Hong Kong Movie: At the beginning, Big Boss B asked me to draw the death lottery

Chapter 207 The end of the foreigners in Hong Kong Island, only the Queen is missing as the final nail in their coffin!
Anderson's fingers flew across the keypad of the telephone in suite 2801 of the Grand Hyatt Hotel. His heart pounded with each beep, and the night view outside the window, as dazzling as stars, could not distract him in the slightest.

"Mr. He, this is Anderson, I'm here from Wall Street to communicate with you!"

The moment the call connected, he practically jumped out of his chair: "I've arrived in Hong Kong Island and hope to meet you as soon as possible!"

A calm voice came from the other end of the phone: "Mr. Anderson, welcome to Hong Kong Island. My driver will pick you up at the hotel back door in an hour!"

After hanging up the phone, Anderson quickly instructed his assistant to retrieve the pound sterling analysis report meticulously prepared by Soros's team.

The dense array of data and charts reveals the vulnerabilities of the British economy—insufficient foreign exchange reserves, high inflation, and rising unemployment.

Most importantly, Britain's stubborn insistence on keeping the pound at a high level has given international speculators an excellent opportunity to attack.

"Mr. Soros is right!"

Anderson muttered to himself, "The Bank of England, like this country, is like an old lion, seemingly majestic but actually quite vulnerable."

I'm just a little curious, when did Hong Kong develop such a powerful adversary, one even more eager than us to deliver a fatal blow to Britain!

An hour later, an inconspicuous black Toyota sedan pulled up at the back entrance of the Grand Hyatt Hotel.

Anderson cautiously looked around, and after confirming that no one was following him, he quickly got into the car.

Instead of heading towards Bijia Mountain, the car traveled eastward along the coastline and eventually stopped at a secluded private pier.

"Mr. He is waiting for you on the yacht."

After stopping the car, the driver gave a brief explanation.

When Anderson boarded the luxury yacht, Ho Yiu-chung was standing on the deck gazing at the dark sea, holding a glass of amber-colored whiskey in his hand.

“Mr. Anderson, you seem quite excited.”

Ho Yiu-chung turned around, a faint smile playing on his lips: "I hope you don't mind us doing business in this 'floating office.' Lately, the Governor's Office has been paying too much attention to my whereabouts."

The yacht slowly sailed away from the dock, leaving a silvery white trail in the night.

Anderson noticed several security personnel dressed in black standing on the deck, the bulges at their waists suggesting the presence of weapons.

"Mr. He, Mr. Soros is very interested in your proposal!"

Anderson got straight to the point: "But we need to confirm the reliability of the funds and the operational details."

He Yaozong chuckled and took out a folded piece of paper from his suit pocket, handing it to Anderson.

"I know that when negotiating with you Wall Street people, a good deal of money is worth more than a thousand words."

A Swiss bank draft, worth $5 million, has been deposited into your designated account; this is merely a deposit!

Anderson took the paper and examined it carefully under the deck lights, his pupils slightly contracting—the number of zeros after the numbers was dizzying.

Money may just be a number on Wall Street, but the numbers written in the checkbook are always so captivating.

"In addition, I have commissioned several offshore companies in London, New York and Singapore to ensure unimpeded access to funds."

Soros only needs to tell me how much money I need and when I need it, and the money will arrive on time.

The sea breeze suddenly became fierce, ruffling Anderson's hair.

He felt dizzy, not only because of the yacht's rocking, but also because of the astonishing wealth and determination displayed by the Eastern man in front of him.

"Mr. He, please forgive my bluntness..."

Anderson carefully chose his words: "Shorting a country's currency is extremely risky; if it fails..."

"If we fail, I will bear all the losses."

He Yaozong interrupted him, his voice as cold as steel: "The Soros team does not need to return the principal. As for the profits, we will split them 30/70, he gets 70% and I get 30%!"

This is the promise I made to him, and the gamble I'm taking on myself.

Anderson swallowed hard. He couldn't understand what He Yaozong meant by this. This was almost a charitable act of help!
"Mr. Soros would like to know why you chose the pound?"

The relationship between Hong Kong Island and the UK is well-known, but is it really worth it for you to do this?

"Because the pound sterling is the lifeblood of Britain."

He Yaozong walked to the railing and looked at the dark sea: "If I told you that I just wanted to prove a point, would you believe me?!"

The yacht's engine suddenly became low and deep, the hull tilted slightly, and it turned towards a more distant sea area.

He Yaozong turned around, the moonlight casting sharp shadows on his angular face.

"Anderson, tell Soros this is not an ordinary financial operation, but a war."

"I want more than just profits. You can easily get Soros to lower his guard completely; I just want Hong Kong to be a place where the British have no place to stand!"

Anderson's voice trembled slightly.

"I need to contact New York immediately!"

He Yaozong gestured for him to proceed: "There is an encrypted satellite phone on the yacht."

Remember, we only have ten days. The Wall Street Journal's exposé must be published before the Queen arrives in Hong Kong.

When Anderson dialed Soros's hotline, his palms were already sweaty.

On the other end of the phone, Soros remained silent for a full minute after hearing the report.

“Tell him the game has begun.”

Soros concluded with a rare hint of excitement in his voice: "The Bank of England will never know what hit them."

The Quantum Foundation headquarters in Manhattan, New York.

George Soros stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking Wall Street in the morning light. He had just hung up the phone with a Swiss bank manager, confirming that He Yaozong's second tranche of funds—$20 billion—had arrived.

"Oh, God!"

Soros muttered to himself, "This Hong Konger is even crazier than I imagined! What could possibly compel a nation to make such a decision, to drown the British in the last bay of the Far East?"

He turned and walked toward the conference room, where a dozen top analysts and traders were already waiting, and a huge screen displayed the real-time exchange rate of the pound against the German mark.

"Gentlemen!"

Soros's voice immediately silenced the room: "Our 'British Hunt' plan has been launched ahead of schedule, client funds are in place, and the leverage ratio can be increased to 50:1."

An analyst wearing thick glasses adjusted his glasses: "Boss, although the Bank of England's foreign exchange reserves are insufficient, they have the support of the European Exchange Rate Mechanism (ERM). If we..."

"The vast majority of Europeans won't help the British!"

Soros interrupted him, a sly smile playing on his lips: "The German central bank has privately indicated that they will not provide unlimited support for the pound, and the French are even more eager to see the British make a fool of themselves."

He walked up to the whiteboard, drew a large pound sign in red, and then drew an X.

"Anderson sent a message from Hong Kong Island that Ho Yiu-chung's promised total funding may exceed US$300 billion."

With our funds and leverage, we could create the perfect financial storm.

The air in the conference room seemed to freeze. Everyone knew that they were about to participate in what might be the largest foreign exchange attack in history.

What about the media?

Soros moved to become a public relations director.

"The editor-in-chief of The Wall Street Journal has agreed to publish our analysis on the front page on February 12, pointing out that the pound is severely overvalued, and the BBC and CNN will also report on it simultaneously."

Soros nodded in satisfaction: "Very good. Remember, this is not simple speculation, but a carefully planned psychological war."

Moreover, we must learn from our previous setback in Hong Kong. We must convince the whole world that the pound will inevitably fall, and then…

He made a downward cutting gesture: "The Bank of England can only watch helplessly as their currency collapses."

Meanwhile, at the headquarters of Hengyao Group in Central, Hong Kong Island, Ho Yiu-chung was reviewing documents handed over by his advisor, Su.

"Mr. He, Fei Peng has sent another invitation, hoping that you can attend the Queen's Conferment Ceremony on the Lantern Festival."

To show his sincerity, he even invited Hengyao Security to participate in the Queen's security operation.

The advisor, Su, adjusted his glasses: "This time his tone was even more earnest, saying that the Queen would be very disappointed if you didn't attend."

Ho Yiu-chung sneered: "Reply to him that I will attend on time. Also, notify Heng Yiu Security Department to accept the invitation from Government House to be responsible for part of the security work during the Queen's visit to Hong Kong."

The advisor, Su, gaped in surprise: "Mr. He, is there...is there no need for any further arrangements?"

"Since Fat Peng wants to act, we'll play along to the end."

He Yaozong stood up and walked to the window: "Tell the brothers that the security work must be foolproof."

One thing is one thing, two things are two things; not a single hair of the Queen can be missing during her stay in Hong Kong.

The end for foreigners in Hong Kong is just one nail away from being nailed to their coffins by the Queen!

The advisor, Su, nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly lowered his voice: "Mr. He, regarding Wall Street... should we follow up on that again?"

"Everything is proceeding according to plan!"

He Yaozong interrupted him, his eyes sharp as an eagle's: "London will soon be overwhelmed with its own problems!"

February 10, 1992, the City of London.

The atmosphere in the Bank of England's foreign exchange trading room was unusually tense, as the pound sterling continued to fall against the German mark over the past three days, approaching the lower limit set by the European Exchange Rate Mechanism.

"here we go again!"

A trader suddenly shouted: "There are over £10 billion in sell orders in the market!"

The trading manager's forehead was beaded with cold sweat: "Buy! Buy everything! We can't let the exchange rate fall below 2.7780!"

But this was just the beginning. In the next two hours, sell orders flooded in from New York, Tokyo, and Hong Kong. Quantum Fund operated simultaneously through hundreds of offshore accounts, creating market panic.

The BBC Business Channel suddenly interrupted its broadcast with an expert interview, stating that "the pound is overvalued by at least 15%."

At 12:37 pm, the Governor of the Bank of England urgently called the German central bank for support, only to be told that "the German mark is not suitable for intervention in the foreign exchange market at present"—which was in fact a polite refusal.

At 2:15 p.m., the pound sterling fell below the lower bound of the European Exchange Rate Mechanism.

The FTSE 100 index plummeted, and screams echoed throughout the trading floor.

"They are organized!"

A deputy governor of the Bank of England roared into the phone: "This is not a market correction, this is a naked financial attack!"

At the same moment, cheers erupted at the Quantum Foundation headquarters in New York.

Soros stood in the center of the trading floor, watching the pound plummet on the screen, a victorious smile on his face.

"We had a very pleasant collaboration with Hong Kong Island!"

He instructed his assistant: "Tell him that the Bank of England has surrendered. Tomorrow morning, the Wall Street Journal will publish all the inside information as planned."

At 3 a.m. Hong Kong time on February 11, Ho Yiu-chung was awakened by an encrypted satellite phone.

On the other end of the phone, Anderson's voice trembled with excitement: "Mr. He, we succeeded! The pound has been removed from the European Exchange Rate Mechanism, depreciating by more than 15%. The Bank of England has lost at least £30 billion!"

He Yaozong listened to the report quietly and only said one sentence: "Remember tomorrow's newspaper."

After hanging up the phone, he went out onto the balcony and gazed at the gradually brightening eastern horizon.

A helicopter on its early morning flight skimmed across Victoria Harbour, its fuselage prominently displaying the message: "A warm welcome to Her Majesty the Queen."

A cold smile appeared on Ho Yiu-chung's lips: "Go ahead and do the interview. After this one, you won't need to come to Hong Kong Island again!"

On the Lantern Festival, Hong Kong Island was illuminated by millions of colorful lights.

Crowds surged on both sides of Victoria Harbour, with cheers rising and falling like waves.

The Queen's yacht slowly entered the harbor, and the military band on the shore played "God Save the Queen," while a 21-gun salute was fired.

He Yaozong stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of the China World Trade Center, looking down at everything.

"It's so lively, like a final celebration."

"Mr. He, the cars... the convoy is ready!"

The advisor, Su, stood behind him and greeted him softly.

"Let's go, it's time to attend this grand event!"

The Governor's House was brightly lit, and a red carpet stretched from the main entrance to the reception room.

When He Yaozong's convoy arrived, the British guards at the gate became visibly nervous, their hands unconsciously resting on their holsters.

"Relax, Sergeant!"

Ho Yiu-chung joked in fluent English, his gaze sweeping over the medals on the guard's chest: "Serving in Northern Ireland? The weather there is much worse than on Hong Kong Island!"

Inside the reception room, the Queen was exchanging pleasantries with prominent figures from all walks of life in Hong Kong.

She wore a light blue suit, and her pearl necklace gleamed softly under the light.

Fei Peng stood beside her with a standard politician's smile on his face, but his pupils contracted slightly when he saw He Yaozong enter.

"Ah, Mr. He!"

Fat Peng strode forward, deliberately raising his voice: "Her Majesty the Queen has been eagerly anticipating meeting you!"

The sound of camera shutters clicking immediately filled the air.

Ho Yiu-chung symbolically shook hands with Fat Peng, then walked straight toward the Queen.

The reception room fell silent as everyone's attention was focused on the Hong Kong tycoon and the British monarch.

"Good evening, Ms. Elizabeth!"

He Yaozong nodded slightly, his voice calm and undisturbed.

This statement was like a bomb that exploded in the reception room.

Chen Fang'an, in particular, blushed instantly.

"presumptuous!"

He Yaozong's disdainful gaze fell on Chen Fang'an. He was about to say something when he saw the Queen raise her hand to stop Chen Fang'an's angry rebuke.

Her azure eyes met He Yaozong's gaze, her face still bearing a polite smile.

“Mr. Ho, on behalf of the British Empire, I thank you for your contributions to Hong Kong Island.”

Her voice was gentle yet authoritative: "As per our arrangements, you can be awarded the medal now. Afterwards, I will invite Christopher to a dinner party with you."

She took a gleaming gold medal from the tray held by her attendant, and polite applause rang out in the reception room, but He Yaozong made no attempt to bow to accept it.

"The medal ceremony and dinner can wait!"

He Yaozong's voice carried clearly throughout the reception room: "I have a question I'd like to ask you first."

Fei Peng's pupils contracted sharply again, a bad premonition rising in his heart.

He stepped forward and warned in a low voice, "Mr. He, please be mindful of the occasion!"

The Queen raised her hand again, glancing at He Yaozong with a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

"Mr. He, please ask!"

Ho Yiu-chung said, enunciating each word clearly, "I want to know, what is the rationale behind the Governor's Office colluding with Wall Street capital to try to short the Hong Kong Island economy?"

The living room erupted in chaos. Chen Fang'an jumped up, causing her chair to fall to the ground with a loud thud.

"Mr. He, are you mistaken? Wall Street capital is shorting the British pound right now, and they've been working directly with the British government. How could we possibly be colluding with them?"

Fat Peng's face turned deathly pale. It was bound to happen...

He tried to remain calm, but his voice was already trembling: "Mr. He, such baseless accusations are very serious."

There's an old Eastern saying that goes, "You can eat anything, but you can't say anything. In this situation, if you can't provide evidence..."

"evidence?"

Ho Yiu-chung sneered: "It's 7 a.m. New York time now. The front page of the Wall Street Journal details the secret meeting between the Governor's Office and Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley, planning to short the Hong Kong dollar before the Lunar New Year."

Your information is far too delayed, but I believe it won't be long before you, Governor, receive a call from London!

Fei Peng's fingers trembled, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"This...this must be a misunderstanding!"

Fat Peng's voice trailed off as he turned to the Queen, his eyes pleading: "Your Majesty, please allow me to temporarily suspend the welcoming ceremony. I need to verify this immediately!"

For the first time, a crack appeared in the Queen's expression; a hint of panic flashed beneath her dignified mask, but she quickly regained her composure.

"Christopher, perhaps we should talk privately."

Just then, Fat Peng's secretary hurriedly squeezed into the crowd and whispered a few words in his ear.

After hearing this, Fei Peng felt as if his spine had been removed, and his shoulders slumped instantly.

This situation has largely corroborated He Yaozong's words.

A gasp erupted in the reception room. Several pro-British MPs looked ashen-faced, while local business representatives exchanged shocked glances.

The Queen stood still, her hands clenched tightly, her knuckles white.

He Yaozong watched all this with indifference, his heart unmoved. He found the flustered state of these British men laughable.

"Mr. He..."

Fat Peng suddenly turned to him, his voice filled with an unprecedented humility: "Could we speak in private?"

He Yaozong shrugged: "Say what you have to say right here!"

Fat Peng's face turned a deep purplish-red. He looked around and felt everyone's gaze piercing him like needles.

Finally, he had to lower his head and speak to Ho Yiu-chung in an almost inaudible voice: "Please give the Governor's House some last bit of face..."

"face?"

Ho Yiu-chung's voice suddenly rose: "When you planned to destroy Hong Kong Island's economy, did you ever think about saving face for the millions of Hong Kong people?"

He turned to the Queen: "Mrs. Elizabeth, do you know what it means to short the Hong Kong dollar?"

This means that ordinary citizens' savings will evaporate overnight, businesses will go bankrupt, and workers will lose their jobs.

This means that the cost of living for millions of low-income residents of Hong Kong Island will increase exponentially!

And your governor did all this simply to empty my pockets, am I wrong?!

The Queen remained silent, her gaze shifting between Fat Peng and He Yaozong.

The air in the reception room seemed to freeze; even breathing could be clearly heard.

Mr. He!

The Queen finally spoke, her voice surprisingly calm: "I assure you that if this is indeed the case, London will handle it seriously."

(End of this chapter)