274-275

Chapter 274: Women and the Bank 

Soft lighting made the room appear dim. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the hazy city glimmered with countless lights, still bright against the deep blue night sky. 

Dawn was approaching. Wan Qiwen, dressed in only a pair of panties and an oversized men’s shirt, leaned against a long table. Supporting her body with both hands, her gaze seemed fixed on the view outside, but the dazed look on her face betrayed her wandering thoughts. 

Whenever she closed her eyes, she could vividly recall the debauchery of the previous night. 

Yes, debauchery. 

After the initial absurdity and discomfort faded, the atmosphere, the effects of alcohol amplifying desires, the immense pressure from the station’s top executives, and the dream of making it to Hollywood had all converged.  

In the end, she and the others abandoned their dignity. Like concubines and palace maids in ancient times, they stooped to the most disgraceful levels. 

“This is insane…” 

She murmured as she held her head in her hands. “Everyone’s gone mad!” 

Just then, a voice broke her thoughts. “Why don’t you sleep a bit longer?” 

Startled, she turned to see Yang Gongru standing in her pajamas. Recognizing her, Wan Qiwen sighed in relief. Of all the people involved, Yang Gongru, who had once been her strongest rival for the station’s top spot, felt the least awkward to be around. 

As for the others, just the thought of them made Wan Qiwen cringe with embarrassment. 

“I couldn’t sleep. What about you? You’re up too,” Wan Qiwen forced a smile, looking at Yang Gongru, who was wearing only a thin silk robe. 

“Well, I’m not as ‘favored’ as you, Sister Wan. He only slept with me once. But you, Sister Wan—twice. Not as many as Li Jiaxin and Qiu Shuzhen, but you’re on par with Guan Jiahui,” Yang Gongru replied, her pure and elegant face showing calm acceptance. “It must be your legs. He seems to have a particular fondness for them.” 

Wan Qiwen’s face flushed, turning visibly uncomfortable.  

She turned her head away, taking several moments to regain composure before turning back and biting her lip. “That kind of attention… I’d rather not have it.” 

Yang Gongru simply smiled, changing the subject. “Sister Wan, what’s the plan now?” 

“What else can we do? It’s not like this will get out. Take whatever benefits come our way and pretend nothing happened otherwise,” a voice chimed in from behind them. 

It was Guan Jiahui, an exquisitely beautiful woman in the prime of her life. Fresh from a shower, she wore nothing but a large towel and looked at the two younger women. “I just saw him and his people leave.” 

Yang Gongru and Wan Qiwen immediately greeted her, “Sister Rosa,” using her English name, Rosamund, as most in the industry called her out of respect. 

Yang Gongru hesitated, then quietly asked, “Sister Rosa, do you think Mr. Lin’s promise to get us Hollywood roles… is real?” 

“Counting on Lin Baixin is pointless. The real hope lies in how satisfied you made him last night.” 

Guan Jiahui sat down in front of them, her towel slightly ajar, revealing her smooth and alluring figure. Her boldness was apparent, though it wasn’t surprising given that they’d all been completely exposed to one another since the afternoon before. 

“Compared to this man, Lin Baixin is insignificant. If he’s satisfied, if he wants to see you again—even just one more time—all of Hollywood will be at your feet. You’ll be free to choose any role you like,” she said bluntly.  

Her forthrightness left the younger actresses uneasy. Wan Qiwen exchanged a glance with Yang Gongru before hesitantly asking, “Sister Rosa, who do you think he liked the most?” 

“How would I know? But judging by the number of times—Li and Qiu had three each. You and I had two, and Christy had one. Maybe it’s based on that.” 

Knock, knock. 

A sudden knock at the door startled them, and all three women turned toward the sound. 

At the door stood a stoic woman, about thirty years old, dressed in a maid’s uniform. She spoke in English, “I’m Xiao Li Liu, the gentleman’s personal maid. Here are some pills I need you ladies to take in front of me.” 

The three women exchanged confused looks. Guan Jiahui finally broke the silence. “Pills? What kind of pills?” 

“Pills to ensure peace of mind—birth control pills,” the maid replied. 

With a clap of her hands, another maid stepped forward carrying a tray with three pills and three glasses of water. 

Yang Gongru opened her mouth in disbelief, her large, beautiful eyes wide. Wan Qiwen looked equally stunned, while Guan Jiahui smirked. “How thoughtful. Worried we might get pregnant? Makes sense, though, considering the volume. He’s clearly very potent. I happen to be ovulating, so this is probably a good idea.” 

Her tone betrayed a hint of reluctance. Guan Jiahui had entertained certain plans of her own, but with this level of precaution, she decided to comply.  

Being able to navigate among wealthy men required tact. At 36, her intelligence might not have been extraordinary, and her emotional intelligence was only average, but her experience and worldly knowledge were extensive. Having lived in the U.S. for years, she understood their mindset well. 

With confidence, she stepped forward, picked up a pill, and inspected it. “Not Mirena or Yasmin. What is this?” 

“An experimental drug developed by the Harvard University Biopharmaceutical Research Lab. It’s not yet mass-produced,” the maid explained. “Because my employer is a Harvard trustee, he can obtain it. Otherwise, each pill would cost tens of thousands of dollars.” 

Guan Jiahui’s lips twitched in amusement. “Well, let’s see what a pill worth hundreds of thousands of Hong Kong dollars feels like.” 

She swallowed the pill and washed it down with water. Placing the glass back on the tray, the maid spoke again. “Miss Guan, please open your mouth. I need to confirm you didn’t hide the pill.” 

Guan Jiahui froze, anger flashing across her face, but the maid quickly added, “Apologies, but it’s my duty.” 

Though furious, Guan Jiahui reluctantly opened her mouth, allowing the maid to inspect. 

“Thank you,” the maid said after a thorough check. “Next.” 

Wan Qiwen sighed and stepped forward to comply.  

December 10, 1997. 

Hong Kong woke to a piece of shocking news.  

[Chairman of the Board of Directors of Lai Sun Group, Lin Baixin, held a press conference at noon today to announce the sale of 89.5% of his shares in Asia Television Group to the American Paladin Media Group for $60 million.] 

[This marks the second instance of a foreign consortium holding shares in a Hong Kong television station, following the Australian consortium's acquisition of a 30% stake in the former Rediffusion Television. This signifies...] 

[...] 

Over the years, despite multiple changes—whether it was Rediffusion Television, later Asia Television (ATV), Gold Channel, Home Channel, or International Channel—none could surpass TVB, the leading local broadcaster in Hong Kong. 

Still, even a sinking ship has some residual value. After all, ATV had been a part of many Hong Kong residents' lives. 

Yet, in recent years, ATV’s viewership ratings have repeatedly been overshadowed by TVB in every possible way. 

Then suddenly, news broke that Lin Baixin had sold ATV to a foreign entity.  

For many Hong Kongers, the announcement came as a shock and was hard to accept. 

However, upon learning that the buyer was Paladin Media Group, the world's leading media conglomerate, owned by Milo Blackburn, the protector of global media and the world’s richest man, opinions started to shift. 

Adding to the buzz, news emerged that Milo Blackburn himself was visiting Hong Kong—a revelation that quickly overshadowed the initial shock of ATV’s sale. 

Local media, including TVB, ATV, and many Hong Kong newspapers, seemed to act in concert. Previously silent on the topic, they suddenly flooded the news cycle with stories about Milo Blackburn following the acquisition announcement. 

Over the next few days, over 70% of Hong Kong’s media coverage focused on the world’s richest man’s visit to the city. 

“This is an example of what I call the ‘psychology of an abandoned child of the civilized world.’” 

December 12th. 

According to his itinerary, Milo should have already left Hong Kong after attending the IPO roadshow for Yahoo's listing. His next stops were supposed to be the Middle East, followed by Paris and London. 

However, Milo had stayed in Hong Kong for five days now. At this moment, he was in the office of John Reginald Hartnell Bond, the CEO—or “Taipan” as locals would call him—of HSBC’s Hong Kong headquarters. 

In 1997, though Hong Kong had already been returned to China, HSBC, effectively the city’s central bank, was still controlled by the British. John Reginald Hartnell Bond was its current Taipan, regarded as Hong Kong’s unofficial ruler, wielding significant influence over local policies. 

Milo’s presence at HSBC was due to strong recommendations from the bank and Bond himself. Several local financial institutions, including the Hong Kong Monetary Authority, Hong Kong Central Clearing Company, HSBC, Standard Chartered, Bank of China (Hong Kong), and various local capital giants, had recently formed a new entity named Hong Kong Investment Corporation. 

Led by HSBC and the Bank of China, this group aimed to participate in Yahoo’s IPO. Following Milo’s agreement to shift the second Asian stop of Yahoo’s IPO roadshow from Singapore to Hong Kong, local stakeholders were eager to support the initiative. 

The plan was to allocate $20 billion to purchase shares in Yahoo’s IPO. Initially, the Hong Kong Investment Corporation planned to invest $10 billion, but HSBC's insistence had doubled the figure. 

“Hong Kong used to be under British rule. Because of that, some Hong Kongers feel they are part of the Western civilized world.” 

“But now that they’ve returned to their motherland and left British governance behind, these individuals subconsciously feel they’ve been pulled back into reality.” 

“This sense of loss has triggered a nationwide sentiment of uncertainty. The previous waves of emigration were also tied to this collective mood.” 

John Reginald Bond looked at Milo with admiration. After Milo finished speaking, the HSBC Taipan responded, “You have remarkable insight. Even for minor matters in a small place like Hong Kong, your understanding runs deep. No wonder you sit atop the world’s wealth.” 

Milo shrugged. He couldn’t deny that he had a personal attachment to Hong Kong. Additionally, as the U.S. increasingly focused on China, think tanks and research firms were conducting extensive studies on the region. 

The Blackburn Foundation, under Milo’s leadership, had also joined these efforts. His observations were merely the conclusions drawn from the foundation’s studies on Hong Kong and mainland China. 

“Let’s not dwell on these issues. Hong Kongers’ mindsets are something they and their motherland will have to reconcile themselves.” 

“Let’s talk about our business.” 

“John, I know HSBC has always wanted to enter the U.S. market. But with America’s highly developed banking sector, you’ll need to fully embrace U.S. capital to succeed.” 

HSBC Hong Kong, officially named The Hongkong and Shanghai Banking Corporation Limited, was similar to Standard Chartered Bank in its origins—both grew large through colonial privileges and exploiting local resources. 

However, the British Empire had long since declined, and HSBC could no longer rely on past privileges. Likely realizing this decades ago, HSBC had started investing its semi-monopolistic profits from Hong Kong into expansion efforts worldwide. 

Among its global ambitions, North America had been the crown jewel HSBC sought most.  

During the 1970s, HSBC made significant investments to establish a foothold in the U.S. But the results? A series of painful failures, leaving the bank bleeding financially and fined heavily by American regulators. 

Today, HSBC had only managed to secure a presence in areas with significant Chinese populations, such as New York, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. 

Ironically, this British-managed bank, built on profits from Hong Kong, had been left to rely on Chinese-American communities in the U.S. to sustain its operations. Most of them are still immigrants from Hong Kong or Guangdong Province... 

This time, Milo’s visit to Hong Kong has likely sparked some thoughts at HSBC. 

Taking advantage of Milo's visit to the HSBC headquarters today,  

John Reginald, on behalf of HSBC, proposed the idea of collaborating with Blackburn Bank in North America. 

That’s why Milo said what he just said. 

He is now staring at John Reginald, a faint and enigmatic smile on his face. "To put it simply, if you truly want to do business with Americans, then you must become Americans. At the very least, part of you must be American. Do you understand what I mean?" 

(End of chapter) 

*Chapter 275: Sentimental Dolls*

To Americans, HSBC Bank is nothing more than an easy target.

In fact, the U.S. market sees all foreign banks as easy prey.

American banks are already fighting tooth and nail among themselves.

What is Wall Street made of?

There's barely enough room for their own to thrive—how could outsiders expect to join in?

Generally, there are only two outcomes for foreign banks attempting to enter the U.S. market.

One is to end up like HSBC: continuously fined and treated like a scapegoat.

The other is to become "Americanized"—at least the capital that enters the U.S. has to essentially transform into American capital.

Of course, there’s also a third fate.

This is the fate of most foreign banks attempting to enter the U.S. market: they remain insignificant, opening a few branches in major cities merely to establish a symbolic presence.

After being thoroughly penalized in the 1980s, HSBC adopted this low-profile approach in the U.S. market.

But now, they clearly aren't satisfied with such a lack of influence.

After Hong Kong’s return to its motherland, HSBC began to worry about its future.

Once again, they’re trying to hedge their bets and make a stronger push into the U.S. market.

In this alternate timeline, HSBC’s attempt to enter the U.S. market ends just as it did in the 1980s:

They are hit with countless fines and subjected to America’s overreaching jurisdiction, leaving them on the brink of despair.

At America’s command, they are forced to disclose the confidential accounts of many important clients.

In the end, the losses are immense, and major enterprises in China lose trust in HSBC entirely.

Perhaps seeing Milo in Hong Kong, HSBC deliberately tries to curry favor.

They increase the subscription share of the Hong Kong Investment Group—comprised of various Hong Kong factions—for Yahoo’s IPO from $1 billion to $2 billion.

You could say they are spending other people’s money to win Milo’s goodwill.

However, if they think this alone will get Milo to endorse them and help them enter the U.S. market, they are sorely mistaken.

Even if Milo were willing, Wall Street would never agree.

So, John Reginald is bound to be disappointed.

After touring HSBC’s headquarters and recording enough material for a TV segment under the guidance of an ATV reporter, Milo completely ignores Reginald’s attempts to make him stay and leaves HSBC without hesitation.

This was one of his objectives for the day: capturing some footage of his visit to Hong Kong for ATV to boost viewership, especially now that he owns the station.

To be honest, spending $60 million to buy ATV was a bit pricey.

Converted to Hong Kong dollars, that’s nearly HK$420 million.

The Lin family did invest HK$400 million into ATV over time, but its market share has declined even further.

Realistically, the station should have been worth about HK$400 million.

The extra HK$20 million was essentially a gesture of goodwill on Milo’s part because he found old Mr. Lin quite likable.

At his age, Mr. Lin personally stepped forward, swallowing his pride, which gave Milo quite a bit of satisfaction.

As they say, money can’t buy happiness, and the extra HK$20 million was Milo’s way of showing appreciation.

For instance, tonight Mr. Lin had prepared a few more surprises for him.

“Another drink?”

Milo held up the bottle, watching the elegant woman across from him down her glass of whiskey in one go.

She exhaled deeply, her cheeks flushed red from the alcohol. With a loud clink, she placed the glass on the coffee table. “Pour it!”

Milo obligingly poured her another half glass. Before the bottle left the rim of the glass, she grabbed it and downed it again in one swift motion.

This time, the whiskey went down too fast and caught in her throat, causing her to cough violently. She bent over, tears welling up in her eyes.

Milo instinctively reached out to pat her back, but she swatted his hand away.

He shrugged and let her recover on her own.

“Pour me another.”

After finally calming down, she slammed the glass onto the table again, exuding an air of reckless abandon.

“If you keep drinking, you’ll get drunk, Miss Zhu,” Milo said with a calm smile.

“So what? Getting drunk would be perfect,” Zhu Ying said dismissively, waving her hand before letting out a slightly hysterical chuckle. “If I’m drunk, I won’t have to think about anything.”

“But I don’t like it,” Milo replied in an even tone.

Zhu Ying froze for a moment before laughing again, this time with a hint of self-mockery. She tossed the glass aside, stood up, and spread her arms. “Fine, do what you want.”

Milo, however, remained composed. He simply gestured toward a nearby chair where a set of clothes was laid out.

It was something he had specially arranged.

“What a peculiar fetish…”

Zhu Ying scoffed, having seen the outfit earlier when Milo’s servant brought it in. She knew exactly what it was.

“I think you’ll look stunning in it—irresistibly so. That’s why I had it brought here,” Milo said, gesturing again. “Now, hurry up.”

His tone was commanding, even curt.

Zhu Ying’s already flushed face deepened in color as she glared at him with apparent irritation.

But she said nothing more.

Swaying slightly, she walked to the chair, turned to face Milo, and began removing her clothes piece by piece.

First her blouse, then her skirt.

Finally, she removed her stockings, all while swaying her hips as if performing a striptease.

Though truth be told, her movements were far from graceful.

And frankly, her figure was average at best.

At last, Zhu Ying stood in just her lingerie—a lacy white set.

She then began putting on the prepared outfit.

First came the hanfu-inspired dress, followed by a short skirt, a blouse, ribbons, stockings, and a veil. Lastly, she tied her hair up, transforming herself into a lovely version of the “Purple Fairy.”

“Well, what are you waiting for now?” she asked, arms crossed and reeking of alcohol, her eyes half-lidded with drunkenness.

Milo immediately stood up, took a few steps to stand in front of her, and pinched her chin to observe her carefully.

"I have to say it again: you wealthy people have such peculiar tastes. And you’re even stranger. You're clearly a foreigner—why would you be interested in this traditional Chinese style of dressing?" Zhu Ying raised her hands mockingly in front of him with a faint smirk.

After leaving the HSBC headquarters at noon,

Old Lin had sent her over.

After a brief conversation with her, Milo found her attitude somewhat intriguing.

She maintained a consistently cold expression, appearing indifferent.

Even when she forced a smile, it was obviously strained.

Whether drinking tea or having dinner, she seemed to approach everything with a sense of obligation.

When it came to physical contact, her body reflexively resisted.

The reason seemed to be her current boyfriend.

Her boyfriend was someone she'd reconciled with two years ago after their breakup.

It was Zhou Xingxing, the same person Milo had chatted with at a party.

This surprised Milo—hadn't they broken up in 1995?

How were they back together now?

Was it a butterfly effect?

Or had they just kept it hidden so well that the media mistakenly thought they’d broken up?

She genuinely seemed to treasure the relationship but was forced into doing these things.

Clearly, Old Lin must have used some shady means.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t be so resistant. Milo didn’t even know what to say.

Did Old Lin not understand that it’s no fun if a woman isn’t willing to cooperate?

Fortunately, alcohol is a wonderful thing.

Many things that are difficult under normal circumstances become possible after using it to numb oneself.

Although Zhu Ying still displayed resistance, it didn’t matter.

He could indulge in a little roleplay involving coercion.

Forcing "Zixia Fairy" and then forcing "Huang Rong"...

Especially the latter—this was practically the eternal martial arts fantasy storyline of online forums.

It was all just for fun; he never planned to “collect” anyone. Amidst others’ compliance, having someone with resistance added a new layer to the dynamic.

After playing with Huang Rong and Zixia Fairy, how could he possibly let go of Yang Guo’s aunt, Li Ruotong?

“Is… is that so, Mr. Blackburn?”

When the door opened and a woman dressed in white traditional attire walked out, Milo’s eyes lit up.

“Yes, Miss Li, that’s exactly right,” he said, clapping his hands in delight. “You’re truly the most fitting embodiment of Xiaolongnu, even Mr. Cha agrees.”

The woman in ancient attire standing before Milo was none other than Li Ruotong, who played Xiaolongnu in the 1996 adaptation of The Return of the Condor Heroes.

Since TVB had remade the Condor Trilogy and he’d already been with the female leads of the first and third installments, why should the second be an exception?

Although Sheren Tang hadn’t yet played Zhou Zhiruo...

“Well, the amount you promised…” Li Ruotong lowered her gaze, avoiding his eyes, and twisted her hands together nervously, lacking the cold serenity expected of Xiaolongnu.

But that didn’t matter.

Milo knew he was simply indulging in roleplay.

“No problem, I’ll add $50,000... no, $100,000 more,” Milo said directly. Since unconventional means had been used to bring them here, there was no need for pretense.

“All... all right.” Li Ruotong finally lifted her head. Although she tried her best to appear calm, her brows still betrayed traces of humiliation.

It could be said that Old Lin’s arrangements had unlocked Milo’s nostalgic fantasies.

With Old Lin organizing, ATV cooperating, and the likes of Run Run Shaw and Zou Wenhuai lending support, even a group of tycoons tacitly approved.

After that night with over twenty Hong Kong actresses, Milo hadn’t had a single idle day.

In just a few days, he achieved an astonishing feat: he had almost “collected” every female lead from Hong Kong’s golden era of cinema and TV dramas he had memories of in his previous life.

From Qiu, Guan, Li, and Wan to Zhu, Li, and others.

Originally planning to stay in Hong Kong for three days, Milo ended up staying for nearly half a month.

If it weren’t for obligations in the Middle East, where his presence was needed to attract sheikhs, princes, and royals, he wouldn’t have wanted to leave so soon—he hadn’t had enough fun yet.

After finishing with Hong Kong, he turned his gaze to Taiwan.

After a brief glance at Taiwan, his attention shifted to the mainland.

The coming decades were the very period of his previous life when he began accumulating nostalgic fantasies.

Huang Rong, Zixia Fairy, Xiaolongnu, Zhao Min, and Zhou Zhiruo were certainly fun and essential.

But weren’t the Qiong Yao female leads in Taiwan just as enjoyable?

And the rising “70s Flowers” and budding “80s Flowers” in the mainland?

He truly wanted to stay a while longer.

But it wasn’t possible; he’d have to return next year.

Before leaving, he even had a fling with Lizhi, who had just confirmed her relationship with the “cripple.”

And thus, Milo’s Hong Kong trip came to an end.

He’d done everything he wanted for now.

So now, there was only one thing left to do in Hong Kong.

“You’re saying… you want to keep me?”

On the balcony of the presidential suite at the Peninsula Hotel, Li Jiaxin held a cup of coffee, sitting in a chair under the afternoon sun. She stared blankly at Milo. After speaking, she turned to look at the others beside her.

“To be precise, you want to keep us?”

Beside her stood Chingmy Yau, Wan Qiwen, Liz Lee, and Zhu Ying.

They were summoned again today, originally thinking this foreigner wanted to play another role-playing game.

But no—he invited them for coffee.

Halfway through the coffee, he brought up his request.

"Don't put it so harshly," Milo said with a smile, waving his hand. After playing a round, he glanced at the emotional "dolls" he found most satisfactory and wanted to keep. "This is just a contract—a type of insurance contract. It ensures your future income and benefits while also protecting my rights."

"Of course, if you think the term 'BY' fits better," he continued, "then I don't mind calling it a BY contract either."

Then he gestured toward two women in black suits standing nearby. They exuded a sense of competence and sharpness.

"These two are Ms. Luo Jin Yun and Ms. Luo Pei Fang from the Hong Kong law firm Luo Wen Jin & Associates. For any unclear terms in the contract, you can consult them. I'll give you thirty minutes. After that, I'll come back."

"By then, please let me know whether or not you decide to sign."

"As for the benefits, you can ask my personal maid, Miss Shirley Liu."

Milo then motioned toward another woman, Liu Li, standing off to the side.

"That's it for now. There are others waiting for me outside, so I need to step out for a bit."

With that, he left the living room of the legendary top-floor suite at the Peninsula Hotel, a place reportedly reserved for visits by foreign heads of state.

Left in the room were five women, two female lawyers, and two maids accompanying Liu Li.

Almost immediately, Lee Ka Shing picked up one of the insurance contracts from the table to examine it.

The contract was thoughtfully written in both Chinese and English.

After Lee Ka Shing’s action, the other four women exchanged glances. However, none of them picked up the documents, as if to silently refuse to sign or be "BY'd."

Suddenly, Lee Ka Shing let out a sharp scream. She seemed startled by something in the document and quickly looked up at the two lawyers from Luo Wen Jin & Associates.

"Excuse me, is the clause in Article 13, Section 1 accurate? A monthly allowance of one million U.S. dollars? Seven and a half million Hong Kong dollars?"

The slightly older female lawyer from Luo Wen Jin & Associates smiled and nodded.

"Every clause in the contract complies fully with Hong Kong, U.S., and most international legal standards. So as long as it’s written in the agreement, it’s real. If any of you ladies have questions, feel free to ask us for clarification."

"Then I’ll sign it!"

To everyone’s surprise, Lee Ka Shing decisively announced her decision.

---

(End of Chapter)