yet. And if that day does come, it'll be many years from now. Why worry about something so far away?"
He added, "Besides, even if we do become competitors, that doesn't make us enemies. I'd still like to maintain good relationships within the industry."
"Well said," Yang praised. "I, too, hope to stay on good terms with my peers. It's better if we all profit together."
He paused for a moment, then said, "Actually, I have another idea. I wonder—would Global Shipping be open to outside investment?"
Although the Pao family would eventually leave the shipping business in the 1980s, there was still a solid two decades of incredible returns ahead. Getting in now, while the company was expanding, would be an excellent opportunity.
More importantly, financial investment could deepen their business relationship. If Yang had the chance to become a shareholder in Pao's company, he definitely wouldn't pass it up.
Just like investing in Walmart in its early days—this wasn't something you let slip through your fingers.
Get 30% off on my Patreon and enjoy early access to new chapters.
You can also purchase the next 100 chapters of the novel directly from my Patreon page.
Hurry up! The promotion ends on February 2, 2026.
Read 40 Chapters In Advance: patreon.com/johanssen10