Lin Baicheng had been away from Hong Kong for several days. So, the morning after he returned, he prioritized handling business matters, quickly signing documents that required his approval.
Thankfully, he didn't own too many companies yet, so after working through most of the morning, he managed to settle all urgent affairs.
"Yufeng, how are the negotiations for acquiring the remaining shares of the television station?"
After finishing his work, Lin called Cheng Yufeng into his office.
"Initially, two shareholders didn't want to sell. But after they learned you planned to inject HK$50 million into the station and that their shares would be diluted if they didn't invest proportionally, they agreed to sell. However, they want you to purchase their shares at a HK$150 million valuation for the company. I'm still negotiating with them," Cheng reported.
"A valuation of HK$150 million is only slightly more than a 20% premium—not too high. Acceptable," Lin calculated. He felt that gaining full control of the television station was more important than haggling over a few million. Only by owning the station outright could he reform it without restraints, and its future profits would no longer benefit shareholders who contributed nothing.
"Yufeng, go ahead and finalize the deal. Acquire all of their shares based on the HK$150 million valuation."
"Understood, Mr. Lin. I'll contact them shortly," Cheng replied.
That afternoon, Lin completed the transactions one by one. At a HK$150 million valuation, he bought the remaining 39% of the station's shares, spending HK$58.5 million.
In total, Lin had spent HK$178.5 million to acquire the station entirely—around HK$60 million more than Standard Chartered's offer valuing the station at HK$110–120 million. That meant he paid roughly a 50% premium.
It was indeed a hefty premium, but television stations aren't like ordinary companies—you can't just open one whenever you please. They require Hong Kong government approval. And Lin knew very well he didn't have the influence to get another TV license approved just for him.
Still, Lin didn't think the price was unreasonable. Consider the stock of Wharf Holdings—if he hadn't intervened, Pao Yue-kong (the shipping tycoon) would've acquired it in 1980 at more than a 50% premium as well—buying nearly 20 million shares at HK$105 per share when the stock was under HK$50, spending around HK$2 billion in total.
Compared to that, what Lin paid didn't seem excessive.
Whether paying above market value is worth it depends on the buyer's vision and the company's future.
Lin believed his investment was worthwhile. He was confident the television station would flourish under his ownership. Besides, a media outlet isn't only about profit—it's about influence. Even if it loses money, it's worth holding on to, unless the losses become unbearable.
However, after paying HK$178.5 million to fully acquire the TV station and preparing to inject an additional HK$50 million, Lin's cash reserves were running low.
Originally, he had close to HK$400 million in cash. He spent HK$100 million on Zhiyin Manga, nearly HK$240 million on the TV station and the toy company, leaving only a few tens of millions.
Fortunately, about two-thirds of the orders from the Los Angeles trade fair had been fulfilled over the past two months, bringing in tens of millions more. Altogether, his company still had slightly over HK$100 million in cash.
But Lin did not plan to spend this money on further acquisitions—for now. If he did, it would only be on small companies like Jupiter Toys, costing perhaps HK$10 million at most.
The reason was simple—there were already plenty of areas needing funding. Game console development was underway. Purchasing raw materials and equipment required money. The development of the game Donkey Kong, led by Shigeru Miyamoto, needed investment. The toy company needed cash to stock up on Rubik's Cubes.
The next day.
Now the sole owner of Asia Television, Lin returned to the station. This time, he transferred the HK$50 million into the station's designated account. Previously, before acquiring full ownership, he refrained from injecting the funds since the company wasn't entirely his.
Manager Huang Xizhao had been thoughtful. Even though Lin had only visited the TV station once before, Huang had already prepared a private office for him as the new boss. Lin didn't decline—after all, as the full owner, he would be spending more time here.
If he wanted to transform the station and boost ratings, he'd need to be hands-on. Higher ratings meant more advertising revenue and better promotional power.
"Manager Huang, as of yesterday, I've acquired all remaining shares. From now on, the station belongs entirely to me. In future operations, there's no need to consider former shareholders. If there were any advertisements, procurement deals, or incompetent staff who were kept in key positions due to their influence—well, I trust you know what to do."
Huang nodded. "Previously, Rediffusion (the former main shareholder) held absolute control, so things like that didn't happen. But they did have one request—an English channel dedicated to broadcasting programs from Rediffusion. Now that ownership has changed, we'll probably have to pay for rights if we want to keep the English channel. So I wanted to ask—should we cancel it?"
Lin didn't answer immediately and asked instead, "How are the ratings and profits for the English channel?"
"Not bad. Since Rediffusion let us broadcast their English programs for free, the profit margin was good. But if we start paying for content, it'll likely operate at a loss. After all, there aren't that many foreign viewers in Hong Kong."
"In that case, cancel the English channel," Lin decided. Hong Kong was still predominantly Chinese-speaking. There was no need to spend extra money and effort for such a small audience.
Huang didn't object—he felt the same, otherwise he wouldn't have brought it up.
As for the viewers who would miss English programming—well, that wasn't Lin's concern.