Governor's House, Banquet Hall.
The light from the crystal chandeliers poured down, reflecting the wine glasses clinking in the hands of the guests. Schmucker of Jardine Matheson, Stephen Simpson of HSBC, and James Madden of Wheelock... these people who control the economic pulse of Hong Kong Island with their breathing are gathered here tonight.
MacLehose, champagne glass in hand, chatted casually with the bosses. The conversation inadvertently turned to the recent hot topic of the Asia Times, and its mysterious Japanese owner, Kobayashi Tenmo.
There was a scrutiny in MacLehose's deep blue eyes, and an elusive curve at the corner of his mouth.
"...Oh? Mr. Kobayashi has declined all your kindness?" He gently shook the wine glass, and the golden wine spread fine lines on the wall of the glass.
"That's right, Your Excellency the Governor." Jardine Matheson's Newbigin shrugged with the indifferent arrogance typical of a British gentleman. "Mr. Kobayashi was very polite and expressed appreciation for the prospects of cooperation, but then he changed the subject and emphasized that Asia Daily and Dragon Jump are still in their infancy and have limited energy. They currently have 'no intention' to join any consortium alliance or accept external investment." He curled his lips slightly and said the words "no intention at the moment" lightly, but the meaning was clear.
The melodious and soothing sound of the violin in the corner set the scene for the dinner hosted by Governor Murray MacLehose.
The guests were all the leaders of Hong Kong's British financial tycoons—Jardine Matheson's Newbiggin. A sneer escaped his nose. "You have quite the appetite. You won't give Mr. Stan Smith's respect, and you don't even look at HSBC's money? Do you really think you've grown so big that you can monopolize this pie?"
Swire representative Mark Schmidt raised his lips to a smooth smile, his gaze sharp as a knife. "It's a good thing for young people to be enterprising. But in Hong Kong Island, no matter how high a kite flies, it needs someone within sight to hold the string. He seems to have yet to find his place."
Governor Murray MacLehose listened quietly, and the smile on his face deepened.
The crowd's reaction confirmed his judgment. This wasn't a simple refusal; it was a weighing of the pros and cons.
This young man, who had emerged from Japan, had a much bigger appetite than expected. He was waiting for a higher price, or perhaps waiting to see which side he could invest in for the greatest return.
"It seems Mr. Kobayashi wants to choose a chair closer to the front, the most comfortable position." Murray MacLehose glanced at the crowd. His voice was low, but it carried the composure of someone in control. "It's good to be ambitious, but if you move too fast, you'll easily fall."
He took a sip of the champagne, letting the cool liquid slide down his throat.
The day before yesterday, the Asia Times was published with great fanfare like a depth charge, and the article blasting Peter Ho was fierce; today, Jin Yong personally stepped in and openly poached Huang Yi, shocking the literary world... All this made MacLehose see clearly the danger of this man named Kobayashi Tianwang.
He is unconventional, aggressive, has a vague background, and unclear stance. Most importantly, he rose too fast!
It was happening at a pace that was beyond everyone's expectations and control. Dragon Jump, Asia Daily, and especially The King's Avatar, were building a center of influence at an astonishing pace, detached from the traditional British-funded framework.
"That young master of the Fok family," MacLehose said, changing the subject slightly, his tone tinged with undisguised contempt, "his recent behavior seems... to be unbecoming of the Fok family."
He did not point out the ridiculous incident in which Peter Ho and Kobayashi Tianwang were causing a stir in the city because of their jealousy, but everyone present was smart and knew the truth.
The tactics used by Ho Sin-ting seemed particularly clumsy and inappropriate after Kobayashi Tianwang's several effective counterattacks, and he became a laughing stock in Hong Kong.
This further lowered MacLehose's opinion of this Chinese-owned endorsement candidate. To mobilize so much energy over a romantic disappointment? Ultimately, his perspective was narrow.
"I heard that Mr. Kobayashi's Asia Daily dropped another bombshell on the literary world today? Even Louis Cha couldn't sit still."
HSBC's Chen Bi pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes revealing a businessman's shrewdness. "Huang Yi, the author of 'A Step into the Past,' has suddenly become the focus of the press. I just received a tip-off that Master Huo is teaming up with Jin Yong to poach Huang Yi. With all the fame and fortune, unless Huang Yi is a god, there's no reason he wouldn't be tempted."
HSBC's Shen Bi adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, and his sharp eyes swept over every face present behind the lenses - Newbigin of Jardine Matheson, Schmidt of Swire, Madden of Wheelock, as well as the heads of Standard Chartered, Hutchison Whampoa and Hutchison Whampoa.
The dazzling nightscape of Victoria Harbour streamed silently through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, cold yet magnificent. The rich aroma of cigars and the invisible power struggle intertwined in the air.
"But Mr. Kobayashi has rejected every olive branch we've extended." Madden slowly and gracefully cut into the steak on his plate, his tone condescending. "Whether it was investing in Asia Daily, acquiring a stake in Longteng Newspapers, or co-founding a publishing house, he politely rejected all proposals, citing the need to focus on existing businesses. It's like pushing the chips aside at the start of a poker game, not even bothering to examine the cards."
"Yes, Your Excellency," Newbigin interjected, his weathered face etched with a uniquely British mix of contempt and wariness. "Mr. Kobayashi was courteous, his words precise, and his vision for cooperation seemed... quite sincere. But ultimately, his stance was clear: right now, he wasn't prepared to come to the table."
MacLehose picked up the crystal glass, and the amber whiskey rippled gently in the glass.
He wore the proper smile of a ruler, but his blue eyes were as deep as the waters of Victoria Harbour. "Not coming to the table?" He took a sip of his wine, his voice deep and clear, reaching everyone's ears. "I don't think so. He wants to wait until the stakes are high enough for him to take the main seat before discussing joining the game."
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