Chapter 281: Fanning the Flames of Goodwill, Facing Hardship Together
That evening, Yang Wendong returned home.
His son, Yang Zhiwen, now able to walk, toddled over and called out, "Daddy~~"
"Good boy~" Yang smiled, kissing the child's cheek as he playfully teased him. This was, after all, one of the most adorable stages in a child's life—provided, of course, there was someone around to clean up after all the mischief.
"You're back," Su Yiyi said, carrying a tray of food. "Yushan cooked tonight. You're in for a treat."
"Really? That's great," Yang chuckled and took his son over to the table, picking out a few simple dishes for him to eat.
Soon, the entire Yang family gathered, and dinner officially began.
As they ate, Yang shared updates on the latest developments. Generally, unless something was top secret, he didn't hide business matters from his family—especially when it involved news that was about to be publicized and widely reported.
"That's really a major public project," said Bai Yushan. "The water shortage is getting worse. Even the swimming pools at HKU have closed, and we're only allowed a few minutes to shower now. My dad's renovation company has had to stop work regularly because some clients don't have stable running water."
"That's just the impact on commerce," Yang added. "The ones suffering most are ordinary people—especially those in Kowloon. They never had a water supply to begin with. Most relied on wells or had to haul water from ponds. Now, those sources are gone. Even finding clean water has become difficult."
The Hong Kong drought stretched from mid-1963 to mid-1964. But when people referred to the crisis, they were mostly talking about its impact on middle-class residents of Hong Kong Island—not the true underprivileged.
The media only took notice once the middle and upper-middle class began to feel the pain. That's when the colonial government finally came under serious pressure.
But in reality, the poorest areas had already been suffering long before that. They just didn't have the voice or the platform to make their situation known.
Even Yang had only learned the extent of it when Oriental Daily launched a full-scale investigative reporting project. Only then did these scattered, desperate voices start appearing on his desk.
Sometimes, Yang genuinely missed TikTok from his past life. As flawed as it was, it gave a voice to the voiceless and brought attention to otherwise invisible struggles.
"If we were still living in the squatter settlements," Su Yiyi added, "life would probably be unbearable right now."
"That's exactly why I pushed for the water storage stations," Yang explained. "Even if the government buys water, they'll prioritize industry, commerce, and real estate—especially on the Island and in central Kowloon.
Someone has to help the people in between. So I'll handle that part."
From the colonial government's perspective, it made sense to prioritize economic stability and social order.
As long as people weren't dying en masse, the suffering of the poor wasn't high on their list.
"Well, with multiple water stations being built," Su Yiyi said optimistically, "and your ships bringing in water from the mainland, things should be manageable."
"Hopefully," Yang nodded. "But my power is still limited. The best long-term solution would be for the mainland to construct a large canal and transport water directly from deep inland to Hong Kong."
Everything he and the government were doing—whether through his own efforts or through expensive water purchases—could only temporarily ease the crisis.
To solve it fundamentally, Hong Kong needed a dedicated water supply. The real issue was trying to build a massive modern city in a place that wasn't naturally suited for it. That would always lead to logistical nightmares.
Bai Yushan said angrily, "I've heard a bit about this. Apparently, the mainland already proposed such a project, but the colonial government rejected it. Clearly, they don't care about the lower class."
"That's the British colonial system for you," Yang shrugged. "But we don't need to dwell on it. Let's just focus on doing our part. There are things we can't change—and trying to might only hurt us."
Yang rarely involved himself in politics, especially because he already knew how the future would unfold. There were things no amount of effort could change, and getting too involved might only bring disaster.
It was far better to take a pragmatic approach and focus his resources on areas where he could make a meaningful difference.
The next day — Hong Wah Daily Headquarters:
Senior executives from Oriental Daily and Hong Wah Daily had gathered in the conference room.
Standing at the podium, Qin Zhiye addressed the group, "Colleagues, the water storage station project Mr. Yang initiated is an incredibly significant one. It's not just important for our newspapers, but for Mr. Yang, the government, and most importantly, the thousands of people suffering from the water shortage.
Our task is to spread this story across all of Hong Kong — to let everyone know about Mr. Yang's tremendous act of generosity. We also need to make sure the people living near these new stations are aware and can benefit."
A low murmur of discussion spread through the room. Qin let it continue.
Eventually, Ye Baitao, the marketing director, spoke up. "Mr. Qin, this is truly a good deed, and we'll do our best to get the message out."
"Excellent," Qin nodded. "Go speak with the Changxing Charity Foundation. They'll provide all the project details.
How we write the story, though — that's up to our editorial skills. Their team has done the work; now it's our job to do the reporting justice."
"Understood," several people responded.
Then Ye Baitao raised another concern. "Mr. Qin, we can handle the articles and interviews. But many of the families who need this most don't read newspapers — they can't afford them. And those are exactly the people most affected. Getting the message to them might be difficult."
"That's already been considered," Qin replied. "Mr. Yang has approved the use of foundation funds to launch a verbal outreach campaign in densely populated, low-literacy areas.
The people delivering the messages will be hired locally — that way, they'll know the terrain, and it'll help inject money into these poor communities, especially into households with children."
"Hiring children as messengers? That's brilliant," Ye Baitao said, eyes lighting up.
Hiring adults for this kind of untraceable, low-accountability task could easily result in laziness or fraud. Children, on the other hand, were more reliable in some ways. And more importantly, it was a way to give poor families a bit of extra income.
Qin added, "Remember, this isn't just another job. For the foreseeable future, we'll be running follow-up stories on this effort. Please be ready."
"Yes, sir!" came the unanimous response. Everyone looked pleased. It felt good to work on something that actually helped people.
Then Ye Baitao hesitated and asked, "Mr. Qin, this will definitely raise Mr. Yang's public profile. But considering our Chinese cultural norms — if we praise our own boss too directly in our own paper, might it come across as too self-serving?"
Several others nodded. It was a fair point. Overhyping their own leader would indeed feel tone-deaf to many readers.
Qin chuckled. "We've already thought about that. Mr. Yang and I have discussed it. Our newspaper and radio channels will stick to factual reporting. No excessive praise.
As for commentary and recognition — we've asked Jin Yong of Ming Pao to cover that part. Once the stations are completed, Ming Pao will send reporters for interviews. Let Jin Yong write the public reflections."
"That's perfect," Ye Baitao said with a satisfied nod.
Jin Yong was widely respected across Hong Kong. Even his non-fiction writing carried weight. If he penned something praising Yang Wendong, it would be well-received — not seen as propaganda.
Having Jin Yong take the lead on the write-up was, without doubt, the best choice.
May 30th
Oriental Daily released a front-page headline: "Nature Is Ruthless, But Humanity Is Full of Love."
Beneath the title was a striking image: a boy, no older than five or six, gazing intently at a chipped ceramic bowl in his hands. A small ripple of water shimmered within. His hopeful expression said it all — this child was suffering from a severe lack of water.
Kwun Tong, Hong Ning Road, beside a newsstand
A middle-aged woman approached. "Boss, one copy of the South China Morning Post, English version."
"Sure thing," the vendor replied cheerfully. "One dollar."
"It went up? Wasn't it eighty cents just a few days ago?" she asked, frowning.
The vendor smiled. "Miss, haven't Hong Kong property prices doubled or tripled in the past few years? Wages have also gone up, haven't they? My newspaper price only increased by 30%. That's not unreasonable, is it?"
The woman hesitated. She couldn't argue — he had a point. Still, to her, even that felt expensive.
"If you're looking for something more affordable," the vendor continued, "why not try a local Chinese paper? Cheaper, good quality, and the content's just as rich. Take this issue of Oriental Daily, for example. Only thirty cents — packed with local and international news. Want to give it a try?"
"I've heard of Oriental Daily," she said, glancing at the paper in his hand.
"Nature Is Ruthless, But Humanity Is Full of Love"?
That headline immediately caught her eye.
"I'll take it," she said. At thirty cents, it wasn't much for a salaried office worker.
"Great choice," the vendor said as he handed it over. "The stories in this one are powerful. I promise — after reading it, you'll feel something."
"Really?" She was skeptical but intrigued.
Stepping to the side, she stood under a patch of shade, letting the sea breeze cool her as she opened the paper.
On the second page was the drought report:
"Reporter Yang Liren reports: After months without rain, water levels in Hong Kong's reservoirs have dropped dangerously low. The region is facing an extreme water crisis.
Fields lie barren. The land is cracked. Ponds have dried up. Reservoirs, once filled with life, are now choked with weeds. In parts of Kowloon, residents have dug deep into the ground searching for water, only to find mud."
Photos accompanied the text — images of crowds around dry wells, of cracked earth, of empty basins.
It felt real. Tangible.
"I didn't realize the drought was this serious," the woman murmured, shaken.
On Hong Kong Island, she had already experienced slower water flow in her home. It was annoying — laundry and showers took longer — but that was it. She had no idea that, just across the harbor, people were on the verge of going thirsty.
As she kept reading, the article detailed the partnership between the Changxing Charity Foundation and the colonial government. Together, they were building ten water storage stations across Kowloon to provide emergency water to affected communities.
The article explained that the water stations would be completed within two months and would distribute clean water to locals under certain conditions, prioritizing the most vulnerable.
"Changxing Charity Foundation…" The woman's mind flashed back to her own childhood in the squatter settlements.
If her father hadn't managed to pull the family out, she might still be living there today.
"I should make a donation," she thought suddenly. At the end of the article, the paper listed the foundation's bank account number.
Anyone interested in supporting the cause could donate through the bank. If they wanted their contribution to go toward a specific effort, they'd have to visit a Changxing office in person.
She glanced over the rest of the paper — not urgently — then hailed a taxi toward Central.
Meanwhile, in a modest office building in Central...
Jin Yong put down the newspaper after finishing the article and said, "Mr. Yang truly is something else. This initiative alone could help hundreds of thousands of people struggling with the drought."
Beside him, Shen Baoxin nodded. "It's a great solution — but without enough money and the right connections, it would be impossible to pull off.
How many people in all of Hong Kong could spend millions buying land, building water reservoirs, installing pipelines, and negotiating with the government?
Then you need the ships to bring in water — because building it all means nothing if the water doesn't arrive. And then you need staff to manage the sites, plus a full-blown media campaign to make sure people know where to go."
"Exactly," Jin Yong agreed. "You can't just dream your way to a big project. It takes real resources."
Shen added, "That said, a good pen still matters. If you hadn't risked your neck covering the refugee issue, the government would've kept pretending it wasn't happening."
"That's only because I'd built up enough credibility," Jin Yong replied. "If I hadn't, the government could've shut down Ming Pao in a heartbeat."
Earlier this year, the number of refugees entering Hong Kong had surged. The colonial government's initial approach was to ignore the problem — so long as the refugees stayed out of the city's wealthy areas. They sent troops to block the influx at Tai Mo Shan, leaving people to suffer without food or water.
Most local media outlets didn't cover the story. Only Jin Yong dared to publish front-page exposés. Eventually, public pressure forced the government to provide basic aid.
Shen chuckled. "Now Yang Wendong is making use of your fame. He wants you to write a 'canonizing' article about him."
"If he really does help hundreds of thousands of people," Jin Yong said firmly, "I'd do it for free. And let's not forget — during the refugee crisis, even though he never made public statements, he sent multiple truckloads of food based on the reports I published."
The two had worked in silent coordination. Jin Yong had raised awareness. Yang had responded behind the scenes. And they'd both kept it low-profile.
Shen nodded. "It's clear Yang Wendong genuinely wants to help the poor — in both Hong Kong and the mainland. His business is just too big. If he puts himself at the front of every issue, it becomes political. It'd have too many ripple effects, so he has to help in secret."
"That's my thinking too," Jin Yong agreed. "But this time, he's out in the open. Supporting drought relief isn't controversial. It's something anyone would praise. So he stepped forward."
"Well, it works out perfectly," Shen said. "There's no better moment."
"Then let's give it a push," Jin Yong said. "I'll write a feature article — explain everything clearly, highlight the impact, and call on the public to donate. That's what matters most."
Shen nodded. "Exactly. Yang Wendong may be rich, but this drought isn't going away anytime soon. He can't do it alone. Public donations are the best solution.
If we don't resolve this crisis, the whole of Hong Kong will suffer. Water shortages will cripple power generation and industrial production. Everything will fall apart."
"I'll make sure people understand that in the piece," Jin Yong promised. "Most don't realize how vital fresh water is to the economy, not just to daily life."
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