Chapter Nineteen: The Mysterious Tang Xuejian

Zhu Lan had never intended to agree to releasing the gene optimization serum to the market. In China, there was virtually no regulation in this field—this was uncharted territory. Not just in China— even in the United States, research involving genes was limited to combining genetic formulas with plants. Any human trials would likely only be carried out on death row inmates.

Originally, Zhu Lan simply wanted to show the authorities another side of himself. If the government refused, he could ask for more, and then present other projects. The state’s approval caught Zhu Lan entirely by surprise.

But since permission had been granted to sell the gene optimization serum, Zhu Lan began preparing in earnest. He knew very well that genetic products attracted almost no interest in China. Gene engineering was regarded as something dangerous, both at the national and the civilian level. If he wanted to launch the serum domestically, there would be virtually no market; no one would dare use such a product.

So Zhu Lan decided to look abroad. Compared to China, foreign markets—especially Europe and America—were more accepting of gene products. In the West, scientists had even raised funds from wealthy patrons by promising to extend human life with genetic medicine. These wealthy investors weren’t fools; nine times out of ten, their money would never be recovered, but what they wanted was to send a signal: that there were talents to be found outside the establishment.

Zhu Lan’s goal now was to bring his gene optimization serum to Europe. He chose Europe over America because the former was more accessible. With America’s recent actions, Zhu Lan feared that if he were targeted by the wrong people in the US, he might not leave alive. The gene market was a brand-new frontier, and no one was blind to the lure of monopoly. Microsoft’s dominance over the internet had created a company that influenced countless lives. A new market was a goldmine, and anyone with sense would never let such an opportunity slip by.

Therefore, Zhu Lan didn’t choose America, but picked Europe as his testing ground for the gene optimization serum. Once Europe accepted it, Americans traveling between the two continents would surely catch wind of it; there would be no need to open the US market himself. He would simply wait for American businessmen to come knocking.

An even more important reason was that Europe had not yet regained its vitality. If someone offered money, as long as no taboos were breached, most European research institutes would not refuse. Preparation took time. Going to Europe required not only bringing a supply of the serum but, more crucially, hiding the virus.

After much deliberation, Zhu Lan secretly relocated the virus deeper underground. Using tools, he dug a tunnel and placed the virus beneath the road outside the warehouse. Afterward, he sealed the passage completely. No one in the world, except himself, knew where it was—unless someone excavated several thousand square meters of earth inside and outside the warehouse, it would never be found.

“Boss, word from Europe just came in!” Cheng Xue reported to Zhu Lan.

“Oh? What’s the result?”

“Out of seventeen biological research institutes we contacted, thirteen agreed, though their prices vary. The three British institutes all quoted over ten million euros!”

“Proud gentlemen,” Zhu Lan commented, gesturing for Cheng Xue to continue.

“The two French institutes quoted seven million and four million euros, respectively. Italy offered six point seven million, while Greece went as high as eight million. The four German institutes quoted three point two million, two point nine million, four point seven million, and one point eight million euros!”

“Which institutes refused?” Zhu Lan wasn’t ready to decide yet, but wanted to know about the refusals first.

The serum needed to be tested by a national research institute; Chinese results were meaningless to the world. Zhu Lan wanted a European institute’s report. Once he had that, all it would take was a hint, and interested parties would seek him out.

National research institutes were imposing, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t accept outside projects. After all, every country’s research budget was limited, sometimes shrinking year by year. Outside funding was always welcome—a simple job could bring in enormous income. As long as no secrets were involved, no country objected.

“Cambridge University’s research institute in the UK refused us, as did one in Switzerland, and two micro-science institutes in France.”

Zhu Lan nodded as he took the documents from Cheng Xue and looked them over.

After reading, Zhu Lan fell into thought. The lowest offer came from a German institute called Medebill. (Some names are entirely fictional, to avoid too much research.)

This institute, a commercial facility affiliated with a university, specialized in drug testing for pharmaceutical companies and sometimes worked for the German Medicines Agency. It was a fully commercial operation. Though not well-known in Europe, it was highly reputable.

“Contact Medebill Institute,” Zhu Lan instructed.

One point eight million euros was nearly twenty million yuan—a substantial sum. While Zhu Lan was wealthy, his funds weren’t limitless. Once the government’s billion was spent, he’d have to risk bringing items from movies to exchange for cash.

Of that billion, half had already been allocated. The land hadn’t actually cost anything—just a symbolic one yuan, per government orders. The city authorities would never have agreed otherwise, but there was no arguing with a central directive.

Of the five hundred million, three hundred and forty million would build the factory. Since the gene optimization serum was a biological gene medicine, it required a top-grade sterile facility—construction costs were ten or even a hundred times higher than standard factories. The remaining one hundred and sixty million would be used to finish the biotech tower.

The initial funds for the biotech tower were a loan from Luo Guoqiang; now, with government money, Zhu Lan immediately transferred the lot to the real estate company. Ironically, that company was none other than Shengtang Real Estate, a subsidiary of Shengtang Group.

Shengtang Real Estate was also building the factory—there simply wasn’t another suitable contractor.

“Didn’t you guarantee this wouldn’t happen? Why did it turn out like this?” In the Luoxue Company building, Tang Xuejian nearly roared.

“Second Miss…”

“Damn it, why? I want a satisfactory explanation!” Tang Xuejian demanded.

“Second Miss, we don’t really know what happened. What we do know is that Zhu Lan’s Illusion Technology seemed to have developed something, and it was stolen by a commercial spy, alerting the authorities. The government bypassed the city and gave Zhu Lan the land directly.”

“Don’t tell me that’s all?” Tang Xuejian’s gaze was icy as she stared at the woman across from her.

Sweat beaded on the woman’s forehead. “Second Miss, there’s nothing I can do. The secrecy is too strict; I can’t get near it. Not even the Master could find anything, if he tried.”

“But we do know one thing: Illusion Technology’s work is related to genetics. Recently, they recruited over thirty biology graduates from S City University—Professor Qin Min of S City University personally negotiated with the school.”

“Biology? That’s plausible—he did study that.” At this moment, Tang Xuejian had shed her usual socialite demeanor, replaced by the cold authority of a queen.

“Do we know which company the spy was working for?”

The woman nodded. “It caused a huge stir—so much so that even the province imposed restrictions. Later, we learned the spy was working for a Japanese company.”

“That serious? What on earth could it be to cause such an uproar?”

The woman shook her head. “We don’t have clearance. The few who do are keeping silent. As far as we know, only Zhu Lan himself and Illusion Technology’s general manager are privy to the secret. The others are untraceable, but our research suggests they’re military—navy, to be precise.”

“The navy? How did he get involved with the navy? Biology and the navy?” Tang Xuejian pondered the connection.

By rights, Tang Xuejian should have had no interest in Zhu Lan, yet all her recent actions suggested otherwise. Only she knew her true motives.

“Do we have anyone on the inside?” Tang Xuejian asked, looking up.

The woman nodded. “Three people, all transferred directly from Shengtang. Unfortunately, they haven’t accessed any core secrets. Illusion Technology’s internal security is extremely tight—staff can only move about in very restricted zones. Any attempt to go beyond is detected by security. There are cameras everywhere, more than in government agencies. Our people also found active-duty soldiers inside, all armed.”

“Zhu Lan, Zhu Lan, just what are you up to?” Tang Xuejian was more bewildered than ever.

According to the data, Zhu Lan couldn’t possibly have achieved all this. And yet, after a single month’s absence, she had lost all control over him.

Security, military collaboration—nothing made sense. How could such a drastic change happen in just a month?

Tang Xuejian’s head throbbed. “Tell our people to find a way in. Also, arrange a meeting with Zhu Lan for me—I need to sound him out, to see if he’s the one interfering with my plans!”