The morning light filtered through the windows as Fang Ming replayed the events of the prior day in his mind.
He had shared his vision with his father—a daring, almost reckless future that demanded they seize opportunities no matter the risks. Fang Ming had been blunt: inaction would lead to their downfall.
The British military's supply contracts rarely shifted hands. Once a company secured a deal, subsequent renewals were almost guaranteed. This made the upcoming contract not just an opportunity but a potential cornerstone of growth. The conclusion Fang Ming and his father reached was simple but monumental: they needed a ship.
The vessel they sought was one Fang Ming's father knew intimately. A weathered wooden cargo ship, aged thirteen years, yet still sturdy and dependable. Its current owner, battered by the fallout of the Sino-Japanese War, had clung to his business until Taiwan fell to Japan. With no future in sight, the man decided to sell.
For Fang Ming and his father, this was a rare alignment of fate. The ship would not only grant them access to new ventures but also come with a crew of seasoned sailors loyal to Fang Ming's father. Men who were rough around the edges, but dependable. It was a risk—but one worth taking.
After breakfast, Fang Ming and his father made their way to the Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation (HSBC). Founded in 1865, it stood as a towering institution of power and influence in the East—a titan that would one day dominate the global financial stage.
Inside the grandiose building, the air was thick with the rustling of papers and the low murmur of conversations. Fang Ming scribbled his father's Chinese name, Li Xin, on a consultation slip. They sat and waited, the minutes stretching like hours in this pre-digital era of banking.
"Fang Xin, please step into the office," a voice finally called.
The two rose, entering a modestly furnished room where a middle-aged banker awaited them. Introducing himself as Liu Feng, the man exuded an air of practiced professionalism, though his sharp eyes betrayed curiosity.
"What brings you here today?" Liu Feng inquired.
Fang Ming's father responded with fluency in Chinese, his tone respectful yet firm. "Greetings. I am Fang Xin."
But Liu Feng's gaze shifted past the elder man to Fang Ming, and his expression brightened with recognition. "Well, if it isn't Amazing Fang Ming!"
Fang Ming blinked, startled. "Amazing who?"
Liu Feng chuckled. "You mean to tell me you don't know? Everyone calls you Amazing Fang Ming! The soldiers say they can't live without you. Word is, you've got the British military wrapped around your finger."
Though Fang Ming was aware of his growing reputation, the nickname caught him off guard. To his modern sensibilities, it sounded both embarrassing and juvenile. He would've preferred something more dignified, something with gravitas.
Liu Feng pressed on, clearly entertained. "I've even visited your restaurant. Remarkable! It felt as though you've industrialized dining itself. Truly impressive."
Fang Ming's father, hearing this for the first time from an outsider, turned to his son with a newfound respect. The pride in his expression was unmistakable.
"I'm flattered," Fang Ming replied modestly. "It's just a small idea brought to life."
"Small? Hardly!" Liu Feng exclaimed. "I ordered a meal, and it arrived in under three minutes. Even the fastest taverns can't compete with that!"
Fang Ming deflected the praise with humility, though he was keenly aware of the power such efficiency held.
Liu Feng leaned back, his tone shifting to one of inquiry. "So, what brings you here today? Surely, you're not in need of a loan?"
Fang Ming's father answered, his voice steady. "We wish to secure a significant loan. The collateral will be my son's restaurant."
The banker stroked his chin, his expression thoughtful. "A solid choice. Your restaurant's reputation precedes it. However, even with such collateral, I doubt the upper management would approve more than four to five thousand dollars. And that would come with an interest rate of over 30 percent, with a significant prepayment deducted upfront."
The room grew heavy with silence. Fang Ming and his father exchanged a glance, their earlier confidence tempered by the harsh reality of the terms.
Liu Feng broke the tension with a laugh. "But you see, I am not like the others. I'm a fan of yours, Amazing Fang Ming. Or, as the Westerners say, a fan. And I don't just admire from afar. I'd like to invest in you directly."
The words hung in the air, their weight undeniable.Fang Ming studied Liu Feng, searching for hidden motives. This was no ordinary banker. His demeanor was not that of a simple lender—it was that of a predator who had found his next fascination.
"And what does this investment entail?"Fang Ming asked cautiously.
"A partnership," Liu Feng replied smoothly. "I'll provide the funds you need—both through the bank and my personal coffers. Together, we'll ensure your endeavors succeed."
Fang Ming's lips curled into a wry smile. "And if I were to take your money and disappear?"
Liu Feng's laugh was cold, calculated. "Ah, a game of cat and mouse? Don't worry. I never lose. Rest assured, should you fail, I will reclaim what's mine."
Fang Ming didn't doubt the threat behind the man's words. Liu Feng was betting on him—but only as long as Fang Ming proved himself capable.
"Very well," Fang Ming said finally. "Maximize the loan. I'll repay it within a year. But I have one condition—double the amount. Four thousand from the bank, and sixteen thousand from you."
Liu Feng arched a brow, his smirk returning. "Bold. I like that. But the interest will be steep—eight thousand dollars, no less. Miss a single payment, and I'll begin reclaiming what you hold dear."
Fang Ming's reply was steady, his tone unwavering. "Eight thousand in interest is a small price to pay for saving time. I'm not borrowing because I lack money—I'm borrowing to buy time. And time, Mr. Liu, is priceless."
The terms were agreed upon, the contracts signed. Liu Feng promised the funds would arrive at Fang Ming's doorstep the next day, escorted by his men—a gesture that further underscored the banker's influence.
As Fang Ming and his father walked home, the elder man's face was etched with worry. For a man who had spent his life earning an honest living, the scale of the loan—and its implications—was daunting. Yet Fang Ming remained silent, knowing that words could not ease his father's doubts.
When they reached their home, Fang Ming's younger sister, Yuna, peeked out from behind the half-open door.
The sight of her innocent face reminded Fang Ming why he fought so fiercely. This wasn't just about ambition or survival—it was about protecting the ones he loved.
In the quiet of the night, Fang Ming pondered the path ahead. He thought of his sister's safety, his father's pride, and the storm that loomed on the horizon. The world was descending into madness, and survival meant wielding every tool at his disposal.
History, Fang Ming knew, was not kind to the hesitant.