On Friday, after the program Who Wants to Be a Millionaire ended, it did not immediately cut to commercials. The host picked up the microphone:
"Dear viewers, let me introduce a competition organized by our station — Miss Asia!"
"Miss Asia is a beauty pageant. All girls aged 16 to 35, from Hong Kong, the mainland, Taiwan, Macau, Japan, Korea, Malaysia, Thailand, and other Asian countries, may register to participate."
"Now listen carefully, because Miss Asia offers rewards for contestants."
"Among the Champion, First Runner‑Up, and Second Runner‑Up: the Second Runner‑Up will receive HK$20,000 cash; the First Runner‑Up will receive HK$50,000 cash and a staff worth HK$50,000; and most importantly, the Champion will receive HK$100,000 cash, a crown worth HK$100,000, and a contract to star as the female lead in a television drama — a direct entry into the entertainment industry."
"In addition to these three prizes, Miss Asia also awards 'Sweetest Smile,' 'Best Figure,' and 'Most Talented.' Each carries HK$10,000 cash."
"Judging is based on beauty and figure. So if you are confident you can stand out among the contestants, don't wait — register now!"
"Contestants must be unmarried and childless, have never entered similar pageants, be healthy, have no disreputable occupations, and no criminal record."
"Hong‑Neui! Come out quickly!"
Watching ATV's broadcast, Mrs. Chung called toward the room.
"Coming!" a voice replied.
Her second daughter, watching TV, said: "Mum, you're not thinking of having sister join Miss Asia, are you?"
Before Mrs. Chung could answer, the third daughter chimed in: "Sister is very beautiful. If she enters, she'll definitely win a prize."
"You're right," Mrs. Chung said approvingly, glancing at her youngest. That was exactly her thought.
"What is it, Mum?"
An eighteen‑year‑old girl stepped out of the room. Her hair was cut short to her shoulders, her brows delicate, her face fresh without makeup, yet her beauty was undeniable.
"Hong‑Neui, come here," Mrs. Chung beckoned. Pointing to the TV, she said: "ATV is holding Miss Asia, similar to Miss Hong Kong. But Miss Asia judges by beauty and figure. You're so striking, you're sure to win."
"Mum, please, no. You said you'd let me think about it," Chung Chor Hung replied helplessly. She disliked beauty contests, feeling like merchandise. When Miss Hong Kong was held earlier this year, though eligible, she refused. Her mother had agreed to let her reconsider, not forcing her.
Mrs. Chung wanted her daughter to enter Miss Hong Kong because the family's situation was modest. Since age 11, Chor Hung had helped her father, later studying while working to support the household.
In her mother's eyes, with her looks, she could win or at least place high, gain fame, then earn money through acting, improving the family's life.
Past Miss Hong Kong winners like Deborah, Zhao YaZhi, and Miu KengYan had risen to fame and acted in films, becoming well‑known. Acting income far exceeded her daughter's wages.
"This time is different," Mrs. Chung insisted. "Miss Asia's Champion gets HK$100,000, a crown worth HK$100,000, and a lead drama contract. The First Runner‑Up gets HK$50,000 cash and a staff worth HK$50,000. Even the Second Runner‑Up gets HK$20,000 cash. And there are three other prizes, each HK$10,000."
"So there are six prizes, with at least HK$10,000 each?"
Chor Hung was immediately tempted, calculating how long it would take her to earn HK$10,000.
"My monthly wage is HK$350. A year is HK$4,200. Two years is HK$8,400. I'd need another four and a half months to reach HK$10,000. Nearly two and a half years — and that's without spending a cent."
At that time, Hong Kong's average wage was just over HK$500. But averages didn't mean everyone earned that.
At 18, not doing heavy labor or skilled work, and not working in dance halls, her wage was only HK$350 — below average.
"Hong‑Neui, this time you must enter. Even if you don't win Champion, as long as you place as First Runner‑Up, your sisters' and brother's tuition will be covered, with money left to improve our living conditions," Mrs. Chung said firmly. Even if her daughter resisted, she would register her.
"Mum, don't worry. I'll enter Miss Asia," Chor Hung smiled. She was willing, for the prize money. Studying while working was exhausting, but with poor family conditions she had no choice. She knew money was hard to earn. Now, with a chance to win big without real cost, she wouldn't let it slip away.
She even thought: if she won Champion or First Runner‑Up, her siblings wouldn't have to suffer like her, juggling school and work. She wanted them to focus fully on studies, achieve better grades, and enter university.
"Good! Good!" Mrs. Chung said happily, patting her daughter's hand.
They noted the registration details. Seeing that sign‑ups began the next day, they decided to register immediately.
That night, many Hong Kong families with pretty daughters but modest means made the same choice as the Chungs.
The desire for a better life is universal. And more money often makes life better.