Chapter Thirty-Five: An Ambiguous Attitude

Murong Yanhong merely nodded, then took something from her bag and placed it before Zhu Lan.

Zhu Lan frowned, not bothering to ask what it was. He simply picked it up and flipped through it.

When he finished, his expression grew grave. After a long silence, Zhu Lan looked up at this woman called Murong Yanhong, and there was not the slightest trace of disdain in his eyes; only solemnity remained.

“Is this what you all intend as well?” Zhu Lan asked, his tone heavy as he glanced at Li Hongjin.

Li Hongjin smiled. “The military has no say in these matters.”

Li Hongjin did not elaborate, but the military indeed would not get involved—such had been stipulated since the founding of the nation. That meant the rest was up to the Nanhai Development Group.

If that was the case, things would be much simpler.

“I decline your proposal,” Zhu Lan tossed the document onto the table, grinning at Murong Yanhong.

Murong Yanhong remained impassive, as if she had already anticipated this outcome—or perhaps as if she were surprised by it.

“Do you rely on your company, or on your own special position?” she asked, her voice cool and unreadable.

“Neither,” Zhu Lan shook his head, denying both.

“I rely only on myself. Don’t speak to me of your background. The Nanhai Development Group may be impressive, but there are entities in this sea far greater than you. If you want this at the price you’ve offered, all I need do is let word slip, and the government will not favor you—regardless of what your board decides.”

Murong Yanhong looked at Zhu Lan with a hint of surprise. The price offered by Nanhai Development Group was insultingly low—one million for exclusive Asian rights! If not for Li Hongjin’s presence, Zhu Lan would likely have had them thrown out.

One million could barely buy a single dose of the Gene Optimization Serum—far less than black market rates. And yet the Nanhai Development Group thought to secure Asian rights for that sum. Zhu Lan wondered what madness had seized those who made such a preposterous decision.

Murong Yanhong had expected Zhu Lan’s refusal, but not the decisiveness with which it came, without a hint of hesitation. It was as if he cared nothing for Nanhai Development Group’s power.

To have become general manager of Nanhai Development Group at forty, Murong Yanhong was no ordinary woman. Moreover, as the group was majority state-owned, she could at times draw upon state intelligence.

In the current global landscape, war was no longer an option; commerce was the true battlefield. Enterprises that could influence or aid national interests could receive state support. Nanhai Development Group itself had been created to vie for control of South Sea resources; though less than a year old, it had acquired resources rivaled only by the nation’s largest conglomerates.

A million was a beggar’s pittance. Even the Canglong Group from the capital would not dare name such a price. Zhu Lan was keen to know what Nanhai Development Group thought justified such an offer.

“If that’s the case, there’s nothing more to discuss,” Zhu Lan said resolutely.

Murong Yanhong nodded. “Understood. I will inform the board of your decision.”

“Oh? Is there something else?” Zhu Lan inquired.

Murong Yanhong’s demeanor grew serious. She drew out an ID and presented it to Zhu Lan. “Now, I speak to you as a representative of the Ministry of Commerce.”

“Ministry of Commerce—Deputy Director of the Ninth Foreign Affairs Division—Murong Yanhong,” Zhu Lan read from the identification.

“That’s correct. I’m with the Ministry of Commerce. Now, let’s negotiate regarding Fantasy Technology’s current issues.”

“Negotiate?” Zhu Lan frowned, a sense of foreboding welling within him.

Murong Yanhong nodded. “The issue you’re facing is no longer a simple one. Look at this report.” She took out another document.

Zhu Lan read it. When he finished, he went silent. The report revealed that 367 companies had contacted Fantasy Technology, whereas his own reception desk had recorded only 87. That meant there were 280 companies he knew nothing of.

What concerned Zhu Lan even more was that the report not only included the 87 he was aware of, but also provided detailed profiles, as if carefully filtered.

Of the 87, only 19 were foreign companies, 36 were joint ventures, and among the remaining 26, 11 were state-owned enterprises, leaving just 15 privately held—Saint Tang Group among them.

“What does this mean?” Zhu Lan waved the report, demanding an explanation from Murong Yanhong.

“I won’t belabor the matter of the Gene Optimization Serum. Its implications may be beyond your full grasp, but you surely have some idea.”

Zhu Lan nodded, signaling her to continue.

“In simple terms, the state seeks to control the degree of access to this market.”

“The degree of access?” Zhu Lan echoed.

Murong Yanhong nodded. “You are not yet privy to those levels, and even if I explained in detail, it would remain unclear to you. You need only understand that the Gene Optimization Serum market requires state regulation.”

“Regulation? To maximize value for domestic enterprises, I suppose?” Zhu Lan had begun to understand.

Many foreign companies faced myriad restrictions in China, giving rise to joint ventures—where a Chinese citizen or firm would establish a new entity to enjoy domestic benefits. Similarly, Chinese state-owned firms had faced heavy constraints abroad, in Europe, America, Japan, South Korea, and so on, and had adopted joint ventures as well.

Murong Yanhong’s meaning was now clear: the state intended to keep control of the Gene Optimization Serum within companies with Chinese backgrounds.

“Is this the official stance of the state?” Zhu Lan asked.

Murong Yanhong paused, looking at Zhu Lan. “Yes—and no.”

“What do you mean?” Zhu Lan pressed.

Murong Yanhong only shook her head.

Zhu Lan was puzzled. Yes, and no—what could it mean?

He looked to Li Hongjin, but Li Hongjin merely sipped his tea, not sparing Zhu Lan a glance, as if the matter were none of his concern. Indeed, the military could not intervene.

“I’ll consider it,” Zhu Lan replied, unwilling to be too categorical without fully understanding her words. Though unafraid and holding strong cards of his own, Zhu Lan had grown up here. He would not turn against his country unless absolutely forced.

Murong Yanhong had anticipated such a response. “Here is the list. If you decide, call me.” She produced a thinner document and placed a plain white calling card on the table.

“General, let’s go,” she said.

Li Hongjin nodded. “Since the discussion is concluded, let’s leave.” He rose then suddenly turned, saying mysteriously, “There are some things you may pursue boldly. With the military behind you, no one can truly threaten you.” With that cryptic remark, he strode out.

Murong Yanhong shook her head in resignation and followed.

Zhu Lan watched them depart, deep in thought.

Murong Yanhong’s words, and Li Hongjin’s as well, were layered with meaning—hints within hints.

He sat there, not bothering to look at the list on the table, nor to resume designing his base, but pondering the true intent behind their words.

And Li Hongjin’s parting remark—what did it mean?

Zhu Lan considered countless possibilities before reaching a likely conclusion: there were factions among the nation’s leaders—perhaps two, perhaps three, perhaps more.

The debate had existed since Fantasy Technology first submitted the Gene Enhancement Serum. Opening the market to Gene Optimization Serum and letting Fantasy Technology grow was the outcome of internal struggles at the top, as was the current issue of distribution rights.

A few months ago, little was known of the Gene Optimization Serum, but now, months later, Gene Enhancement Serum had surely made significant progress, and the state understood the product well. Gene Optimization Serum was a pan-biological gene agent—its efficacy beyond doubt.

The feedback from the European market was certainly known to the state. Perhaps the highest political echelons were indifferent, but those holding the purse strings would understand its true import.

In China, many enterprises are joint ventures between officials and businessmen; such firms are always prioritized for major projects. The market for Gene Optimization Serum was self-evidently immense—even if its effects amounted to only a tenth of what Fantasy Technology claimed in Europe, its value would still be staggering.

China has 1.4 billion people, and nearly 2 billion across Asia. The number who could afford the Gene Optimization Serum was close to ten million. Even at a price of only ten thousand per dose, the market would be worth hundreds of billions; globally, with just twenty or thirty percent of eligible buyers, the direct value would approach a trillion.

And beyond the market, there was its political utility.

It took Zhu Lan an entire afternoon to grasp this point.

“Truly, without officials there is no business; without business, there is no guile; without guile, one is no true person,” Zhu Lan sighed helplessly.

Though he had seemed indifferent of late, only he knew the truth of his predicament.

He had been investigating the incident in the Middle East, as had the authorities; but in the end, only a handful of shadowy figures had been identified, all Americans, and they were impossible to track down.

The state would not devote vast resources to protecting him, no matter how much value he created.

Thus, Zhu Lan felt his safety was unguaranteed.

On one hand, he refused everyone’s offers, clinging to his distribution rights; this, he hoped, would tempt the greedy to act against him. The military would never let him be dragged off to prison, and this would serve as a deterrent to those who had hunted him in the Middle East, as well as to domestic companies or organizations considering foul play.

To oppose the Chinese military, one would have to be as formidable as Uncle Sam himself.

For those who were strong? Hundreds of Chinese warships patrolled the surrounding seas, and escape was impossible by air or land. For those attempting softer methods, Zhu Lan simply refused to see anyone, rendering all their schemes futile.