Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

On Victoria Peak in the early morning, a thin mist, like a veil, draped the entire Hong Kong Island in a hazy cloak. The air was slightly damp and cool, refreshing to the lungs. He Damin stood before the huge floor-to-ceiling window in his study, holding a white porcelain gaiwan filled with freshly brewed Longjing tea. The tea leaves unfurled, floating on the surface, releasing a delicate fragrance. He took sips now and then, the warm tea soothingly sliding down his throat.

His gaze swept over the low-rise buildings cascading below, settling on the gradually clearing Victoria Harbour in the distance. On the sea, several cargo ships moved slowly like giant beetles, occasionally punctuated by the muffled blasts of their horns. A full week had passed since he returned from Tokyo, but the image of that city, like a movie, still played repeatedly in his mind.

The roar of the machines still seems to echo in my ears, the never-ending rhythm of the factory; busy workers, dressed in uniform, their faces showing weariness yet full of energy; at night, the neon lights of Shinjuku and Ginza are dazzlingly bright, illuminating the entire city as if it were daytime; and the presidents of those Japanese companies, each one dressed in a suit and tie, their eyes revealing an undeniable confidence and ambition, discussing business with rapid and clear speech.

"It's developing so fast..." He Damin sighed softly, muttering to himself.

Washing machines, refrigerators, televisions, radios, and tape recorders—these household appliances, proudly known by the Japanese as the "Three Sacred Treasures" (and later expanded to include them), are entering every ordinary Japanese home at an astonishing pace. Panasonic, Toshiba, Hitachi, Sony… one after another, renowned brands have sprung up like mushrooms after rain, not only dominating the domestic market but also selling their electronic products to every corner of the world, earning substantial profits.

He Damin put down the covered bowl in his hand, the bottom of the bowl making a slight "clatter" as it touched the table. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, revealing a barely perceptible smile.

They have products, he has satellites.

The thought of the satellite system he controlled filled He Damin's heart with a warm glow, like a small sun shining down. Thirty-six communication satellites and twenty-four positioning satellites, like loyal sentinels, operated tens of thousands of kilometers above the Earth, forming a global, seamless celestial network. This system was at least fifty years ahead of the rest of the world! Now, it was time to put it to real use; it couldn't be kept hidden away like a precious treasure any longer.

He turned and walked to the large mahogany desk, picking up the phone. The phone was black, with a metallic feel, and heavy. He dialed a number skillfully, and when the call connected, he said in a steady tone, "Lawrence, come over." He paused, then added, "It's important."

After hanging up the phone, He Damin walked to the window and glanced one last time at the gradually awakening Victoria Harbour. Sunlight began to pierce through the thin mist, gilding the sea with a layer of gold.

About half an hour later, a faint engine sound approached from afar. He Damin looked out the window and saw a black Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud, like a steady shadow, slowly drive into the villa and stop in the open space in front of the main building. The car door opened, and Lawrence stepped out. He was still wearing a sharp dark suit, his hair neatly combed, only that his temples and forehead were a little whiter than when he first met him five years ago, like a touch of frost. But he was still full of energy, his steps steady, carrying his signature brown leather briefcase that had been with him for many years; the corners of the briefcase were worn, but it only made it seem more substantial. The eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses still gleamed with shrewdness, his observations of people and things revealing a sharp edge.

"Good morning, Mr. He." Lawrence walked to the study door, knocked gently, and after receiving permission, pushed the door open and entered, bowing slightly as he greeted him politely.

He Damin pointed to the chair opposite the desk, gesturing for him to sit down. Once Lawrence was seated, he didn't beat around the bush and asked directly, "Lawrence, how many years have you been with me?"

Lawrence was slightly taken aback, seemingly not expecting Ho to ask such a question, but he quickly recovered and, after a moment's thought, answered accurately: "Five years, Mr. Ho. From the time you first came to Hong Kong in 1954 and officially appointed me to handle affairs, it has been exactly five years." He remembered clearly that it was also a sunny day.

"Five years..." He Damin repeated the number, nodded, his gaze deep, "In these five years, how many things have you helped me with?"

"A lot." Lawrence smiled gently, but his tone was confident. "The complicated procedures of acquiring Wing On Bank and Union Bank, the establishment of the framework and team for Global Bank Management Company, the handling of several disputes, big and small, with the Governor's House, and dealing with those guys who coveted your gold reserves like sharks smelling blood... I remember every single one of them clearly and dare not be careless in the slightest."

He Damin looked at him quietly for a long while before slowly speaking: "Lawrence, you are a smart man, quick-witted, and thorough in your work. More importantly, you are a reliable person." His voice was not loud, but it carried a convincing power. "It's been five years, you should have realized by now—what I, He Damin, want to do is not an ordinary business, not just to make a few bucks."

Lawrence was silent for a moment. He sat upright in his chair, leaning slightly forward, his expression becoming serious. Then, he nodded solemnly.

"Yes, Mr. He. I can see that." He paused, his tone sincere, "But I never ask why. I only know that following you is the best decision I've ever made in my life. Your vision and courage are unlike anything I've ever seen." In the past five years, he had followed He Damin and witnessed too many incredible things, and had also received far more rewards and respect than he had expected.

Upon hearing this, He Damin smiled, his tense face softening considerably.

"Okay," he said, his tone resolute. "From today onwards, the Global Bank Management Company is officially handed over to you. You are the president, fully responsible, and you no longer need to consult me ​​on every matter."

Lawrence was genuinely stunned this time. His expression froze, and his eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses widened slightly. He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something.

"Mr. He, this...this is too sudden, I..."

"Don't refuse." He Damin raised his hand to stop him, his tone leaving no room for argument. "For the past five years, you've actually been the one managing the affairs of Global Bank. Xue Ru was just a figurehead, familiarizing herself with the business. The one who truly supported us and handled the specifics was you. Now, I'm simply giving you the right to sit in this position and officially handing over the responsibility to you."

Lawrence took a deep breath, suppressing his excitement and slight fear. He stood up and bowed deeply to He Damin, his waist bent very low.

"Thank you for your trust, Mr. He! I, Lawrence, will certainly live up to your expectations, even if it costs me my life, I will manage the Global Bank well!" His voice trembled slightly, a mixture of excitement and a promise.

He Damin nodded in satisfaction, gesturing for him to sit down. Then, he took a document from a drawer in his desk and pushed it in front of Lawrence.

"There's one more thing."

Lawrence straightened up, sat back down, took the document with both hands, and opened to the first page. After just one glance, his eyes widened, his mouth gaped open, and he wore an expression of disbelief.

It was a printed television station license application form, with the heading prominently displayed as "Asia Satellite Television".

"Asia... Asia TV?" He looked up, staring intently at He Damin, as if to confirm whether he was seeing things.

"Yes." He Damin leaned back in his large leather chair, his hands clasped over his stomach, looking relaxed. "Hong Kong's first Chinese-language television station. I want its signal to cover the entire Southeast Asia, and even... farther places."

Lawrence opened his mouth, momentarily at a loss for words. A television station? In Hong Kong in 1959, television was still an absolute novelty, a luxury. There was only one English-language television station in all of Hong Kong, run by the British, called "Rediffusion," and it was cable with a pitifully small coverage area. Only a few wealthy families living in specific areas could receive the signal, and the price of a television set was shockingly high. A Chinese-language television station? This was simply unheard of; no one even dared to dream of it!

"Mr. He," Lawrence steadied himself and began with difficulty, his throat feeling dry, "the television industry... requires a huge investment. Equipment, venues, personnel—each one costs a lot of money. And the technical requirements are extremely high. We probably can't find many knowledgeable people in Hong Kong. And..." He paused, then uttered the most crucial point, "And how many television sets are there in Hong Kong right now? I estimate, at most a few thousand? The market is simply too small; the investment and return are disproportionate!"

Upon hearing this, He Damin smiled, as if he had anticipated Lawrence's concerns.

"Lawrence, tell me, how many television sets will there be in Hong Kong five years from now?"

Lawrence frowned and thought for a moment. Based on the growth trend of the past two years and the momentum of economic development, he cautiously guessed: "At the current growth rate, maybe... tens of thousands of units? Perhaps up to fifty thousand units?" This was already the most optimistic number he could think of.

"What about ten years from now?" He Damin asked again, his gaze deep.

"Ten years from now..." Lawrence's thoughts were guided by He Damin, and he boldly imagined, "Tens of thousands? Or... two hundred thousand?" He himself felt that the number was a bit exaggerated.

He Damin nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer.

"Then think about it again. If our program is good enough, attractive enough, and can grab the audience's attention, wouldn't those who already own a TV want to turn it on every day? And wouldn't those who don't have a TV yet want to buy one after seeing such a wonderful program?"

Lawrence fell silent. He was a shrewd businessman, and He Damin's words were like a key, unlocking a switch in his mind. Yes, demand can be created. If television programs are engaging enough, television sets will no longer be optional luxuries, but will become a new necessity.

"Television," He Damin stood up, walked to the window again, and looked at Hong Kong, where the mist had completely dissipated and the sun was shining brightly, "is different from newspapers. You need to be literate to read newspapers, and you have to spend time reading them. Television? You can watch it even if you can't read. The elderly and children can watch it. It's more intuitive, more vivid, and more attractive. It will become the biggest information dissemination tool in the future, much more powerful than newspapers and radio. It can influence people's thoughts, change people's lifestyles, and even...shape the culture of an era."

He turned to look at Lawrence, his eyes brimming with confidence and vision: "Entering this industry now, we're the first to try something new. Five years from now, when the market matures, we'll be the leaders, and no one will be able to catch up. Ten years from now, the whole of Southeast Asia will be watching our shows and hearing our voices."

Lawrence remained silent for a long time, so long that He Damin thought he was still hesitating. Then, he slowly stood up, his eyes becoming firm.

"Mr. He, I'll do as you say. I'll apply for the license! Just tell me what you need me to do!" He knew that He Damin's judgment was never wrong. Since He Damin was optimistic about this industry, then this industry must have a huge future.

He Damin nodded in satisfaction; this was the Lawrence he knew.

"There's one more thing." He took another document from the drawer and pushed it over.

"The president of the TV station is neither me nor you."

Lawrence's heart skipped a beat. He took the document, opened it, and was completely stunned. In the "Proposed President" section, three words were clearly written: Chen Xueru.

"Mrs. He...?" He looked up at He Damin, his eyes filled with surprise.

"Yes." He Damin's lips curled up slightly, with a hint of warmth. "Xue Ru has studied bank management with you for five years. From a clueless girl, she has now become capable of handling things on her own, which is quite remarkable. It's time for her to stand on her own and venture out on her own. Television is a completely new industry, and no one has any experience. We are all feeling our way across the river. It's a good opportunity for her to learn from scratch and put her skills to use."