Chapter 16: Med-Ferry Acquisition (Part 7)

Chapter 16: The Med-Ferry Acquisition (VII)

On the first day of the conference, besides delivering a keynote speech at the main forum, Jing Hong also gave a presentation at a sub-forum. Zhou Chang had a similar schedule, except his sub-forum appearance was a panel discussion rather than a presentation.

In the evening, the conference organizers hosted a welcome dinner.

Jing Hong arrived a bit late, and people had already begun filling the seats around several tables.

A CEO from some company spotted Jing Hong from afar and immediately stood up, trying to curry favor: "CEO Jing! Over here! This table!"

Unexpectedly, the moment he said that, the entire dining hall fell into dead silence.

Everyone felt that this CEO had just shot himself in the foot!

Fanhai-Qinghui had been at each other's throats constantly, with endless rounds of feuding. Who didn't know that Jing Hong and Zhou Chang were like oil and water, rarely ever appearing together? At past events like this, Jing Hong and Zhou Chang always sat at separate tables, with Jing Hong surrounded by Fanhai-affiliated companies and Zhou Chang surrounded by Qinghui-affiliated ones.

But now? This CEO was himself sitting at the same table as Zhou Chang, and he actually dared to invite Jing Hong over?

Even more so—the only empty seat at the entire table just so happened to be right next to Zhou Chang!

Out of hospitality to their guests from afar, everyone had deferred the seats at the head of the table to several American CEOs. Zhou Chang sat next to them, with the CEO of "Weilai," another of the "Big Four," on the other side of the Americans. As for the CEO of "Xingyuan," he was at a different table nearby.

Because of all the mutual deferral before sitting down—"No, you sit, you sit!" "Ah, no, you sit!"—the only empty seat at the table now happened to be on Zhou Chang's left.

For a moment, all eyes in the dining hall fell on Jing Hong.

Everyone was waiting to see what Jing Hong would do next.

A young entrepreneur secretly sent a message to someone at his table—the famous meme from that sitcom: "Oh my god, this could affect my career.jpg."

Jing Hong pondered for a moment and decided it really wasn't worth sitting somewhere else in front of everyone and confirming the rumor of their mutual animosity—that would seem petty. More importantly, Zhou Chang had just protected him moments ago; otherwise, he would have banged his head on the table in front of everyone as the CEO of Fanhai. It wouldn't be right, either logically or emotionally, to go sit elsewhere now.

So Jing Hong smiled, got up, and walked toward the seat beside Zhou Chang.

Then, hitching up his trousers slightly, he sat down.

The dining hall remained dead silent, everyone staring as if they'd just witnessed a miracle.

Jing Hong could already imagine it—tomorrow morning, or even sooner, the media would publish a flood of headlines like "Jing Hong and Zhou Chang Rarely Share a Table After World Internet Conference!!!" and "The Historic Side-by-Side!!!" followed by analyses of the deeper meaning behind their actions.

This was the World Internet Conference, after all—journalists were everywhere in droves.

After sitting down, Zhou Chang gave a slight nod, and Jing Hong nodded back in acknowledgment. Then Jing Hong leisurely removed his cufflinks, set them aside, rolled his sleeves up a couple of folds to reveal a solid forearm, and sat with his arms folded, listening to the conversation with a relaxed expression and a hint of a smile—looking very much at ease at the dinner table.

Most of the CEOs at the table were local entrepreneurs who weren't proficient in English but couldn't very well speak only Chinese. So the job of entertaining the guests fell mainly on Jing Hong and Zhou Chang.

Jing Hong started by asking about what percentage of their business came from various products in China. Everyone chatted animatedly, with Jing Hong or Zhou Chang occasionally translating a sentence or two for the others, and relaying questions from the rest to their American "friends."

Sensing that their continued presence was making things awkward for the table, the foreign guests, once they'd eaten their fill, pleaded jet lag and bid farewell to their Chinese counterparts.

Everyone agreed to meet again tomorrow, all seeming very cordial with one another.

Once the foreigners had left, the mood at the table relaxed considerably.

Finally, someone brought up the Med-Ferry acquisition. He asked: "CEO Jing, CEO Zhou, may I ask—regarding the Med-Ferry acquisition, have Fanhai and Qinghui joined forces?"

"Yes, we have." Jing Hong still had his arms folded. "Fanhai and Qinghui each side gets what it wants."

Everyone chimed in: "Just as we suspected—"

But the CEO of "Weilai Group," another of the "Big Four," seemed to have a different opinion. He was somewhat older than Jing Haiping and Zhou Buqun, and liked to play the elder statesman in front of Jing Hong and Zhou Chang. His style was crude—or rather, thuggish—and in Jing Haiping's estimation, he was considered only slightly less "low-class" than Zhou Buqun.

Regarding the "low" factor, the outside world had long since made its assessment. Among the founders of the Big Four, Jing Haiping and the CEO of "Xingyuan" were the classic intellectual types—Jing Haiping even held the title of "Confucian businessman." Zhou Buqun and this "Weilai" CEO, on the other hand, were the classic thuggish types, having built their fortunes largely through swindling. For instance, they'd explicitly promise "free for life," but after users had been on the platform for a while and they'd crushed their competitors, users would discover they had to purchase "add-on services" or they'd be screwed over.

At this moment, this Weilai CEO, named Li Zhiyong, said to Jing Hong: "AI drug discovery companies... pfft! You young people just love these gimmicks, these bubbles! Too invested in things that are all hype and bubbles."

Jing Hong kept his arms folded and looked at him: "I trust my own instincts."

The other man still disagreed, shaking his head. As he tapped the table with his thick, stubby fingers, he lectured Jing Hong with a tone that said "I know best" and "you clearly want to learn from me," looking smug: "Drug discovery isn't that simple. Innovative drugs come in three types: me-too, me-better, and me-new—me-new is the hardest, requiring entirely new drug mechanisms and such. China basically does generics—wait for patents to expire, then copy! A few companies have me-too drugs, which are basically taking someone else's and tweaking it to get around the patent. Real drug development is no joke...! Americans have a saying: 'double ten'—successfully developing a new drug takes about ten years and costs about a billion US dollars! Now it's heading toward 'double twenty'—the costs and time are doubling. The uncertainty is enormous. And finding new mechanisms is incredibly hard! The big Western pharma companies have decades of accumulated experience. What do we in China have? It's even harder for us!" He spread his hands. "And besides, what Chinese businessman has the time or inclination for that? Grabbing the cash while you can is the real priority. China's market is huge—if you copy well enough, generics alone will keep you fed for a lifetime."

Clearly, he assumed Jing Hong didn't understand the subject and was giving him a lecture, in heavily accented, broken English. His whole demeanor said, "Confidence is fine for young people, but overconfidence is not."

"Is that so," Jing Hong said, still with his arms folded, smiling slightly. "I'm not so sure about that."

Everyone at the table turned to look at Jing Hong again.

Jing Hong said: "Pharmaceuticals are a vital industry. Western drug patents last at least twenty years, sometimes longer. That means the drugs we take now are at least twenty years behind what the West has. If we want more advanced ones, we have to buy imported drugs. But in recent years... it's clear that Western countries are becoming increasingly wary and defensive toward China—even hostile. In my view, a trade war could erupt at any moment. So... can we completely rely on Western exports? What if an extreme situation arises? What do we do then? We could tolerate delays in other things, but what about medicine? Are we just going to sit back and do nothing?"

Li Zhiyong: "..."

No one else dared to speak. Only Zhou Chang, tilting his head and propping his chin on his hand, watched Jing Hong with keen interest.

"And another thing," Jing Hong continued, "all those sky-high priced drugs—hasn't CEO Li noticed? The medical insurance fund is limited, after all. The only real way to solve the pricing problem is domestic production. America's labor costs and all the other expenses are what they are, and the exchange rate is what it is. Without domestic drugs, we have no say in pricing."

Finally, Jing Hong said: "CEO Li may not believe it, but I believe in the ambition and resolve of Chinese pharma companies."

Li Zhiyong was silent for a long moment.

After a while, he finally muttered: "Just look at CEO Jing's grand vision."

Though the words were "look at CEO Jing's grand vision," the meaning was "look at CEO Jing, so out of touch, like Marie Antoinette saying 'let them eat cake.'"

Jing Hong looked at him, then at the others at the table, and said: "We're all in the internet business. I know this sounds corny, but Fanhai genuinely believes it bears a responsibility."

Fanhai's AI business group was already working on "AI drug discovery," and this acquisition was meant to accelerate results.

Finding compounds is incredibly difficult—it takes decades of accumulated experience. Overtaking the competition in this field sounds like a pipe dream. But AI can simulate the synthesis process of compounds, potentially slashing the number of attempts needed, and drastically cutting both the time and money spent on discovery.

Finding compounds is hard—many things are hard. In comparison, writing code is the easy part.

Internet giants need to provide tools for the pharma industry and other sectors, helping them catch up to their Western counterparts as quickly as possible. This code is the accelerant.

The battles among the world's tech giants are no longer about a single product. Their tentacles reach into every industry—they provide support across every sector, offering systems and tools for everything from autonomous driving and smartphone operating systems to corporate financial systems, customer management systems, cloud services, and so on.

You could say these tech companies—big or small—need to prop up all of China. They can't afford to lose.

Of course, behind all this is burning through cash like crazy.

Fortunately, the market rewards are also huge when they succeed.

"CEO Zhou," another CEO asked Zhou Chang, "is that also why Qinghui wants to buy Med-Ferry?"

"No." Zhou Chang swirled the glass in his hand, his gaze meaningful. "I don't share your faith in the ambition and resolve of Chinese pharma companies. CEO Jing might be too idealistic."

"..." Everyone turned to Jing Hong again.

Jing Hong recalled a saying from Jing Haiping: People with ideals assume others have them too; people without them assume others don't either.

"No point debating this." Jing Hong said. "The future will tell—whether I'm right or CEO Zhou is right."

Zhou Chang didn't want to argue either. He signaled the waiter nearby to open a fresh bottle. "Alright, let's drink."

And with that, another round of drinking and toasting kicked off.

Jing Hong pinched the stem of his glass and raised it to his lips—only then did he realize something was off: this glass was Zhou Chang's—his own was sitting to his left.

Jing Hong glanced at Zhou Chang and found the latter watching him with keen amusement. Clearly, Zhou Chang had already noticed the mix-up.

Jing Hong set the glass back and asked, "Why didn't you give me a heads-up, Zhou?"

Zhou Chang replied, completely unfazed, "I didn't know."

Jing Hong was speechless.

The truth was, Zhou Chang genuinely didn't know. He wasn't lying.

Every toast had a purpose, every glass had a story, and the room was buzzing with high spirits.

Later, the two women at the table excused themselves and left the dining room, and the men left at the table loosened up. Some shook out cigarettes and lit them, asking Jing Hong, "Jing, want one?"

Jing Hong said, "I don't smoke." As he spoke, a barely noticeable frown flickered across his brow.

The others turned to Zhou Chang. "How about you, Zhou?"

Zhou Chang looked away from Jing Hong and said flatly, "Let's not smoke."

The others were clearly caught off guard. After a brief awkward moment, those who hadn't lit up set their cigarettes aside, while the ones who had already lit considered it—knowing better than to cross Zhou Chang—and stubbed them out.

Zhou Chang was a master at reading people. After that brief awkward moment passed, he turned back to the original speaker and asked, "So, pre-positioned warehousing—then what?" His gaze stayed intent.

The man immediately dove back into his product idea, relieved that Zhou Chang wasn't actually bothered, and the atmosphere warmed up again.

They kept drinking until eleven. Since they had a big conference the next day, the remaining guests finally dispersed.

"Jing." Just as Jing Hong was getting up to leave, Zhou Chang spoke up unexpectedly.

Leaning back in his chair with his long legs crossed at the knee, he unlocked his phone with his fingerprint and asked, in a deliberately casual tone, "Let's swap contact info?"

Everyone at the table looked over again.

Everyone knew that Jing Hong and Zhou Chang had never added each other's contacts—which was practically unheard of.

"…" Jing Hong naturally wouldn't publicly humiliate him, but he also didn't want to have much to do with him. After a pause, he pulled out his phone and said, "I'll scan your code."

And just like that, they finally added each other.

After Jing Hong left, for the first time in his life, Zhou Chang wanted to check someone's Moments.

Ever since the feature came out, Zhou Chang had never once felt the urge to look at that thing. As mentioned before, he had no interest in the day-to-day lives of thousands of people.

This was a first for him.

He didn't even wait to leave the restaurant before opening Jing Hong's Moments, but there was nothing to see.

The whole page was empty, just a black header and a square avatar on the right.

Other than that, there was just a gray line down the middle of the screen.

Jing Hong had never posted a single thing?

Zhou Chang was puzzled. Just in case, he opened his browser and looked up what a single gray line in Moments meant.

Well, he got his answer.

Jing Hong had blocked him.

Author's note:

Just so you know, the story is set in 2017! The situation CEO Weilai describes is from around 2017.