Pure fiction, of course. Nothing to do with this.
The story starts in 1940, with Japanese forces invading southern China. A penniless teenager called Cheng flees his home for the relative safety of Macau, where a jewellery shop owner agrees to let him sleep under the counter in return for doing odd jobs. Over the years, the plucky youngster learns the trade, and marries the goldsmith’s daughter. (Yes, it’s corny.)
After the war, the couple move to Hong Kong to open a new outlet, and start a family. The jewellery business proves lucrative, and by the late 1960s, Cheng is investing in Macau’s casino/tourism industry and expanding into Hong Kong real estate – two emerging gargantuan money-making machines.
Fast-forward to the 1980s-90s, and Cheng is one of Hong Kong’s biggest billionaires. Thinking ahead, he decides to give number-one son Henry the job of managing director. He also becomes Honorary Consul for Bhutan. Viewers may wonder why the scriptwriter put this apparently irrelevant detail in the plot. But could the little side-gig with the ancient and mysterious Himalayan kingdom come with a curse?
Henry initially proves less than dazzling as the prospective heir to the family’s business empire, and Cheng feels a need to retake control for a while. But the aging patriarch cannot hold on forever, and in the mid-2010s, he dies.
By the time he gets the hang of running a major conglomerate, Henry himself needs to think about succession. His first-born son Adrian seems the obvious choice, with all those hereditary business-acumen intelligence genes. (The second-born male is Brian, the third Christopher. A, B, C – geddit? His only daughter gets shunted to the back of the alphabet with the name Sonia.)
Adrian is a hip and arty guy who (allegedly) can’t tie his own shoe-laces but has launched several projects, including an upscale shopping mall in Kowloon, the air in which is permeated with a scent of his own choosing.
As he assumes more responsibility for the family business, the young Adrian sees dazzling opportunities in luxury cultural concept lifestyle-type real estate, driven especially by the rise of wealthy Chinese consumers. This prompts a mega-brainwave in 2018: a massive shopping mall out at Hong Kong airport. Rather than go to their hotels, tourists would head straight for the designer-label stores next to the terminal. Or, rather than go straight to the departures lounge after checking in, departing passengers would load up with handbags and watches first. Or they would splurge on luxury goods both upon arrival and before leaving.
The development, on land provided by the airport as a HK$1.8 billion-a-year rental play, totals 3.8 million square feet, which would house 800 stores and restaurants, an entertainment-something, as well as extensive office space. The banks are more than happy to help finance the HK$20 billion project.
No-one stops to consider economist Herbert Stein’s dictum – if something cannot go on forever, it will stop. And the never-ending Mainland-shopper phenomenon shudders to a halt in the early 2020s, after Covid and the bursting of China’s property bubble.
Tragically, 11 Skies turns out to be a wretchedly bad idea. Adrian leaves New World by mid-2025 to focus on public service and philanthropy. In September 2026, lumbered with some HK$120 billion in debt, the company hands the – mostly never-occupied – development to the airport, with over HK$3 billion by way of contract-release, plus an option to buy cut-price shares in the family business. The smaller parts of the conglomerate entrusted to Sonia remain profitable.
In the final episode, the family try to sell their collection of Gold Bauhinia Medals on eBay.
Hong Kong used to be so much fun. Remember when tycoon Joseph Lau married one of his mistresses as part of a deal whereby her brother donated a kidney to him?
Headline of the Day, from HKFP: ‘China National Day: Hong Kong leader hails Five-Year Plan as astronaut sends greetings’.
The Standard reports ‘Long queues at Tsim Sha Tsui cross-border bus terminus after National Day fireworks’. They don’t mention the Mainland woman interviewed by media who said she had come to see the display with her husband and two kids. Their budget for the day was 200 Yuan. To save money, she had brought bread and milk to Hong Kong.
Japanese news agency Kyodo News says it has found evidence that the Chinese military was prepared to suppress the 2014 Umbrella Movement in Hong Kong…
Sources familiar with the matter suggested that China did not resort to armed intervention due to concerns over potential international isolation similar to that faced by the country in the wake of the 1989 military crackdown on pro-democracy protesters in Beijing’s Tiananmen Square.
China Talk interviews Logan Wright, who estimates that China’s economy is currently experiencing negative growth as investment contracts…
[China’s situation] is the result of distinct policy choices about how the financial system operated.
After the global financial crisis, China saw the largest single-country credit expansion the world has seen in at least the last century, possibly many centuries. China added a third of global GDP to its bank assets in just eight years. We’ve never seen anything remotely like it.
First, there was a deliberate attempt to provide countercyclical support in response to the global financial crisis. The extension after that was essentially path dependence. Growth was strong, it was dependent on investment, and it became too difficult for authorities to shut down without imperiling the overall economy. That facilitated the growth of the shadow banking system, and credit growth became increasingly disconnected from the real economy. A lot of it went into the property sector and local government infrastructure.
Transcript or podcast on YouTube.