Chapter Nine: Choosing the First Product

A week passed, and Zhu Lan had been expecting that group to return, but there was no sign of them. Over the week, Zhu Lan's company finally found its footing, growing from thirteen to twenty-seven people. Aside from three new women hired for cleaning and cooking, all the new additions were in the marketing department, working hard to fulfill the orders Zhu Lan assigned.

Despite this growth, the company only felt a little busier than before, as many of the staff were traveling all over the country. Zhu Lan’s expenditures were astonishing—of the three million allocated for renovations, over four hundred thousand had already been spent, including office equipment. Market research, travel stipends, and transportation costs had swallowed up several hundred thousand more.

Sitting in her own office, Zhu Lan frowned as she looked over the preliminary market research results brought by Lan Tianxin.

Zhu Lan’s office was in Warehouse No. 1. A crossbeam had been added in the middle, and with the renovations, the space was enormous. Zhu Lan had even indulged herself by buying several bookshelves and spending over eighty thousand on more than a thousand books, which, along with a few potted trees and flowers, made the office aesthetically pleasing.

Lan Tianxin sat across from Zhu Lan, feeling anxious. Although Zhu Lan had assigned her this task, the week’s worth of research made her uneasy; she felt she hadn’t done enough.

With the internet so advanced, much could be found online—procurement and sales figures for major companies, for example. The numbers varied greatly, but at least it provided a rough estimate.

Zhu Lan set down the report, her fingers tapping restlessly on the desk.

Though the report was incomplete, it already gave Zhu Lan a substantial understanding of the biotech market. After graduating and quickly establishing herself at an advertising company, Zhu Lan’s success had much to do with her habit of deep, multi-faceted analysis.

“You can go now,” Zhu Lan said, looking up at Lan Tianxin, then fell into deep thought.

Seeing Zhu Lan’s state, Lan Tianxin nodded and quietly left.

Zhu Lan paid no attention to Lan Tianxin’s departure—nor did she need to.

From the report, Zhu Lan realized there was no path left into the market for her.

She didn’t want to compete for the tiny market shares, and the larger shares were already monopolized by a handful of national pharmaceutical companies. Zhu Lan knew this well; upon graduation, she had applied to those very companies, only to be dismissed as beneath their notice.

Back then, Zhu Lan had done her research, hoping to join them, only to be forced by the harshness of reality to choose an unrelated field—advertising.

“To cut off a man’s livelihood is as grave as killing his parents,” Zhu Lan muttered helplessly, setting the report aside.

With her current abilities, she couldn’t compete with the industry giants, nor did she have the capital—well, she did, but couldn’t reveal it.

“Should I give up?” Zhu Lan stood up and paced in thought. The company had been running for half a month without a single cent in revenue. At most, in three months, Fantasy Technologies would be declared a failure.

She stopped walking, her expression shifting rapidly, and finally collapsed into her chair as if paralyzed. “Do I really have to take this step?”

From the moment she acquired the Fantasy System, Zhu Lan hadn’t stopped planning for a single day. She had given up on many ideas: virtual reality, hover technology, titanium alloys, micro-reactors, and a host of other cutting-edge breakthroughs. These were her original ambitions.

But she soon realized that, even with the technology, she couldn’t manufacture it herself, and even if she could, there was no guarantee she could bring it to market. Each of these technologies touched on national security. If anyone found out she possessed such knowledge, she’d be summoned for “tea” in no time.

The state—a daunting concept. Although China wasn’t the world’s number one power, in some respects no other country could compare. With the strongest land army, China could, at certain times, act at any cost. No matter how powerful she became, it would be meaningless in the face of national might. More importantly, now she had no escape route. The word “abroad” flashed through her mind, bringing a sensation akin to death—there was simply no way out for her.

Now, the biotech market was closed to her. Not that there was no opportunity at all—she could still make money, but not on the scale she wanted. Zhu Lan wanted to seize the market quickly.

At first, Zhu Lan had planned to focus on medical devices. The Fantasy System meant she could acquire equipment others couldn’t, but she soon realized this path was a dead end. The medical device business was all about connections—every major player had powerful networks and smoothed every level of the bureaucracy. She had none. She could manage the business side, but she had no governmental ties, and in this industry, you needed at least a provincial-level background.

For the next half month, aside from managing company affairs, Zhu Lan spent her time in the warehouse materializing the things she needed.

She had already decided on her first product.

Since there was no place for her in the existing biotech market, she would carve out a new niche and develop an entirely new product.

There were many future technologies, but self-enhancement was always paramount—the most famous being genetic serums.

That’s what Zhu Lan intended to make. She planned to go all in and collaborate directly with the military, convinced that the existence of a genetic serum would propel her company forward at lightning speed.

Genetic serum—this technology for enhancing the human genome was not difficult for Zhu Lan to obtain, especially since she specialized in this area. What attracted her most were those from Marvel films: the gene-enhancing serum from “Spider-Man” or “Captain America,” both incomparably powerful.

Of course, Zhu Lan would never release a complete version to the market—not even a tenth of its potency. That would create terrifying individuals, and Zhu Lan believed there were plenty of smart people in the world who could reverse-engineer the serum.

She would have to include a genetic lock in the serum. Fortunately, this was a concept explored in sci-fi films, even if only in space operas.

Knock, knock, knock!

In half a month, Zhu Lan had completely transformed the area behind her. Each room was separated by frosted glass, forming a series of interconnected spaces—a sizable laboratory. The ceiling had been remodeled and an extra sealing layer added, turning it into a dust-free environment. Though the warehouse was already huge, Zhu Lan had workers excavate beneath it, creating a laboratory four and a half meters high.

There were nine rooms in total, each filled with precision instruments. Anyone in the field who saw this would be astounded: despite its simplicity, the equipment was top-notch.

In the middle of calibrating equipment, Zhu Lan was interrupted by the knocking.

She left the lab and found Qin Shi waiting outside. “What is it?”

“Boss, that group is back—but we’ve already subdued them.”

Zhu Lan frowned and headed out.

Outside Warehouse No. 3, Yu Dongming and several others were surrounding a dozen men. Parked nearby were two vans.

“Who are you people?” Zhu Lan asked calmly.

“Kid, you’re the boss here, aren’t you? Be smart and let us go, or you’ll be risking your dog life!”

“Hmph! Beat them!” Zhu Lan’s eyes turned cold as she fixed her gaze on the man who’d spoken.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Yu Dongming and the others raised their electric batons and began to strike the group.

“Ahhh—!”

“Damn it—!”

“Stop hitting us—!”

The sensation of being shocked was not pleasant. At first, the group had cursed, but soon they were begging for mercy. However, without Zhu Lan’s order, Yu Dongming and his team wouldn’t stop. The batons’ voltage had been adjusted to ensure no one would be killed, merely made extremely uncomfortable.

“Enough!” Zhu Lan called out when she judged it sufficient.

Approaching the man who had spoken earlier—now limp from the shocks—Zhu Lan asked, “Speak. Who are you?”

“N-n-no… nobody…” the man stammered.

Zhu Lan smiled, took a device resembling a pistol from another man’s belt, and waved it in front of him. “Do you know what this is?”

Li Sanhan, a local, had dropped out of school before finishing middle school and spent seven years mixing with the underworld. He’d carved out a modest territory—unfortunately, only the North Suburbs. Li Sanhan had practically given up until half a month ago, when he’d heard from his men that someone had opened a company in the North Suburbs’ Greenwoods area. Used to collecting mere hundreds in “protection fees,” he was sure a company would be worth thousands. That would beat shaking down households any day.

Li Sanhan had gone straight to the Greenwoods with his men. At first, he’d thought of collecting fees directly, but when he learned the company had five security guards—apparently ex-military—he hesitated. To secure this big score, he decided to teach the company a lesson first, to make his intentions clear.

Things went smoothly, but then something happened in the South Suburbs, and Li Sanhan went to help out there. By the time he remembered about this company, half a month had passed.

He never expected things to get so out of hand, and now he was filled with regret.

Li Sanhan shook his head. The device looked like a gun, but not quite. Still, he had a good idea what it was.

“This is a stun gun. It emits a powerful flash that can daze you even from several meters away. This is the real deal, not the cheap stuff you find on the market. If I put this to your crotch, do you know what would happen? Frankly, I’m rather curious myself.”

Li Sanhan’s eyes contracted. He’d heard of the effects of such a powerful flash.

“Boss, I’m just a nobody—this has nothing to do with me!” Li Sanhan wailed, playing the victim, almost ready to claim he had an eighty-year-old mother and a three-year-old child at home.