Chapter 113

“People are lining up outside pharmacies to buy Banlangen. It’s packed like a festival. [Image][Image]”

“Our pharmacy’s been swamped from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. A lot of medicines are already sold out.”

“At least you still have medicine. All I’ve got left are health supplements.”

…

On April 16th, a nationwide wave of medicine hoarding swept across the country. Seventy percent of pharmaceuticals were derived from plant and animal extracts. Ever since the global Acid Rain event, drug prices had been steadily climbing. The recent Sandstorm crisis acted like a trigger, causing prices to skyrocket—some medications surged to seven times their original cost.

“No surgery for the patient? Hold on, I’m coming right now.” While the nation was fixated on the rising cost of medicine, in the Longjing Bay residential complex of Zhongnan, Xu Xiucai rushed out the door in a hurry.

Gao Shengliang was sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper. He looked up and asked, “What’s going on?”

“A patient wants to be discharged early.”

Xu Xiucai was a respiratory specialist at the Third Hospital of Changping City. A week ago, a patient had been admitted due to severe breathing issues. After examination, the diagnosis was serious asthma, and the patient needed a bronchial dilation surgery. The operation was scheduled for tomorrow morning. But just now, the hospital had called—apparently, the patient was demanding to be discharged immediately.

“Dr. Xu, the patient is in Room 302. The discharge paperwork’s already been processed,” a nurse reported half an hour later when Xu Xiucai arrived at the hospital.

Changing into her white coat, Xu Xiucai headed straight to Room 302.

Inside, a thin teenage boy was playing on his phone while a couple silently packed up their belongings.

“You’re checking out?” Xu Xiucai asked bluntly.

“We’ve already discussed it as a family,” the couple replied awkwardly.

“Why are you backing out now?” Xu Xiucai pressed. Bronchial dilation wasn’t a major surgery, and the patient had just turned sixteen—an ideal age for the procedure.

“We looked it up. This kind of condition isn’t usually fatal. If we’re careful, we can delay the surgery a couple of years.”

“If he doesn’t do it now, it’ll be much harder later.”

“It’s fine.”

Xu Xiucai tried to persuade them a bit more, but the couple was adamant—they weren’t going through with the surgery.

Unable to change their minds, Xu Xiucai stepped out to calm herself. When she returned, the bed by the window in Room 302 was already empty and neatly made.

Feeling disheartened, Xu Xiucai returned to her office.

“The patient left?” a colleague asked.

“Yeah.”

“I heard their family got a call—something happened to the older brother at the construction site…” the colleague said, gossiping.

Half an hour later, Xu Xiucai learned the full story. The couple had two sons. The elder one worked construction out of town, while the younger was a high school freshman. Both parents used to work at a hardware factory, but they’d been laid off due to the poor economy. The younger son’s asthma surgery would cost thirty thousand yuan.

The family had scraped together the money with great difficulty, only for the elder son to fall from scaffolding and injure his leg. The construction site hadn’t settled the compensation yet, so the family had no choice but to divert the surgery funds to cover his medical expenses.

“This is a thank-you letter from the patient. You weren’t here earlier, so I left it on your desk,” the colleague said, handing Xu Xiucai a handwritten note.

The letter began with the neat, formal words: “Thank you, Dr. Xu.” The rest was a heartfelt expression of gratitude. Xu Xiucai had been a doctor for thirty years. She’d received hundreds, if not thousands, of thank-you letters. But as she read this one, written in delicate handwriting, a wave of sadness washed over her.

“You’re not usually this sentimental,” her colleague remarked, curious. Doctors were used to seeing life and death, but Xu Xiucai was clearly more affected than usual.

“He looked just a bit younger than Shuai… it’s just too unfair.” Xu Xiucai sighed. Her son, Gao Shuai, had recently landed a job in advertising. Seeing such a young patient brought thoughts of her own son to mind.

“Dr. Xu!” Just as the two were chatting, a patient knocked on the door.

“Mr. Zhao,” Xu Xiucai looked up. He was a man in his forties, suffering from respiratory-induced asthma.

Holding a prescription slip, the man asked, “This inhaler isn’t available anywhere else. Does the hospital still have stock?”

“We’re out for now. We do have imported ones, but they’re a bit pricey,” Xu Xiucai replied.

“How pricey?”

“Twelve hundred.”

The man hesitated, then gritted his teeth and bought three inhalers.

After writing up the invoice, Xu Xiucai watched him leave and let out a long sigh.

Since the Global Crisis, hospital medications had been regulated by the Drug Administration Bureau, keeping prices relatively stable. But outside, private pharmacies had tripled their prices. These pharmacies were still under the Quality Supervision Bureau’s watch, so they didn’t dare raise prices too blatantly. Instead, they shifted to gray-market resales—through social media, private circles…

From February till now, a box of cold medicine had gone from fifteen yuan to fifty-five. Every day, scalpers loitered outside hospital gates. Staring at the pen holder on her desk, Xu Xiucai suddenly worried that this year’s medicine crisis might turn into another disaster like last year’s Dead Meat Incident, with counterfeiters flooding the market…

Her bad hunches always seemed to come true. From April 17 to 22, three major incidents made national headlines—

“April 17: In Changyuan City, Jisheng Province, authorities acted on a public tip and uncovered a case of expired cold medicine being relabeled. Over 31,000 boxes of expired drugs were seized.”

“April 19: In Longyang County, Sichuan Province, three counterfeit traditional medicine operations were busted. Total value of the fake drugs exceeded 72 million yuan.”

“April 20…”

…

With the painful lessons of last year’s Dead Meat Incident still fresh, the national Quality Supervision Bureau launched a precise crackdown on expired and counterfeit medications. The Longxia Drug Administration also took the opportunity to issue a new policy: Regulations on Resident Medication and Market Management for the Year 3030.

The new regulations focused on three key areas to ease the medication crisis:

1. Real-name registration for medications, with certain drugs requiring hospital case reports.

2. Strict crackdowns on drug speculation and hoarding, with increased market oversight.

3. Greater investment in Acid Rain-free pharmaceutical production bases and encouragement for pharmaceutical companies to pursue chemical R&D.

While the new rules helped alleviate the crisis to some extent, the medicine shortage remained one of the country’s most pressing issues.

…

“April 23: Police in Heshan, Longxia Province, uncovered a counterfeit amoxicillin production site…”

“Those bastards!”

On April 23rd, after reading the latest counterfeit drug case, Liu Wensheng slammed his fist on the table in fury.

With global prices for raw pharmaceutical ingredients on the rise, Longxia had ramped up imports regardless of cost. But raw medicinal materials were a non-renewable resource.

Before the Acid Rain crisis, Longxia had partnered with major pharmaceutical companies to establish multiple production bases for anti-Acid Rain medication. However, with a population of 1.5 billion, the demand for medicine was simply overwhelming. The output from those bases was nothing more than a drop in the ocean.

Now, with the pharmaceutical crisis erupting in full force, Liu Wensheng once again felt the suffocating pressure tightening around his throat.

He coughed twice, unable to suppress his anger.

“Drink some water first.”

Qin Yun poured him a glass of plain water. According to the doctors, Liu Wensheng was a textbook case of Acid Rain Sickness. Though not contagious, the disease was caused by Acid Rain pollutants accumulating in the lungs and chest. Combined with prolonged high temperatures, it acted like a chronic illness—slow to heal and hard to treat.

“How’s the Agricultural Research Institute doing?” Liu Wensheng asked after finishing the water.

“No progress so far,” Qin Yun replied, shaking his head.

Both the Biology Group and the Agricultural Group had hit a bottleneck. Ever since the development of Acid Rain Seeds, every project had stalled.

“Sigh…” Liu Wensheng let out a heavy breath.

The key to resolving the current pharmaceutical crisis lay in restoring vitality to the soil. But while destroying soil was easy, reviving it—especially after the organic matter had been depleted—was a monumental challenge.

On the 10th of last month, Mali released a news report: the first death from Acid Rain Sickness had occurred in Ruiwei, Mali. It wasn’t due to infection, but a sudden fatal episode triggered by severe coughing and high fever. Acid Rain Sickness was a chronic condition, but without emergency intervention, its consequences could be terrifying.

“The aftermath of this Acid Rain is just too severe…” Liu Wensheng said wearily, setting down his cup.

The Acid Rain had not only triggered a food crisis and an economic downturn—it had brought with it an even more terrifying threat to human survival.

After a few more exchanges, Liu Wensheng asked tiredly, “Still no word from the Wishing Pool?”

“Nothing yet.” Qin Yun shook his head.

The Wishing Pool was a once-a-year reward system that had been introduced after the farm’s latest upgrade. The farm could submit a wish in advance, and the system would issue a corresponding task. Ever since gaining access to the Wishing Pool, every wish had been focused on restoring soil vitality. But the review process was strict, and every single wish had been rejected.

“Sigh…” Liu Wensheng sighed again. For the first time, he felt utterly powerless. The frustration burned inside him like a raging fire, struggling to break free.

As Liu Wensheng sighed, Qin Yun looked equally exhausted. Over the past two weeks, he had combed through the entire Farm System meticulously, but still hadn’t found a way to restore the soil.

Then, as if on cue, both men remembered Qin Hai’s gift: the Purification Gem.

The Purification Gem could resolve the current ecological crisis, but it would also trigger a 100% mutation in the existing ecosystem. Unless they had no other choice, the farm wouldn’t dare use it lightly.

Beep beep!

Just then, the office phone rang, cutting through the heavy atmosphere.

“Liu Wensheng.” He picked up the call, his voice weary. It was from the Seed Laboratory. Before he could even ask about the progress, Song Yueshan’s excited voice came through the receiver: “We’ve made a breakthrough!”

Liu Wensheng and Qin Yun shot to their feet.

Ten minutes later, the two of them arrived at the Farm Laboratory.

“This is the FSA3 compound, derived from research on the Pier Reef. FSA3 is mainly found in a certain type of marine shell. When combined with Locust Fertilizer, it creates a new type of fertilizer that can effectively neutralize the acidic components in Locust Fertilizer…” Song Yueshan explained in a highly professional tone.

In short, FSA3 could break down the harmful acidity in Locust Fertilizer, allowing for the growth of edible crops unaffected by Acid Rain.

“How long does it last?” Liu Wensheng asked. Previously, Locust Fertilizer required annual application. With this Improved Fertilizer, he was prepared to fertilize once every six months.

Song Yueshan took a deep breath. “Three years.”

Though still in the early research phase, the Improved Fertilizer’s potency could last at least three years. In other words, land treated with it could not only grow edible crops but also only needed fertilizing once every three years.

“The cost per mu for the Improved Fertilizer is between six hundred to nine hundred yuan,” Song Yueshan continued. Currently, Locust Fertilizer cost about two hundred yuan per mu. Though the new fertilizer tripled the cost, its benefits—edible crops and three-year fertilization—more than made up for the expense.

“Run stability tests. Scale up production!” Liu Wensheng ordered without hesitation.

If the Improved Fertilizer could be used nationwide, they could establish vast new raw medicine bases and finally begin to resolve the pharmaceutical crisis!

Ding! Congratulations, Host has unlocked the achievement: Path of Advancement. System Task updating…

Just as Liu Wensheng was reporting the fertilizer breakthrough, the system updated.

Qin Yun pulled up the System Interface.

Host Name: Qin Yun.

Current Mission: The Path to Advancement. (Sow One Billion Mu Off-site Seeds)

Mission Reward: Unknown.

Random Mission: Participate in twenty types of planting labor. (95% complete)

Mission Reward: Grand Planting Gift Pack.

System Points: 2.7 billion.

…

This is the first active mission of the year 3030.