Pharmaceutical Negotiator - Chapter 4

Outside, under a shadow, lights were dotted.

Qi An had already showered and was sprawled on the bed wrapped in a bath towel. The light scent of lemon-scented shower gel and pomegranate flower-scented body lotion mixed and permeated around her. The center of the bed dipped slightly, and the soft down comforter lightly covered her legs.

Qi An comfortably flipped over, scrolling on her phone with one hand.

The screen showed Zhang Sitan’s WeChat Moments.

Around nine o’clock, Zhang Sitan finally accepted Qi An’s friend request. Qi An guessed that Zhang Sitan must have just finished washing up and was lying in bed at that time, dealing with WeChat messages.

After Zhang Sitan accepted her request, Qi An first clicked into her Moments. Everything was visible. She didn’t post very frequently, maybe once every one or two weeks, but since she started posting in 2018, the total number was quite large.

Qi An scrolled all the way to the bottom, intending to read slowly from the oldest posts upward.

Zhang Sitan’s Moments had a pleasing layout, usually just a few simple words accompanied by a nine-grid photo collage in a unified color scheme. The content mainly consisted of beautiful photos, landscape pictures, and small scenes from daily life. Occasionally, there were a few more casual complaints, and she would also repost content from medical public accounts.

Qi An really liked this kind of Moments, and she found Zhang Sitan’s Moments particularly appealing.

As she hesitated about whether to send a message to Zhang Sitan, a message from Zhang Sitan popped up.

“May I invite the beautiful lady to stroll around the nearby pharmacies with me? I’d like to understand the situation.” It was a very ordinary sentence, and Qi An could imagine Zhang Sitan’s serious expression as she typed it.

“Yes, yes, of course, when?” Qi An switched to the message interface.

“How about tomorrow evening?”

“Great, great.”

Zhang Sitan did not reply again. Qi An clicked back into her Moments. She had exited just now, so now she had to start scrolling down from the top again.

Qi An was too lazy to scroll, so she decided to look from the top down.

Then she saw Zhang Sitan’s latest post.

The caption was a small goodnight emoji, and the photo was the one Qi An had taken of Zhang Sitan on the wooden bridge earlier today. Zhang Sitan was slightly to the right of the frame, smiling with curved eyes towards the camera. Her hair was loose behind her, and the light revealed some slightly upturned fine strands. To the left of the frame were pink flowers and a red-roofed house.

Qi An clicked on the picture, zoomed in a bit, and looked at Zhang Sitan’s eyes.

Her slightly long eyes had eyeliner on them. The earth-toned eyeshadow was very light, just adding a touch of color to her makeup. The lower eyelid fat worked well with her upper eyelid, forming a crescent moon shape when she smiled.

Qi An’s own eyes were very pretty, big and expressive. But she still felt that Zhang Sitan’s eyes were the most captivating; when she looked at someone, they were always very alluring, drawing people in to listen to her speak.

Qi An saw Qi Shenli’s like and comment below: “Sitan is so beautiful.” Qi An couldn’t help but smile; she was the one who took this photo for Sister Sitan.

After liking the first Moment, she looked at the following posts one by one, and Qi An felt that Zhang Sitan was even more charming. Looking at her Moments, you could tell she must really love life and be good at discovering the small beautiful things around her. Moreover, Qi An hadn’t expected Zhang Sitan’s life to be so rich: running, swimming, yoga, and she also shared some niche songs. Her occasional little complaints were also particularly cute.

Qi An felt like she had discovered a more three-dimensional Zhang Sitan. She saved some very stunning photos and added all the songs she shared to her playlist.

She made up her mind: from today on, she was going to worship Zhang Sitan.

Qi An tossed and turned in bed, but Zhang Sitan had already fallen asleep early.

She had deliberately delayed accepting the friend request.

She had various groups for her Moments, but she put Qi An in the group that could see all her posts.

It wasn’t because she trusted her, but because Qi An was useful.

Her mother, Qi Shenli, was a big entrepreneur; her father, Qi Zhiguo, had made great achievements in pharmaceutical research and development.

Qi An’s tenure as an assistant wouldn’t be long. Zhang Sitan hoped she could leave a deep impression on Qi An.

So, she deliberately waited until late at night to agree to the friend request. She knew that Qi An must be free by then and would definitely check her Moments. Even if she didn’t scroll down, she would certainly see the first post, which was the photo Qi An had taken of her.

Zhang Sitan always slept well; she fell asleep soon after putting down her phone.

The next day, she woke up naturally, tied her hair into a high ponytail, and went out for a run.

Tall trees lined the sidewalk outside the hotel, forming a stretch of green that cast a shadow on the ground, somewhat blocking the sun.

There weren’t many people on the road. Zhang Sitan, dressed in a white tracksuit, stood out particularly vividly against the backdrop of the green trees.

While running, she thought about her plan for the day: in the evening, she would go to nearby pharmacies with Qi An for research. Before going, she needed to compile a list of medications related to spinal diseases, focusing not only on drug reserves and ingredients but also on the market orientation behind these reserves and the underlying depth of demand.

Zhang Sitan privately wanted to pay attention to the distribution status of Taiyong Group’s drugs.

Last year, Taiyong Group launched a new drug primarily for poliomyelitis infection—the Red Tablet. Whether it was its originality, cost-effectiveness, or the twenty-plus years of sunk research costs by Qi Zhiguo alone, this drug was set to become a hot topic. However, since the product launch conference last year, Taiyong Group had not followed up with promotion or put it into production.

Qi Shenli was secretive about it, only saying that further consideration was needed. Zhang Sitan suspected that there was a problem with the drug itself. But seeing Qi Shenli’s proud expression every time she talked about the drug, she felt that the drug didn’t seem to have a problem.

There was very little information about the Red Tablet online. The main ingredient column only listed Bionics Sodium Injection.

Bionics Sodium was a copy of Nusinersen Sodium Injection, essentially putting a near-identical shell on it for chain production, but the cost was several times lower than Nusinersen. The efficacy was similar, but the cost was low such a good thing usually had a catch.

Now, Bionics Sodium was completely bought out by Taeyong Group, with no public information disclosed. Zhang Sitan had no particular sensational curiosity she just felt that if the Red Tablet was truly a good drug and could be introduced to the market, it would certainly be a good thing for some patient groups. But if there really were problems, starting with Bionics Sodium, and if by chance the problems were solved, then everyone would be happy.

With this thought, she had already run three kilometers. She stretched her shoulders, preparing to walk back to the hotel for some stretching exercises.

The road was lush and green. Zhang Sitan noticed that Qingdao’s mornings were always like they were covered in water droplets. The misty sky made the green trees appear even denser.

She couldn’t resist picking up her phone to take a picture.

The frame was full of green leaves, and through the faint gaps, you could see the clear blue sky and the morning light.

Zhang Sitan casually opened her Moments, pressed send, with the caption: “Summer feels unreal, like a painting.”

Immediately after she posted it, the page displayed “1 new message.” The profile picture was a pink and tender Q-version cartoon girl Qi An’s profile picture.

The page then changed to “2 new messages.” Zhang Sitan clicked in. One was a like from Qi An, and the other was Qi An’s comment with a small leaf emoji.

Zhang Sitan exited WeChat, her mood lifted by the greenery in front of her. Her phone vibrated in her hand. Zhang Sitan opened it again; it was a WeChat message from Qi An: “Sister Sitan, have you eaten breakfast? What do you want to eat? I’ll bring it over.”

Zhang Sitan smiled faintly at the corner of her mouth, thinking of the pale green figure on the other end of the phone, and patiently replied: “I haven’t eaten. Do you have niandoubao (sticky bean buns) here?”

Soon another message came: “Is niandoubao the same as a red bean paste bun?”

Zhang Sitan internally replied “No,” but typed on her phone: “It’s okay, just buy red bean paste buns.”

The other side sent an “OK” animated emoji, a little dog bouncing up and down with a large “OK” on one side of the screen.

Zhang Sitan turned off her phone and quickened her pace, feeling the fine sweat on her forehead gradually cool and subtly dissipate under the green canopy.

The sunshine in May could not yet be called warm; it was just a golden spread that made one’s eyes bright.

Back at the hotel, Zhang Sitan first took a cool shower, then slipped on a silk dress, casually twisted up her hair, and sat down at the computer. The time arranged with Qi An was in the evening. She had no desire to put on makeup now, so Zhang Sitan worked on compiling the spreadsheet with a bare face.

The medication spreadsheet was more complicated than a general one. Zhang Sitan carefully screened it, highlighting the main ingredients.

While working on the spreadsheet, the hotel doorbell suddenly rang. Zhang Sitan knew it was Qi An. She shuffled in her slippers to open the door for her.

At the door, Qi An held a bag of red bean paste buns, about three inside by estimation, and a bowl of hot porridge.

She was dressed very simply today, in a white set and white sneakers, making the rainbow-colored socks on her feet particularly noticeable.

Qi An held out the buns and porridge, her tone lively: “Sister Sitan, breakfast is here!”

Zhang Sitan took the breakfast, looked at the small person standing outside the door, and all she thought was “breakfast is delivered, hurry up and go, breakfast is delivered, hurry up and go.” But, accustomed to being polite, she blurted out: “Would you like to come in and sit for a while?”

Then, watching Qi An’s expectant eyes and her foot stepping in, a death-like smile floated in her heart: Don’t you understand what a social formality is?!

Well, okay, it’s a bit too much to treat someone purely as a tool if you take the breakfast and then make them leave when they came all the way to deliver it in the morning.

Zhang Sitan pouted slightly and sat back down at the computer desk, pulling a red bean paste bun from the bag and taking a bite.

Qi An sat on a chair next to her, watching Zhang Sitan, observing how her nose curved into a very smooth line, silently praising Zhang Sitan’s profile for the eight-hundredth time.

The morning sunlight was slanted, forming a ribbon that had wrapped around several times before gently falling on her shoulder.

Zhang Sitan actually felt Qi An watching her intently out of the corner of her eye, feeling her burning gaze.

Her eyes remained fixed on the computer screen. With one hand on the mouse and the other holding the bun, she asked Qi An: “Don’t you have anything to do today?”

Qi An had been thinking about going to the pharmacy with Zhang Sitan all night, so when she heard the question, she automatically assumed Zhang Sitan was asking about the pharmacy plan.

She waved her hand dismissively and said: “It’s fine, it’s fine. We can go to the pharmacy after you’re done being busy.”

Zhang Sitan raised an eyebrow internally. This means she plans to stay here all day!

She turned her head slightly, swallowing the last bite of the bun: “But I still have to make a spreadsheet; I’ll be busy until the evening before we go to the pharmacy.”

“It’s okay, you just focus on your work, don’t mind me. I’ll scroll on my phone here for a bit.”

Qi An felt a little happy, thinking Zhang Sitan was really considerate of her, even explaining that she was busy with work for fear of making her wait anxiously.

At this moment, Zhang Sitan was internally sneering. No wonder Qi Shenli said her daughter wasn’t very perceptive and wanted her to learn some social graces from her. Now she understood, she completely realized what “not being perceptive” meant.

Zhang Sitan disliked having people nearby when she worked; it made her feel monitored. But this time, her efficiency was surprisingly high.

Qi An, small, was nestled in a high chair on the side, scrolling on her phone, seemingly reading a novel. She was quiet and peaceful, and surprisingly, she didn’t feel annoying; instead, there was a sense of reassurance.

Like a small dog curled up in a corner, keeping its owner company while they worked.

Zhang Sitan internally clicked her tongue, somewhat despising her own analogy.