Hong Kong's billionaire matriarch Yu Baozhu, at 101 years old, still sits in the headquarters office, smoking a cigarette.

But what made her legendary wasn't her business acumen, but a remark she made in front of all Hong Kong reporters, insulting her own son.
The spotlight blazed, microphones pushed to her mouth, and she said word by word: “Just because my son spent twenty million calling a chicken!”
Instantly, Hong Kong fell silent. The Hollywood star Wang Zuxian's dream of a wealthy family was shattered by this statement.
This woman rose from a female worker at a garment factory in Guangdong, and her strength was never in softness.
Back then, her boss Lin Baixin's main wife was the daughter of a Hong Kong University professor, educated and well-mannered. Meanwhile, she was the loudest and most efficient worker in the workshop. When T-shirts in the factory were unsellable, she pulled out some colorful fabric from the scrap pile, sewed a pattern onto it herself, and showed it to the boss. As a result, orders flooded in.
Fabric suppliers raised prices on the spot, but she didn't hesitate—she plunged into the local fabric market, bargaining shop by shop, piece by piece. The cost she reported back to the boss was even lower than before the price hike.
Lin Baixin's eyes changed when he looked at her. He married her and made her the second wife.
While others fought over family dominance and favoritism, she spent every day in the factory, covered in machine oil and fabric smell. What she wanted wasn't her husband's affection but shares in the company.
In the 1960s and 1970s, factories all over Hong Kong were desperately pushing into the European and American markets, with orders as thin as paper. One day, she spread out a world map, not pointing to New York or London, but pressing heavily on Africa.
Everyone thought she was crazy.
Her logic was simple and frightening: because no one was going there, that was the printing press.
She personally