The Five Brothers' Dream

After struggling in Hong Kong for more than two years, Yide finally understood one thing: America had given him too large an imagination, while Hong Kong had given him too narrow a market.
Putting the Hong Kong industrial and commercial Yellow Pages online, putting institutional white pages online, building corporate homepages, English directories, online search—each item sounded fresh. Technically, there had indeed been breakthroughs. Zhide supported him remotely from Silicon Valley, helping him build the database, search function, and webpage architecture bit by bit. On the Hong Kong side, several young people entered data day and night, moving trading houses, law firms, accounting offices, freight companies, jewelers, garment factories, and electronic-component merchants online one by one. Yide also ran to chambers of commerce, exhibitions, and banquets, explaining to those shrewd Hong Kong bosses: “If you pay for one webpage now, it is equal to opening a door to the world in the future.”
But Hong Kong bosses were even shrewder. After listening, they nodded, said it was good, said it had a future, and then asked, “Mr. Ma, when will there be orders?”
Some enterprises tried paying a little money and made pages. Some received a few overseas inquiry letters, grew excited for several days, then quickly returned to calm. More people still felt that fax was sufficient, telephone was fast enough, and familiar customers were the safest. The internet was like a fish that had just shown itself above the water. Everyone knew it might grow large, but no one was willing to spend a high price now to buy the fishpond.
After more than two years, the money had been spent, the technology had been built, and connections had been accumulated, yet the cash truly recovered was pitifully little. Sometimes Yide sat in the Sheung Wan office, looking at the densely layered signboards outside the window, bitterness rising in his heart. Everything in Hong Kong was fast; only toward things that could not immediately become money, this city had very little patience.
Third Uncle Ma Gaohui, however, did not blame him.
After looking over the accounts, Ma Gaohui only said lightly, “Hong Kong is a small place, and making mistakes here is expensive. This thing of yours is only a sample in Hong Kong. The real market is still in the mainland. A sample burning money is normal. Burning money and learning nothing—that is what is called stupidity.”
Yide gave a bitter smile. “Third Uncle, I am not stupid now, but I am very poor.”
Ma Gaohui gave a snort. “Poverty is not frightening. What is frightening is having no cards. These two years, you have at least touched a few cards.”
Indeed, Yide had gained many connections in Hong Kong. Chambers of commerce, Hong Kong merchants, lawyers, accountants, trading companies, young technology people, friends in newspapers, and even some mainland institutions stationed in Hong Kong had begun to know that there was a Ma Yide who understood the internet, understood the mainland, and had Third Uncle Ma Gaohui supporting him from behind. The business had not yet truly taken off, but an invisible net had already slowly begun to weave itself.
Yet Yide’s greatest gain was not connections, nor technology, but Wang Zuyi.
The first time he met Zuyi was at a small gathering in Third Uncle’s home.
That day, a fine rain was falling over Hong Kong, and the mist on the Peak was very heavy. Ma Gaohui had invited several old friends to dinner at an old residence halfway up the mountain. Among them was a woman named Su Qiaoqiao. In her youth, she had been a leading actress of the Zhejiang Little Flowers Yue Opera Troupe, singing many plays of gifted scholars and beautiful ladies. Later, she retired and came to Hong Kong. She and Ma Gaohui had known each other for many years. Though already middle-aged, she still carried the grace left behind from the stage. Her speech was soft and gentle; when she lifted a hand or turned her eyes, there seemed to be the shadow of long water sleeves.
If his father Cunde had been present, he would certainly have been delighted. Cunde had always loved Yue opera. Hearing the words “Little Flowers,” he would likely have put down even his tea and first asked, “Did she ever sing Five Daughters Offering Birthday Felicitations?”
When Su Qiaoqiao heard Yide say that his father loved Yue opera, she smiled very warmly. “Then in the future, invite the old gentleman to Hong Kong, and I will sing a couple of sections for him without accompaniment. My voice is no longer what it was, but the meaning is still there.”
Yide was just about to answer politely when someone entered at the door.
That was Wang Zuyi.
She held a black umbrella, rainwater dripping from its edge. She wore an ivory trench coat, with a pale blue shirt underneath. Her long hair had been slightly moistened by the rain and fell upon her shoulders. She was not the kind of beauty that was gaudy at first glance, but rather a beauty so bright one did not dare look lightly upon her. Her brows and eyes were exquisite, her nose elegant and straight, her lips softly colored. When she smiled, there was light in her eyes. Her whole person seemed to have just stepped out from between Victoria Harbour’s rainy night and a university campus, carrying both the softness of a Jiangnan woman and the efficiency of a Hong Kong woman.
At the first sight of her, Yide felt as though something had lightly struck his heart.
Su Qiaoqiao introduced her. “This is my daughter, Zuyi. She graduated in business administration from the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology. She has just come back and is helping a friend with a project.”
Wang Zuyi closed her umbrella and nodded to everyone, her voice clear. “I’m sorry, there was traffic on the road.”
Ma Gaohui laughed. “When is there not traffic in Hong Kong? Traffic is also part of Hong Kong’s economy.”
Zuyi immediately replied, “Then Hong Kong’s economy is very healthy. Just now, from Central to Mid-Levels, it was terribly healthy.”
Everyone laughed. Yide laughed too, but found that his laughter was a little slow. His gaze could not help falling upon her again and again. After Zuyi sat down, she did not hurry to show herself off, nor did she deliberately remain quiet. When she listened to the elders speak, she was very attentive; occasionally she added a sentence, always at the right moment. She understood Cantonese, Mandarin, and English. When she spoke of business, her thinking was clear; when she spoke of opera, she could follow her mother’s words and say a few things about singing style and stage movement. That brightness and intelligence combined together made Yide, for a moment, feel almost awkward.
After dinner, Ma Gaohui asked Yide to see Zuyi down the mountain.
The two walked side by side to the door. The rain had already stopped, and Hong Kong’s night had been washed bright by the rain. Below the mountain, tens of thousands of household lights spread layer upon layer, while Victoria Harbour lay like a black ribbon, the reflections of lights moving upon it. Zuyi held her closed umbrella in her hand and turned her head to look at Yide. “I heard Uncle Ma say that you are doing the internet?”
Yide smiled. “I am doing it, yes. It simply has not made money yet.”
Zuyi smiled too. “That sentence is very honest. Hong Kong people generally do not like listening to stories that have not made money.”
“That is why I have spoken very painfully in Hong Kong.”
“Then why not return to the mainland? The mainland market is large.”
Yide looked at her and felt that this girl asked directly, yet not sharply. “I think the same. Hong Kong is too narrow; it is only suitable as a sample. The true broad road lies in the mainland. But before going back, I must first polish the model clearly, and I must also find people who understand management, market, and capital.”
Zuyi paused, a smile in her eyes. “Are you recruiting, or chatting?”
Yide laughed at her sentence. “Originally I was chatting. You heard it as recruiting, which proves you have business sensitivity.”
“As a business administration graduate, I must have a little occupational disease,” Zuyi said. “But your direction is not bad. Yellow Pages and white pages are only the entrance. E-commerce is the real thing behind it. It is just that the mainland’s credit system, payment methods, logistics, and transparency of enterprise information have not yet kept up. If you go back to the mainland to do this, you cannot only speak of the internet. You must speak of how business truly closes its loop.”
Yide’s heart lit up.
In these two years, he had heard too many beautiful words and too much cold water. But Zuyi’s few sentences truly touched his sore point. She was not merely watching excitement, nor merely listening to concepts. She understood management, commercial structure, why the Hong Kong market was small, and why the mainland market was large yet difficult.
He could not help saying, “Miss Wang, would you be interested in coming to help me?”
Zuyi raised her eyebrows. “Just now you said it was not recruiting.”
“Now it is.”
Zuyi laughed. That laugh was very beautiful, like the lights of Victoria Harbour suddenly swaying in the wind. “Mr. Ma, if you want to poach someone, you must have conditions. Is your company profitable now?”
Yide was frank. “No.”
“Are the wages high?”
“Not very high.”
“Is the future certain?”
“Not certain.”
“Then what do you rely on to invite me?”
Yide thought for a moment and said, “I rely on my belief that this thing will certainly succeed. I rely on my willingness to bring it back to the mainland and do something big with it. And also, I rely on the fact that I now very much need someone like you.”
Once he said this, even he himself felt it was somewhat presumptuous. But Zuyi did not grow angry. She looked at him for a while, her eyes carrying that quick liveliness of a young woman who has seen through something but does not speak it through.
“You are quite bold.”
Yide said, “A timid person would long ago have gone back to Canton to collect rent.”
Zuyi lowered her head and smiled. “I will think about it.”
From then on, Yide often asked Zuyi to meet.
Sometimes it was in a café in Central, with business plans, financial budgets, and industry directories spread over the table. Sometimes it was by the waterfront in Tsim Sha Tsui, the two of them walking as they spoke of the Hong Kong market, mainland enterprises, e-commerce, brands, and logistics. Sometimes they went to listen to one of Su Qiaoqiao’s small private singing sessions. Once Su Qiaoqiao opened her mouth, the tone of Yue opera flowed like Jiangnan spring water into the Hong Kong night. As Yide listened, he would think of his father Cunde. If his father were here, he would certainly close his eyes and beat time, saying, “This flavor is right.”
Wang Zuyi respected her mother’s Yue opera deeply, yet she did not want to live inside opera.
“My mother’s generation sang of gifted scholars and beautiful ladies,” she said to Yide. “My generation cannot only wait for a gifted scholar to come and recognize us. Hong Kong women must know how to keep accounts themselves.”
Yide laughed. “Then have you calculated my account?”
Zuyi looked at the sea. “I have. The risk is very high.”
“And the return?”
“Perhaps also very high.”
“Then is it worth investing in?”
She did not immediately answer. The sea wind lifted her hair, and she gently pressed it down with her hand. Her profile was especially beautiful beneath the lights: brows and eyes clear, skin fair and clean, her expression carrying a firmness that did not belong to ordinary women. Looking at her, Yide suddenly felt that all the setbacks of these two years no longer counted for much. The money had not returned, but a person had come. The enterprise had not yet bloomed, yet fate had quietly brought someone to his side.
That night, they walked all along Victoria Harbour.
Behind them were the lights of Tsim Sha Tsui; before them were the towers of Central. The Star Ferry cut across the sea, its boat lights brightening and dimming. The sea wind carried dampness and the smell of gasoline, and also the special liveliness and loneliness of Hong Kong. Zuyi walked beside him, her steps light and quick. Occasionally she stopped to look at the high-rises in the distance; occasionally she asked about what he had seen in America, whether Silicon Valley truly had many young people starting businesses in garages, whether the bronze bull on Wall Street in New York felt cold to the touch.
Yide said, “The bronze bull is very cold, but after touching it, a person becomes hot.”
Zuyi laughed. “What sort of reasoning is that?”
“The reasoning of merchants. The colder a thing is, the more easily it makes people heat up.”
Zuyi laughed even more. “You businesspeople do not even let a bronze bull go.”
“I now even less wish to let opportunity go.”
She turned her head to look at him. “Am I an opportunity too?”
Yide paused, then became serious. “You are not an opportunity. You are my best gain in Hong Kong.”
Zuyi’s smile slowly withdrew. She looked at him, her eyes bright and deep, like the gentlest lamp in Victoria Harbour’s night colors. After a moment, she said softly, “Ma Yide, sometimes your words are very dangerous.”
“Why?”
“Because they do not sound like business. They sound like opera.”
Yide smiled. “Then it depends on whether you are willing to sing on with me.”
The sea wind blew past, and neither of them spoke again. In the distance, a ship’s horn sounded once, as though leaving a lingering note for this unfinished sentence.
A few days later, Zuyi officially came to Yide’s office. She did not put on the airs of a young lady. As soon as she entered, she began reading materials, client lists, account books, and technical documents. Very quickly, she pointed out several problems: the client categories were too rough, the fee model unclear, the mainland expansion path insufficiently concrete, the English-page style inconsistent, and the salespeople knew only how to speak of concepts, not customer benefits.
Watching her write before the whiteboard, Yide felt both admiration and joy.
Her handwriting did not have Xinde’s bones, yet it was clear and efficient. She did not speak quickly, but each sentence landed on the point. The young people in the office at first only knew that the boss had invited a beautiful woman. Later, they discovered that this beautiful woman was not only good-looking. She could organize chaotic thoughts into tables, and she could break Yide’s ambition into stages, budgets, products, and target customers.
When Ma Gaohui heard of this, he said only one sentence: “This girl is not merely a flower vase.”
Yide smiled. “Third Uncle, she is like a lamp.”
Ma Gaohui glanced at him. “Lamps also require electricity. Can you afford to keep it lit?”
Yide smiled without answering.
He knew that, from the accounts alone, his Hong Kong internet experiment was not successful. More than two years of investment had nearly failed to recover its capital; those webpages, directories, and technical systems could not yet be exchanged for sufficient money. But if seen from a longer road, these two years had not been wasted. He had seen clearly the narrowness of Hong Kong, and also the vastness of the mainland. He had touched the door of the internet, and he had also touched the doubt of merchants. He had come to know Third Uncle’s circle, and he had also met Wang Zuyi.
Once, he took Zuyi for a walk by the sea, just as dusk arrived. The setting sun dyed the surface of the water pale gold, and the distant towers looked like silent mountains. Zuyi wore a white dress, with a light gray coat over it. When the wind came, the hem of her dress lifted gently. Standing there, she was like a painting just completed: the softness of a Jiangnan huadan, the clarity of a Hong Kong university student, the sharpness of a business-school woman, and the light of a young life unwilling to concede defeat.
Looking at her, Yide suddenly thought that if this woman stood beside him, perhaps he truly could walk out that road from Hong Kong into the mainland.
Zuyi turned back and asked, “What are you looking at?”
Yide said, “At my future.”
Zuyi’s face reddened slightly, yet she deliberately put on a stern expression. “Mr. Ma, the future depends on execution, not looking.”
Yide laughed. “Then may I ask Miss Wang to supervise.”
She reached out and lightly shook his hand, as though concluding a business agreement, and also as though handing over a young heart.
The wind of Victoria Harbour blew over, carrying dampness, lights, and the distant whistles of ships. Hong Kong was still crowded, still realistic, still measured in gold by every inch of land, still unwilling to reward dreams easily. Yet at this moment, Yide felt that he was no longer alone.
America had given him distance.
Hong Kong had given him failure, and also love.
And Zuyi stood beside him like a flower that had stepped out from Yue opera water sleeves, yet could also shine by itself in the world of commerce. Her beauty moved the heart, and her intelligence gave it peace. Yide knew that from then on, in his plan to return to the mainland and do something grand, there would no longer be only Third Uncle’s capital, Zhide’s technology, and his own ambition. There would also be a pair of bright eyes, and a heart that knew how to keep accounts, yet also knew how to grow warm.
This was the true gift Hong Kong had given him.