Though it was 5 a.m. in Hong Kong, lights were burning everywhere. Residents, who normally like to begin the day of moneymaking as refreshed as possible, had been up all night, squinting at their television sets to see history in the making. Among the viewers were the mother and seven sisters of Windsurfer Lee Lai-shan, 25, from Hong Kong's Cheung Chau island. A dozen time zones away, Lee was skimming across the waves of the Atlantic near Savannah, Georgia, 320 km east of Atlanta, in pursuit of an Olympic gold medal. When she sailed past the final marker in first place, her family whooped with joy in front of their TV set. Lee's teammate and fiance Sam Wong Tak-sum, 30, rushed to embrace her as she stepped onto the dock. Then Lee ran past the waiting TV crews to a telephone. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she shouted halfway around the world, "Mom, I won the gold medal!"

The moment was emotional as well for most of Hong Kong's 6 million other residents. Lee, nicknamed "San San" (an affectionate shortening of Lai-shan), had won the colony's first Olympic medal ever--and, strictly speaking, its last. After 150 years of British control, the territory will revert to China next July 1 and will compete in the 2000 Games at Sydney as "Hong Kong China."

Like Hong Kong's rise from sleepy entrepot to global financial center, Lee's voyage to victory has not been without its doldrums and an occasional headwind. Her career got an early start. She was 12 when an uncle who owned a sail shop put her on a Windsurfer in calm waters around Cheung Chau. He taught her how to balance herself on the board and how to pivot the sail to catch the wind. More important, he taught her to read the sea and anticipate which way the wind would blow--not bad metaphors for the skills required to survive in the shadow of mainland China. While other kids decorated their bedroom walls with posters of Cantonese pop singers or movie hunks, Lee papered hers with images of sailboats. She loved hitting the water, not her school books. "She was unfocused," explains younger sister Ivy. Except on the water. Lee began competing internationally at 17, and was good enough to make Hong Kong's Olympic team in 1992, the first year of women's sailboard competition.

But after finishing a disappointing 11th at Barcelona, she nearly hung up her board. "I thought I was no good at this sport," she said. "I thought I should quit." Hong Kong Olympic officials lavished attention on the colony's table-tennis and badminton players, cyclists and divers, and seemed uninterested in a sport with such a short pedigree. Occasionally even Lee's sisters questioned her devotion to long, lonely training sessions on the waters of Stanley, a nearby port town. She stayed with it, though. An intensified regimen--three days on the water, three days in the gym--along with her engagement to Sam, whom she had met when both joined Hong Kong's national team, lifted Lee out of her funk. Between 1993 and '95, she placed in the top five in championships in Japan, Canada, Greece and South Africa. This year in Haifa, Israel, she came in second.

In the strong currents of Wassaw Sound, off Savannah, Lee needed all her skills and a little luck to beat defending champion Barbara Kendall of New Zealand. Lee arrived in Savannah six weeks ahead of most of the other sailors to scout weather conditions and formulate a strategy. She found a good one. In the crucial eighth race last week, in light winds and smooth green seas, Lee stayed close to the buoys marking the course. Kendall steered wide, searching for a gust to blow her to victory. But Lee had guessed right and needed only a modest puff to pull away from Kendall and win the gold. "She really deserves this," said a gracious Kendall.

Back on dry land, still wearing the trademark hot-pink barrettes that hold back her thick, dark hair, Lee was beaming as Hong Kong officials fell over one another to place congratulatory phone calls: Governor Christopher Patten, financial secretary Donald Tsang, even officials of the local transit system, who promised her free subway travel for life. Before the Olympics, her earnings from her sport would barely buy a ride on the Star Ferry. "Money isn't everything," she had told her mother Fung-choi, a housewife. (Lee's father died when she was 17.) "I'm doing this because it makes me happy."

Now it will also make her rich. Lee almost immediately racked up more than $1 million in award and endorsement commitments from such sources as the Hong Kong Sports Institute. Zest soap and dozens of other companies, including Vitasoy, maker of a popular soy-milk drink, eagerly queued up to sign deals with her. She plans to stay put in Hong Kong after '97 and represent the team in the '98 Asian Games. She has yet to decide whether she'll defend her Olympic title in Sydney in 2000. As she watched her colony's colors travel up the mast and God Save the Queen was played to honor a Hong Kong Olympian for the last time, she thought of her mother again. "Now maybe she can get some sleep," Lee said. "I know I will."