Chapter 184: The Government Land Auction
According to the information Yang Wendong had previously reviewed, Formosa Plastics' original launch cost was $500,000 USD, including loans. In 1957, the company nearly went bankrupt, but then Wang Yung-ching doubled down and expanded production during a downturn—and succeeded.
After stabilizing their market presence in Taiwan, it made sense that the company's valuation would grow several times over. In fact, if not for the massive potential orders from Changxing Industrial, it would've been nearly impossible for any ordinary investor to buy in at this stage.
Once a company reaches a certain size, it generally no longer accepts passive investment unless that investment offers additional strategic value.
Yang had handed over Formosa Plastics' financial documents to the lawyers and investment analysts who had accompanied him. He personally only skimmed the revenue and net profit—valuation would be up to the professionals.
With some free time, Yang and the team also visited downtown Taipei for a bit of sightseeing.
They were accompanied by Wang Hongyuan, a Changxing employee who had been stationed in Taiwan. Along the way, he also gave a brief report on product sales in the region.
After listening, Yang smiled. "So our best-selling product in Taiwan is the spin mop?"
"Yes," Wang Hongyuan replied. "There's high demand here—people really like it. Although Taiwan has a much larger population than Hong Kong, the land area is also bigger. That means more floor space to clean, and people naturally prefer the spin mop."
"Makes sense," Yang nodded. In fact, in his memory, the spin mop had originated from Taiwan.
Likely, the demand here had driven someone to create it in the first place.
Wei Zetao added, "Post-it sales in Taiwan are average. That's because there aren't many offices here yet. Suitcase sales are even lower—people just don't travel as much.
But adhesive hooks are doing decently. That's a hard-need product. No matter the environment, hooks are always better than drilling holes in the wall."
"Different market needs for different products," Yang said.
Post-its were mainly for office use. Suitcases targeted higher-end consumers. Both weren't ideal fits for Taiwan's still-developing economy.
Even in Hong Kong, those products only had a slight edge.
Hooks and mops, on the other hand, were basic consumer goods—affordable and widely useful.
Wang Hongyuan added, "Mr. Yang, recently there have been some knock-off spin mop and adhesive hook factories popping up here.
We've been cracking down through our distributors—it's had some effect, but we can't eliminate them completely."
"No need to wipe them all out," Yang said. "Just follow the Japanese model. Don't go chasing after rogue factories—we don't even know where most of them are.
Just have our distributors keep an eye on retail outlets. They should be able to handle that."
Fighting piracy needed to be cost-effective. Taking down the majority was enough.
Changxing's Taiwan distributor was someone with strong connections to high-level political figures.
The distributor would handle legal channels; the local partner would handle the rest. This cooperation model allowed them to carve out their market.
Japan worked in a similar way, but because it was so large, the country was divided into several operational zones.
"We've already started doing that," Wang Hongyuan replied. "Hua Hui is even leveraging both legal and underground networks to pressure certain stores.
The problem is, the news doesn't travel well. Even if they get stories printed in the paper, most people still don't know what's going on."
"Then just focus on the big cities first," Yang said, unconcerned. In a world where information moved slowly, fighting piracy was naturally harder.
It wasn't like the mobile internet era, where a single news story could be pushed to millions of users in seconds—tailored to their interests, no less.
"Understood," Wang Hongyuan replied.
Yang continued, "Besides your regular duties with Changxing, I have something else I'd like you to do."
"Yes, Mr. Yang?"
"I want you to start collecting information on medium-to-large factories in Taiwan," Yang said. "Especially ones with growth potential. Gather reports and send them to Hong Kong periodically."
It was only after the opportunity to invest in Wang Yung-ching that Yang realized Taiwan had quite a few industrial giants in the making.
If he could invest in them early, the returns could rival—perhaps even exceed—Hong Kong real estate.
Meanwhile, Hong Kong itself had almost no factories with the potential to grow into massive enterprises. Real estate was the only solid bet there.
Sure, Europe, the U.S., and Japan also had great companies—but their development had started earlier. By now, the chance to get in early on a future unicorn was much slimmer.
"I'll check once a month," Wang Hongyuan promised.
He didn't understand why the boss wanted this—but it wasn't his place to ask.
After two days of sightseeing, Yang returned to Hong Kong with most of his group. A few remained behind to work with Wang Yung-ching and his legal team to finalize the equity investment.
Before the investment could proceed, a full financial audit of Formosa Plastics was required—a standard step in any equity deal.
Back in Hong Kong, Zheng Zhijie brought news: "Mr. Yang, our registration has been accepted. We're cleared to participate in the government land auction at the end of the month."
"Good," Yang nodded. "Let's wait for the day, then. This will be our first official appearance at a land auction."
If they were going to be in real estate, bidding on government land was inevitable.
That was the industry's official path.
Specializing in buying up and redeveloping old buildings was fine too, but it was time-consuming and often entangled with shady dealings.
While Yang wasn't afraid of the "dark side," he didn't want his business empire to be too closely tied to it.
"These are the other registered bidders," Zheng added, handing over a file.
Yang flipped through it and commented, "Mostly Chinese developers? Not many British firms—why?"
"Because the British firms prefer to buy land and build office towers to collect rent," Zheng explained. "Chinese developers prefer to build residential or commercial properties and flip them quickly for cash.
Since the government is offering residential land this time, more Chinese companies are participating."
"Got it." Yang closed the folder. He didn't recognize most of the companies—understandable.
By 1966, many of these developers would be wiped out in the upcoming crash. Only a few would survive into the 70s and 80s.
The future "Four Big Families" were probably still flying under the radar.
Zheng then handed over another document. "This is our plan for the new office building.
We're proposing 12 floors, with each floor at 13,000 square feet. That gives us a total of 156,000 square feet—significantly larger than Hong Wah Tower."
"This plot came from demolishing multiple old buildings, right?" Yang asked, glancing at the building diagrams.
"Yes. Three buildings in total. The combined area is about 18,000 square feet.
The zoning code allowed for a floor area ratio of 8, but we pulled some strings and got it increased to 8.6."
Yang reviewed the documents. "We haven't started bidding yet, right?"
"No, not yet. Once you confirm the general specs, we can open bidding for the design phase," Zheng Zhijie replied. "Construction bidding will follow the design phase."
Yang Wendong nodded. "Alright, just follow the standard process. But remember—this building might become the future headquarters of Changxing Real Estate, or even the short-term HQ of the entire Changxing Group. Don't cut corners on quality."
Right now, all of his businesses aside from Changxing Industrial's factory were packed into Hong Wah Tower. That setup would work for the short term, but in the long run, it wouldn't be sustainable.
Especially as a time traveler, Yang knew what was coming. With enough capital on hand, any of his industries could grow rapidly. It was crucial to prepare new office space ahead of time.
Otherwise, knowing that land prices would crash in 1966, he wouldn't be considering spending this much on real estate now—it was simply that his growing businesses needed the space.
"Understood, Mr. Yang," Zheng replied. Then he added, "One more thing. Besides Blue Asia Cinema, none of the other theaters on Hong Kong Island are willing to sell.
So I was thinking of following our strategy in Kowloon—buy land or old buildings, demolish them, and build new cinemas ourselves."
"That's fine. Build them if you have to," Yang agreed. "There aren't that many cinemas in Hong Kong right now anyway."
Hong Kong's economy was developing rapidly, but cinema construction hadn't kept up.
If he moved early, he'd gain a first-mover advantage. Theaters needed distance between them to thrive—it was best to claim locations before competitors did.
…
A week later — Tuesday, August 30
The Hong Kong government hosted a major land auction inside Alexandra House in Central. Yang Wendong attended discreetly with Zheng Zhijie.
"I don't recognize many people here," Yang said quietly after glancing around.
Zheng smiled. "Mr. Yang, your past ventures were mostly in industry. It's natural that you don't know many people in real estate. Let me introduce you."
"Sure," Yang nodded.
Zheng began pointing out various attendees from a distance, offering whispered introductions.
Yang listened casually. None of these names had made it big post-1970s, so he saw little reason to build connections now.
Suddenly, Zheng mentioned a familiar name: "That man over there is Cheng Yutong, the son-in-law of jewelry king Chow Chi-yuen."
"Cheng Yutong?" Yang's expression sharpened as he turned to look. A man in his early 30s was chatting confidently with a group of older businessmen.
Despite being younger, he clearly commanded respect—everyone around him seemed eager to please.
Zheng asked, "Mr. Yang, have you heard of him before?"
"I have," Yang nodded. Cheng Yutong would eventually become the head of one of Hong Kong's future Four Big Families.
Unlike Li Ka-shing, who was still tinkering with plastic flowers at this point, Cheng had already entered real estate years ago and was doing quite well.
Zheng added, "Last year, Cheng developed a project in North Point—over a hundred villas. He reportedly made several million. I imagine he'll be a strong contender here today."
"We'll see who's bolder," Yang said calmly.
In his past life, Cheng was known as the "Daring Tycoon," thanks to his fearless investing style.
If he wanted a project, he'd grab it—even if it looked like a money-loser.
But of course, those "losses" were usually just what others thought. In reality, he always walked away with huge profits.
The auction soon began.
The land on offer was mainly residential and industrial, with only a few commercial plots. The government started with fringe areas on Hong Kong Island and some plots in Kowloon.
Although many parcels were sizable, the mood in the room remained subdued.
"These early lots are all in poor locations," Zheng explained. "Especially transportation—some don't even have minibus access. Developers aren't too interested."
"Yeah, without bus routes, it's a no-go," Yang agreed. Then he asked, "Have either of Hong Kong's bus companies gone public yet?"
At this time, there was no subway in Hong Kong. Just like in China's 80s and 90s, buses were the main form of transportation.
Cars were still a luxury. Even people who lived and worked in Central couldn't afford them.
Human-pulled rickshaws were limited to short distances, and the government was already banning them in busy areas. Taxis would soon take their place.
"No, not yet," Zheng replied. "KMB is reportedly preparing to go public. Not sure about CMB."
"Alright, check into both companies for me tomorrow," Yang said.
There were two franchised bus companies in Hong Kong. CMB dominated the Island; KMB controlled Kowloon.
Like the electricity and telephone sectors, these companies operated in regional monopolies.
…
The auction continued. A few small or average plots were sold after mild bidding.
Half an hour in, a 9,000-square-foot parcel in Central came up. Suddenly, the room's energy shifted—everyone was interested.
Cheng Yutong won that lot with a bid of 1.88 million HKD, prompting gasps around the room.
Then came the big one: the 60,000-square-foot residential plot in Admiralty. Starting price—1.5 million.
Just as bidding opened, Cheng raised his hand. "1.6 million."
The room buzzed again. No one expected him to bid on two prime plots in a row.
Zheng whispered, "Mr. Yang, Cheng's relationship with Hang Seng Bank is excellent. That's how he's been so aggressive in real estate."
"Real estate and banking make a perfect pair," Yang smiled. If it weren't for the fact that Liu Chong Hing Bank would collapse next year, he would've wanted to stick with them long-term too.
Zheng asked, "Should we join in?"
"Hold off," Yang said. "Let's wait and see."
Several more bids came in. The price quickly climbed to 2.45 million—right around the break-even point.
With a nod from Yang, Zheng raised his paddle. "2.5 million."
"Changxing Real Estate—2.5 million," the auctioneer announced excitedly.
Heads turned. Many recognized Yang as last year's "Post-it King." Now he was diving into real estate.
No surprise. In Hong Kong, once a business hit scale, almost every tycoon eventually got involved in property.
"Do I hear a higher bid?" the auctioneer called out.
"2.55 million," Cheng Yutong raised his paddle again.
The room filled with murmurs. At this price, profits were slim—even if there was still some upside.
"2.6 million," Zheng raised his paddle again after another nod from Yang.
Now even Cheng hesitated. He turned and whispered to his team.
"2.6 million—once," the auctioneer called, looking hopefully in Cheng's direction.
After a long pause, with no response, the auctioneer continued.
"2.6 million—twice…"
"2.6 million—sold!"
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