Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

"Furthermore, the grain procurement is progressing very smoothly." John's tone carried a hint of barely perceptible pride. "I have contacted Cargill and ADM in the United States, two of the world's largest grain traders. Several major Canadian grain exporters have also indicated that they have large quantities of stock. This year, the global grain market is generally oversupplied, and grain prices are generally low, so we have a significant price advantage."

He Damin flipped through the grain procurement documents quickly. The documents detailed the prices quoted by various suppliers, the types of grain, delivery times, transportation methods, and so on.

"What about the cargo ships?" He Damin looked up and asked Lawrence about the progress.

"We've got news from Mr. Lawrence too," John replied. "He's found several suitable secondhand Panamax bulk carriers through European channels. They're not too old, well-maintained, and have a deadweight tonnage of around 60,000 tons. If we buy them all, we'll have about five, capable of transporting 300,000 tons of grain at a time."

"Three hundred thousand tons..." He Damin hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "Not enough. Far from enough. What I need is not a large shipment at once, but a continuous supply capacity. Ships, we need to not only buy them, but also rent them. Buy as many as we can, and rent them long-term if necessary. Grain also needs to be bought continuously and then shipped back in a steady stream. Money is not the issue; what I need is speed and efficiency. We need to get the first batch of grain here as soon as possible."

John was taken aback, clearly not expecting He Damin's appetite to be so enormous. Three hundred thousand tons of grain was already an astonishing figure, yet he still felt it wasn't enough. But he didn't question it, simply nodding immediately: "Understood, Mr. He. I'll immediately communicate with Mr. Lawrence and have him intensify efforts to find more ships. At the same time, I will also negotiate long-term supply contracts with grain suppliers to ensure the stability of the supply."

He Damin closed the documents, looked at John, and suddenly asked, "Are you wondering why I suddenly need to buy so much grain? Where is this grain going?"

John paused for a moment, then nodded slightly and said frankly, "Yes, Mr. He. I am indeed a little curious. Such a large-scale grain procurement and transportation requires enormous funds, manpower, and resources, and... it doesn't seem like a purely commercial activity." He paused, then added, "But I believe you must have your reasons for doing this, Mr. He."

He Damin stood up, walked to the huge map of China, pointed to the vast land in the north, and slowly said, "John, you grew up in Hong Kong, right? Your father is British and your mother is Chinese, so you speak fluent Cantonese and understand some Chinese culture."

"Yes, Mr. Ho. I was born and raised in Hong Kong. I spent my childhood and adolescence here," John replied.

"Then you should know that to the north of Hong Kong, across the Shenzhen River, there is a very, very large piece of land." He Damin's voice was deep and powerful. "There live hundreds of millions of people who, like us, have yellow skin, black hair, and speak the same language."

John nodded; of course he knew that it was mainland China.

"They're...very short of food there right now." He Damin turned around, looking directly into John's eyes, and said, word by word, "extremely, extremely short. Many people...are starving. I want to help them."

John was completely stunned. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but didn't know what to say. He looked at He Damin, seeing the unwavering determination and a hint of deep worry in his eyes, and was deeply shaken. Although he grew up in Hong Kong, he had heard some rumors about the mainland and knew that they seemed to be going through some difficulties, but he hadn't expected that the difficulties had reached the point of needing such large-scale food aid. Moreover, Mr. He was doing this in his personal capacity… What courage and financial resources that required!

John remained silent for a long time, so long that He Damin thought he had forgotten how to speak. Then, he stood up and bowed deeply to He Damin, a bow even deeper than when he accepted the job offer.

"Mr. Ho," John's voice was slightly hoarse, but unusually firm, "Although I am an Englishman who grew up in Hong Kong, I also have Chinese blood flowing in my veins. My mother told me from a young age that I must not forget my roots. I will do my best to handle this matter and live up to your trust."

He Damin looked at him, a rare, genuine smile playing on his lips. "Okay. Go ahead."

In the days that followed, John operated at high speed, almost like a finely wound-up machine. He worked more than sixteen hours a day, constantly on the phone, meeting all sorts of people, and dealing with mountains of paperwork.

The land purchase went exceptionally smoothly. John, accompanied by his lawyers and appraisers, repeatedly inspected and negotiated the three candidate sites in Kowloon Tong, ultimately selecting the best location—right next to a planned future MTR station exit, offering excellent transportation access. Although the land price was high, it was worthwhile. He personally negotiated with the owner, leveraging his outstanding negotiation skills and the backing of the Global Group, ultimately securing the land at a relatively reasonable price.

The land for the film studio has been finalized. It's located in a barren, hilly area in the northeast of the New Territories, covering a total area of ​​800 acres, 300 acres more than He Damin initially requested. The area is far from the city center, land prices are low, and it boasts both mountains and water, making it highly adaptable. John has already contacted Hong Kong's top surveying company and is conducting detailed topographic surveys and planning.

The grain procurement went even more smoothly. American grain merchants were green with envy when they heard that a major client wanted to purchase large quantities of grain under a long-term contract. In 1960, globally, especially in North and South America, there was a bumper harvest, with supply exceeding demand and grain prices relatively low. He Damin advised John to seize this opportunity and sign three-year long-term procurement contracts with several large companies, including Cargill and ADM, securing monthly supplies of 20,000 tons each of wheat and corn, and 10,000 tons of rice, totaling 50,000 tons. John also negotiated very favorable prices, achieving a 10% discount compared to the current market price, resulting in substantial cost savings.

The cargo ship deal also made progress. Through his network of connections in Europe, Lawrence purchased six second-hand Panamax bulk carriers from Greek shipowners, each with a deadweight tonnage ranging from 60,000 to 70,000 tons. Simultaneously, he chartered four more bulk carriers of the same tonnage in Britain for two years. This would create a fleet of ten ships capable of continuously transporting grain from American ports back to Hong Kong every month.

"Mr. He," John said that afternoon, walking into the study with a thick stack of contracts and documents. He looked tired, but more so relaxed, as if he had completed a task. "These are all the documents that need your signature. The land transfer contract for the TV station building, the land lease contract for the film studio (partly lease, partly purchase), the long-term grain purchase contract, the ship purchase and lease contract... all have been reviewed and are in order."

He Damin took the pen and carefully read each document, then signed his name in the designated place. His signature was bold and elegant, exuding confidence and magnanimity. When he reached the last ship charter contract, he paused, looked up at John, and stopped.

"There's one more thing," He Damin said. "We can't just hire local Hong Kong designers for the design of the film studio."

John paused slightly, somewhat puzzled: "Mr. He means that Hong Kong's architectural designers are also highly skilled, such as P&T and Grand Cotton & Co., which are internationally renowned."

"They excel at modern architecture, high-rise buildings," He Damin shook his head. "But the core of the film city I want is those antique-style buildings, which need to have historical charm and cultural depth. In this respect, Hong Kong's designers are probably still lacking."

"So you mean..." John vaguely guessed what was going on.

"I need to find the best experts in ancient architecture." He Damin put down his pen and said with certainty, "Experts who truly understand ancient Chinese architecture. On the mainland, there are many old professors and craftsmen who have studied ancient architecture their whole lives. They understand the architectural regulations of the Ming and Qing dynasties, the construction methods of the Song and Yuan dynasties, how to lay out the large mansions in the north, and how to ventilate and prevent moisture in the arcade buildings in the south... These cannot be designed out of thin air."

He looked up, his gaze deep as he looked at John: "I want to hire them to design it. Not just one or two, but a whole group. Let them come up with the best plans, incorporating the essence of thousands of years of Chinese architectural culture into this film studio."

John hesitated for a moment, his face showing difficulty: "Mr. He, I'm afraid... it won't be easy. You know the situation on the mainland right now, with the political movements... the situation for intellectuals isn't good. Besides, even if they were willing to come, how do we contact them? How do we get them out? These are all problems."

He Damin was certainly aware of the difficulties involved. In 1960, the Three Years of Natural Disasters had just begun, followed by various political movements. Many intellectuals, especially "old intellectuals" like experts in ancient architecture, were having a very difficult time. Many of them were probably undergoing labor reform in some remote cadre school, or had been sent down to the countryside, or might even have been imprisoned in cowsheds and forced to write self-criticisms on trumped-up charges.

But he has a way, or rather, he knows who might have a way.

"You just need to prepare the contract and invitation letter, and offer them a salary they can't refuse. As for the contacting, I'll take care of that," He Damin said firmly.

John looked into He Damin's determined eyes, nodded, and didn't ask any more questions. He knew that since Mr. He had said that, he must have his reasons and methods.

It was late at night, and all was quiet. He Damin sat alone in his study, with the twinkling lights of Victoria Peak and the dazzling night view of Victoria Harbour visible through the window. He hadn't turned on the lights; only a small desk lamp on his desk was lit, casting a deep shadow on his face.

He picked up the phone, his finger hovering over the dial pad for a long time before slowly pressing a number. He had saved this number for a long time, but had never dialed it. It was a secret number that required several transfers to connect.

The phone rang for a long time, so long that He Damin thought no one would answer it, before it was finally picked up.

"Feed?" came an old and tired voice from the other end of the line, with a heavy Beijing accent and a bit hoarse, as if he hadn't had a proper rest in a long time.

"Mr. Ma?" He Damin said softly into the microphone, "I am He Damin."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, so long that He Damin almost thought the call had been disconnected.

"He Damin..." the aged voice murmured, repeating the name, then suddenly rose several octaves, filled with disbelief, surprise, and excitement, "You...you're the He Damin who caused such a commotion in Hong Kong? Little He?"

"It's me, Mr. Ma." He Damin's voice softened, carrying a hint of respect. This Mr. Ma was someone he had met through an elder when he was in Beijing. He was a top expert in ancient architecture, with profound knowledge of imperial buildings such as the Forbidden City and the Summer Palace. However, due to changes in the political situation, the two lost contact.

"How...how did you get this number?" Mr. Ma's voice was still filled with shock.

"I asked some old friends for help, and it took some effort to find it." He Damin didn't go into details. "Mr. Ma, I'd like to ask you for a favor."

"Tell me, tell me. As long as I can do it." Mr. Ma's tone was very straightforward.

"I'm planning to build a large film and television city in Hong Kong, and I need a lot of experts in ancient architecture for design and guidance," He Damin stated his purpose directly. "You are highly respected in this field and must know many talented people. I would like to ask for your help in contacting them."

Silence fell again on the other end of the phone. After a long while, Mr. Ma's voice finally broke through, trembling slightly: "I know them... how could I not know them... there are many, all national treasures... it's just that now... sigh, they're all not doing well, very badly... some have been sent down to the countryside, some have been sent to 'study classes,' some... some can't even get enough to eat..."

He Damin's fingers tightened slightly around the microphone, his heart aching as if something had clenched it. "I know. That's why I want to invite them to Hong Kong." He emphasized, "I'll cover all expenses, guaranteeing the best food and lodging, and the compensation will be absolutely generous. As long as they come, they can make any requests, and I'll try my best to fulfill them."

"Why...why did you do this?" Old Mr. Ma's voice trembled with emotion. "Xiao He, do you know how difficult this was? Getting them out of there wasn't easy! And what were you after?"

He Damin was silent for a moment, then slowly said, "Mr. Ma, I don't want anything from you. I just feel that these people are the treasures of our nation, and the knowledge they possess is a treasure passed down from our ancestors. Such skills and such culture should not be buried or wasted. I want to give them a place where they can work with peace of mind and give full play to their strengths."

A very soft sob, as if suppressed for a long time, came from the other end of the phone, followed by the sound of Mr. Ma wiping away tears with his sleeve.

"Okay...okay..." Old Mr. Ma's voice was hoarse beyond recognition. "Little He, good child...I thank you on their behalf, thank you so much...I...I'll go contact them right away. As long as they can still move, as long as they still want to work, I'll get them here! Even if I have to sell everything I own, I'll get them out here for you!"

"Thank you, Mr. Ma." He Damin's voice was also a little hoarse. "Please take care. I'll wait for your news."

After hanging up the phone, He Damin walked to the window and opened it. The cool night breeze blew in, carrying the salty smell of the sea and the chill of the mountaintop, which cleared his chaotic thoughts somewhat.

He gazed northward, at the land he had left five years prior, and silently said to himself: It's almost here, just a little longer. Until the grain arrives, feeding more people; until those retired professors and experts arrive safely in Hong Kong, allowing them to continue to inherit and promote that precious culture; until Asia TV launches, letting more voices be heard; until his plans are realized step by step…

By then, he will be able to do more than just buy grain. He will have many, many more things to do.