The votes were in, and Hong Kong's pro-democratic movement had trounced its pro-Beijing opponents in the first--and last--full election for the local Legislative Council, or Legco. Champagne corks were popping amid the high-rises, and campaign workers were riding on each other's shoulders until early the next morning.

Maybe they didn't catch China's election-day reminder that the legislature would be disbanded on July 1, 1997. Just in case, the mainland repeated that warning the following day, adding that the elections had been "unfair and unreasonable." Then came the threats: "Hong Kong people have to pay for it," declared Cheng Kai-nam, secretary-general of a pro-China party. "They should have considered the consequences of voting for the democrats."

Harsh words, but not so surprising given the blunt message delivered to Beijing the previous day. The Legco elections were the Hong Kong voters' last chance to say, with a ballot, how they should deal with the giant neighbor that will take control of the British colony in 20 months. Surveys had predicted a mixed Legco, with representation of pro-Hong Kong democrats, candidates backed by China, and conservative businessmen. The idea was that Hong Kong's 6 million people, in their often practical way, would try to mollify China's fear of the democratic exercise by spreading the votes around. That theory proved wrong. The 921,000 voters who turned out--the largest number ever--had little use for Beijing's candidates. Says Martin Lee, an outspoken China critic whose Democratic Party won 19 of 60 seats, more than any other party: "They want legislators that can stand up for them."

China certainly had cause to be a sore loser. The democrats, a generic term that includes Lee's Democrats and others who believe Hong Kong's interests can be secured only by steady public pressure on China, did about as well as they could in the complicated election system, although they failed to win an absolute majority. With 29 seats, though, the democrats are still the largest alliance in Legco. Virtually all the democratic candidates, including those branded as "subversives" by Beijing, won their races. In contrast, the Beijing-backed Democratic Alliance for the Betterment of Hong Kong, or D.A.B., won only six of the 14 races it contested. Three high-profile D.A.B. candidates were losers, including chairman Tsang Yok-sing.

China's anger at the progress of democracy in Hong Kong dates to 1992, when Christopher Patten arrived as Governor and began broadening the franchise. China denounced his moves as contrary to the Basic Law, the post-1997 Hong Kong constitution approved by Britain and China. Though Legco will almost surely be scrapped in 1997, there is some hope in Hong Kong that China will reappoint many or even most of its recently elected members to some reconstituted body. Much depends on who will be in power in Beijing in 1997. If party hard-liners hold sway, predicts Norman Miners, senior lecturer in political science at Hong Kong University, "China will do what it wants with Hong Kong, and damn the consequences." With that in mind, commentators in Hong Kong have been straining to point out how relatively powerless--and unthreatening to China--Legco really is. It can criticize and even block moves by Patten, but it cannot introduce bills that involve spending. No one knows if the message has gone through, or whether China's leaders are waiting to see how the new Legco will act before they make up their minds.

With election euphoria finished, the biggest challenge facing Hong Kong's new legislators is their impending irrelevance. In January a body known as the Preparatory Committee, sanctioned by Britain and China, will start the transition to Chinese rule. China will select its members from Hong Kong citizens; its job will be to name a 400-person Selection Committee, which in turn will choose Hong Kong's future chief executive (Patten's replacement), a task that should be finished by the end of 1996. A leading contender is Anson Chan, Patten's second-in-command and the granddaughter of a Chinese war hero.

Meanwhile, "Patten is more or less in the process of repairing Britain's relationship with Beijing, so he will not want to rock the boat," says Hong Kong University history professor Ming Chan. "All Patten wants to do is to get out of Hong Kong clean. He is not a lame duck but a dead duck, and already his bones are being licked." This leaves more than a few people in Hong Kong confused. "I believe in democracy, but this isn't democracy," says Lottie Chau, a student who chose not to vote or even register. "Maybe it was just too late to introduce democracy, but the spirit of democracy has taken seed." The question is whether that seed will be allowed to grow long enough to blossom.

--Reported by Mary Binks, Sandra Burton and Lulu Yu/Hong Kong