In an unusual move, Hopewell appeared to respond to the public criticism in what could become a stamp of identity for the 36-year-old family business now headed by Thomas Jefferson Wu, the son of co-managing director and co-founder Gordon Wu Ying-sheung.

Thomas took a role in the company 10 years ago, and has said in past interviews that he had wanted to implement transparency in dealings with the public.

Never has that ideal been tested as closely.

"Public discourse went undirected, so there were many misconceptions about that project, about many things," says Wu today, from a sparse conference room at Hopewell Centre, which overlooks the development site.

"Maybe we had not communicated all the improvements we would have in the community. Our company being the developer, being the promoter behind the project, should be more proactive and see better results from that."

He thinks the district council was surprised by the approach. "They had initially been somewhat reluctant to talk to us, thinking that `this' is the way we would do something and that there would be no way to change it," he says.

"As representatives of people in this area, they had their minds set, so there was a huge gap between us. We tried to talk to them and say 'well y'know, it's not how things are.'

"We asked them to remember all these years that we have been working in the district, and slowly they became more receptive to thinking that we were not so 'evil' as some would like to paint us."

Wu appears remarkably unlike his outspoken father. When he walks into the boardroom dressed in a neat navy suit, his entrance holds all the drama of a student sliding into a lecture. He is amicable and polite, but reserved.

Though Wu remembers seeing his dad's image constantly on TV, he is rarely in the public arena, preferring card games or dinners at home with friends. "Sometimes going to those gala parties is quite tiring," he admits.

And he is modest. "I am quite good at numbers," he utters at one point. (It would be more apt to say he is a numbers' whizz quicker than a calculator sometimes and an ace with computers, money and accounts).

But, like Wu senior, Thomas Wu is an engineer trained at Princeton and also a Stanford MBA grad. His voice, with its smooth American accent, is quiet but deceptive.

To a casual listener, he might sound timid - but his word choices are strong and reveal an appetite for strategy and powerful ambition. "I see myself stringing everything together, making it happen," he says in such understated tones that the force of that missive could easily be overlooked.

While he seems soft spoken, when the going gets tough he says he can handle employees. They are not encouraged to bother him with mundane problems send an e-mail, he directs and he doesn't shy from taking them to task if need be. "It's a hard pill to swallow, but that's what you have to do."

And, like a born entrepreneur, play is as much work as work is play

Wu smiles, and motions that he has to get changed, hopping up off the benches and away to the lockers. In a gray T-shirt and baseball cap, he looks scrappy more 17 than 36.

It's 11pm on a Sunday night at the Megabox ice rink and Wu is preparing for play.

Two teams are battling on the ice in the game before Wu's. Bankers, solicitors and other executives pit their wits, relieving weeks of recession stress through gliding, slicing, sweaty combat.

Mostly they come from Canada, the United States and Japan, with a sprinkling of Hong Kong locals that picked up the game in school overseas.

While he started ice-skating young, Wu was persuaded into hockey by friends on his return from the US.

The puck flies and thwacks the rim of protective glass around the ice. For a second, action pauses. Then the bulky players, growling like bears, make for attack diving toward the puck as it lands.

The game moves fast, players sliding swiftly from one side of the arena and back again.

If Wu was cautious back at Hopewell HQ, tonight he is enthusiastic and energized. He looks larger when he returns in his hockey gear, taller because of the skates, wider because of the shoulder pads, but on the ice he is less than threatening. Wu plays defense, where it is essential to "clear the puck," or keep it away from the goal.

He plays the league games every Sunday night. His team are in fifth position out of six. With a wry smile he says that maybe he should "look at" how the teams are picked to play. Admitting defeat is hard for Wu in whatever capacity.

But actual play is second to his bigger mission.

Kyle Simms is a tall, rangy Canadian and professional referee who coaches kids for the Hong Kong Academy of Ice Hockey, which Wu founded in 2007.

The ref started on the ice aged two. By 12, he was refereeing and at 16 he turned professional. Wu offered him a two-year contract as part of the larger goal he has for hockey across the region.

Simms' story is the type that Wu would like to see replicated in Hong Kong, because the game to him represents much more than a simple Sunday evening pastime.

His aim is to build the game from the roots up, drafting players when they are young, recruiting from schools and then training a national team.

Indeed, his presence is felt much more outside the arena, in schools where the sport is being promoted and where Wu has reduced costs for kids that could not normally afford to play by donating uniforms and arranging facilities and training.

He is also building recognition for the sport in China and Taiwan.

He agrees that the game has become a business of passion, orchestrated with the same competitive spirit and drive that he uses in the boardroom.

Wu sees Wan Chai sprouting as an alternative to SoHo. He wants access to the meetings, incentives, conferences and events market through Hopewell Centre II's conference hotel.

His ambitions for the HITEC exhibition centre at Kowloon Bay are pinned on making the expansive space the world's pre-eminent movie premiere destination. He wants to take Hong Kong hockey to the Winter Olympics.

Many eyes have been on Wu over the past decade, and he seems to have done his damndest to stay in the shadows. He is almost done defending the fact that he went into the family business.

"There is a saying - it's not whether you make the team, it's whether you make the team stronger. I didn't want to join the business because it was the default thing to do," he says. "After the business degree, I believed I had enough to contribute."

It would appear that the best indicators of his guts and determination are to be found more in actions than words, in the bricks and mortar lifestyle projects he is overseeing.

In Wan Chai: the East, a 275,000 square foot dining and entertainment area encompassing the QRE Plaza, which holds a trendier line of food and beverage outlets; and GardenEast, a 28-story block of serviced apartments.

In Kowloon: filling HITEC with famous names. There are a host of other tourism-oriented and hospitality-led projects already running or being planned. The Mega Tower may have diminished, the vision has not.

"He is a quiet player," Simms remarks. "Sometimes I don't know he is there until he makes a move."