Chapter 499 — The Cost Is So Low

"One box? There are at least twenty boxes a year, though generally they're auctioned under a price ceiling — five hundred thousand at the top. Whoever reaches five hundred thousand first takes it, which spares everyone the tedious business of bidding," Fatty Lai said. "Twenty boxes, so it's only a matter of who's quick. First to hit five hundred thousand gets it."

"So every box sells for five hundred thousand then?" Wei Zhao nodded and went on.

"Not exactly. The first few boxes all go for five hundred thousand, but once fewer people are still fighting for them, the price naturally comes down — four hundred thousand, even three hundred thousand," Fatty Lai said.

"Five hundred thousand will do nicely. Later we'll see whether there's a pharmacy along the road, and I'll buy some more herbs." Wei Zhao nodded, feeling the margin was, if nothing else, quite respectable — not as rich as the Life-Prolonging Detox Elixir, but no small sum either, and, above all, it would make a name for them.

"Er..." Fatty Lai had long since grown used to Wei Zhao's uncanny ways; he was probably the only man alive who would compound a medicine on the spot the night before an auction. He hurriedly said, "Then let me contact someone, order some fine packaging, and have it rushed over tonight?"

"No need. I'll buy some disposable medicine bottles and fill those." Wei Zhao waved him off. "Let them believe or not believe — those who believe will bid, those who won't, won't."

"True enough. Good medicine doesn't need help selling — why dress it up for them!" Fatty Lai nodded. "And we save ourselves a lump of money besides!"

"Heh..." Wei Zhao thought this Fatty Lai really was a born businessman. Handing the medical group over to him to run had plainly been the wise decision. "By the way, what's the market price of Miracle Doctor Kang's wound salve?"

"Miracle Doctor Kang's wound salve goes for two hundred and ninety-nine a box on the open market, and I was thinking of pricing ours at two hundred and eighty-eight," Fatty Lai said. "Only I don't know what our costs come to yet, so the price stays under wraps for now."

"What? We're selling ours for two hundred and eighty-eight?" Wei Zhao's eyes went wide. A plain box of wound salve, and Kang could actually push it to nearly three hundred — that was a shade too ruthless, wasn't it? Something that touched people's livelihoods, sold so dearly — who could afford it?

When it came to people he took a dislike to, Wei Zhao would naturally swing a broad blade and fleece them until sky and earth went dark. But toward the poor, he truly had no wish to bleed them of their money.

"Too cheap?" Fatty Lai was startled by the look on Wei Zhao's face. "Boss, Miracle Doctor Kang only charges two hundred and ninety-nine. Demand outstrips supply as it is, but if we price ours above his, I'm afraid we'll never break into the market! I know full well our efficacy is bound to beat his!"

Hearing this, Wei Zhao knew he had misunderstood and could not help laughing. "This stuff costs us a couple of yuan a box. I was thinking two hundred and eighty-eight was a bit steep!"

"Huh? A couple of yuan?" Fatty Lai froze and very nearly took a tumble on the spot. "Boss, did I hear that right? A couple of yuan? How is that possible? Then Miracle Doctor Kang's wound salve must cost a couple of yuan too!"

"His, I wouldn't know — I've never laid eyes on it." Wei Zhao shook his head. "But that's what ours costs. I'd suggest we price it lower, so ordinary people can actually afford it!"

"All right then — we'll be a company that puts the people first!" Fatty Lai gritted his teeth, saying it with the air of a man having a tooth pulled. "Then let's sell it for one hundred and ninety-nine!"

He was, at heart, a profiteer; but with Wei Zhao having spoken, Fatty Lai could hardly hold out. In his eyes, two hundred and eighty-eight would have sold splendidly well, and might even have provoked yet another shortage.

One hundred and ninety-nine? In truth, Wei Zhao still thought it a trifle dear, but he knew nothing of what it cost to run a company, and seeing how visibly it pained Fatty Lai, he merely nodded. "Fine."

Only then did Fatty Lai breathe a sigh of relief. He had feared Wei Zhao would slice another hundred off the top, down to ninety-nine, and the profit would shrink alarmingly.

"Then I'll draw up a plan — the next time our products go under the hammer, we announce the retail price along with them." Fatty Lai nodded. "As for the painkiller, Boss — what do you think would be a suitable price?"

"Each dose costs about fifty cents to make; at scale, naturally, it comes down a bit. Set the price as you see fit," Wei Zhao said.

"Right — then a box of five doses, also at one hundred and ninety-nine?" Fatty Lai asked tentatively.

"Make it ninety-nine," Wei Zhao said after a moment's thought.

"Done — whatever the Boss says!" In truth, bracing himself against any haggling from Wei Zhao, Fatty Lai had deliberately quoted high, leaving himself room to be cut down.

With the prices of both medicines settled, Fatty Lai's heart settled too. What mattered even more was that he now knew their costs, and that pleased him all the further — it showed Wei Zhao had begun to take him for one of his own, and was gradually letting him in on the core secrets.

Passing a rather large apothecary, the three of them went in. Wei Zhao didn't bother with a prescription; he simply rattled off a handful of herbs and had the shop assistant weigh them out.

Of course, though Wei Zhao had come to trust Fatty Lai in part, he still did not trust him outright. When the medicines were being weighed, he deliberately slipped in a number of useless ones and scrambled the dosages besides. Several principal herbs he never mentioned at all, naming instead a few uncommon ones, at which the shop assistant shook his head — none in stock.

"No matter. There's no shortage of pharmacies in Yanjing City; let's try another one," Fatty Lai said hastily when he heard they were out. "If it comes to that, I'll have someone drive out and fetch them."

"No need for that yet. Let's look around first." Wei Zhao smiled.

Once the buying was done, Fatty Lai rushed forward to settle the bill — which was not much in any case, only a few hundred yuan.

Guan Xuemin said nothing, nor did he make any effort to note down exactly which medicines Wei Zhao had bought. It was plain to see that he was an upright man: unless Wei Zhao showed him the prescription of his own accord, Guan Xuemin would never pry into another man's formula.

Not long after the three left the pharmacy, a young man called Xiaokun watched the receding backs of Wei Zhao and Fatty Lai, hesitated a moment, then slipped into the shop where Wei Zhao had just bought his medicines.

The street ran straight and was, in effect, a pedestrian thoroughfare, with no turnings on either side — which was the only reason Xiaokun dared duck into the pharmacy; otherwise he would never have risked losing them.

"Excuse me," Xiaokun asked amiably of the assistant inside the shop, "those three who just came in — what did they buy?"

There was only one assistant in the shop at that hour, for it was the night shift and one man was more than enough to handle the work. This, as it happened, spared Xiaokun the trouble of having to ask more than once.

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