If it were me calling you today to borrow hundreds of millions.
Would you take it out without saying anything?"
These words were like a bucket of ice water.
It poured directly on Newbigin's head.
It left him speechless for a moment.
On the other end of the phone.
More than one person.
He could imagine the faces of those people when they received the call. Contempt. Ridicule. Watching the show. Capitalism is ruthless.
The ups and downs of business.
He understands this principle best.
But when the rejected person becomes himself.
That huge feeling of humiliation and powerlessness.
Almost swallowed him.
He took a deep breath.
Suppress the anger that almost rises to your throat.
Lowered his posture.
Almost pleading.
There was a hint of weakness in that voice that even he himself hated.
"I owe you one, John. Help me.
Jardine Matheson needs money.
Need to get through tomorrow's difficulties.
I have great assets!
Landmark Tower!
The land of Wharf Holdings in Tsim Sha Tsui!
Or...or shares of Hutchison Whampoa!
I can use them as collateral!
Very good mortgage!
Interest...We can talk about interest!
Above market price!
Help me this time!"
"No way." The other party's refusal was firm.
"Newbigin.
Look at the situation clearly.
Jardine Matheson is now a bottomless pit.
More importantly.
All of us…”
The other party paused.
There was a coldness in his voice, a sense of grief for the loss of a rabbit.
“All British-owned companies.
Who has extra money left in Hong Kong Island?
Everyone is retreating!
We are just like you.
Everyone is trying to find ways to transfer assets.
Get away from this damn place where the world could change at any moment!
Everyone should conserve ammunition.
Use in the rear where it is safest.
Instead of filling this hole that may be taken back by the mainland at any time!
You want help?
Go to the bank! Go to HSBC! Don't disturb everyone's sweet dreams! Sorry! "Click!
The other party hung up the phone heavily.
The busy tone kept beeping.
It was particularly jarring in the silent office.
Exceptionally loud.
"Shit!" Newbijian said to the hung up phone.
Cursing uncontrollably.
That face full of fatigue and anger.
It looked somewhat hideous under the pale light.
Like a trapped beast with nowhere to go.
He waved his hands violently.
I wanted to sweep the phone off the table.
Raise your arms halfway.
Then he let it go dejectedly.
A great feeling of fatigue and coldness seized him.
Spreading from the heart to every part of the body.
He felt his body cooling down little by little.
Sinking a little bit.
Capital never sleeps.
But it only wakes up when chasing profits.
When a wall falls, everyone pushes it.
A wise instruction from the ancient times.
He did it in the most tragic way.
Experienced it all over again.
No one offered a helping hand.
Not even a hint of sympathy. Not at all. Snap!
He felt as if all his bones had been sucked out.
He fell heavily back into the large leather seat.
The huge chair carried his heavy body.
It made a creaking sound as if it was overwhelmed.
The person who was roaring angrily just now.
At this moment, only the weakness of an empty shell remains.
Sweat soaked his expensive silk shirt.
A few strands of gray hair on his forehead stuck wetly to his skin.
He closed his eyes.
Trying to suppress the inexplicable sourness in my eyes.
Despair is like a cold vine.
Wrapped around the heart.
It was getting tighter and tighter. Outside the window, the sky had changed from grayish white to a deeper fish belly white.
The morning star hangs alone in a corner of the sky.
Time is running out. Open the market. It's the execution ground.
His eyes swept over the expensive mahogany furniture and exquisite works of art in the office.
These were the prestige that Jardines had accumulated over a century and a half. But now, they had all become ridiculous decorations.
Unable to keep the core of Jardine Matheson - the Hong Kong Land Group.
Landmark... Landmark must not be lost!
He suddenly opened his bloodshot eyes.
His eyes fell on the independent red internal telephone on the corner of the table.
The last straw.
The only hope.
He stretched out his hand.
His fingers trembled slightly.
Dial that number.
A call from the person who truly controls the economic lifeline of Hong Kong Island.
HSBC Bank VIP.
Peter Sandberg.
The phone rang once before being picked up.
It seemed as if the person on the other end had been waiting for a long time.
"Peter." Newbigin's voice was already very hoarse.
He cleared his throat.
But it only brought on a dry cough. "It's me. Newbigin." He paused.
Trying to regain some of the aura that a large class should have.
But in front of Shen Bi.
This momentum seems so pretentious.
"Sir Newbigin." Shen Bi's voice was as steady as water.
No emotion could be heard. "At this time... it seems things are more difficult than I expected."
Newbijian's Adam's apple rolled.
Swallowing hard.
A chill ran down my back.
Shen Bi is too sharp.
He could only get straight to the point.
His tone was more sincere and earnest than ever before. "Peter.
I...I need your help. No. It's Jardine Matheson.
I need your help.”
He stated as calmly as possible:
“The market opens tomorrow.
The Hong Kong Land Group will face an unprecedented storm.
There are rumors everywhere in the market.
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