American Medicine God: Starting by Inheriting a Pharmaceutical Company and Selling Medicine

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I would like to thank the generous "gift king" from the user "This is the default nickname". The user is very generous and I never expected to receive such a gift. I will add 4 chapters. I have written 2 chapters today. I will add the remaining 2 chapters tomorrow!

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Tokyo, Chiyoda Ward, Sakura Pharmaceutical Headquarters Building.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, snow was falling heavily. Kenji Tanaka stood alone by the window, gazing at the silvery-white world outside.

Snowflakes fall before your window, a woman in a painting laments in her chamber. Who so lightly paints their longing, wishing only to freeze time so you can traverse it...

In this building that would soon no longer belong to him, he waited agonizingly for the man who would decide his fate—Victor Corleone.

"President," Secretary Kobayashi said, pushing open the door. "I just received a call that Mr. Corleone's convoy has already departed from Narita Airport."

"Has it finally arrived?" Tanaka took a deep breath, straightened his tie, and tried to regain a semblance of dignity as the head of a zaibatsu.

"Notify the security guards downstairs to prepare the highest level of welcome. Lay the red carpet to the roadside, and have all senior executives line up in the lobby. We must show Sakura Pharmaceuticals the last vestige of dignity; we can't let the Americans laugh at us."

"No, President..." Kobayashi's voice trembled, "They...they didn't come here."

Tanaka's voice rose eight octaves: "What do you mean? Where did the convoy go?"

"The convoy went directly to the Imperial Hotel." Kobayashi lowered his head, avoiding Tanaka's eyes. "Mr. Corleone's assistant called and said that if President Tanaka wants to discuss business, he should go there to find him. He's waiting for you in the 'Peacock Hall' on the top floor of the main building. He also said..."

"What else is there to say?"

"He said that if I didn't show up by 3:30 p.m., he would go directly to the Sumitomo Bank headquarters for tea. I heard that Sumitomo Bank President Horita is already waiting there."

Tanaka's body swayed violently, and he had to reach out to hold onto the windowsill to barely avoid falling.

Imperial Hotel.

That's where the Japanese Imperial Family and top political figures receive state guests; it's Tokyo's most prominent landmark of power. Designed by American architect Frank Lloyd Wright, it symbolizes the convergence of Eastern and Western cultures, but also a kind of insurmountable class barrier.

Victor's choice to go there instead of coming to the Sakura Pharmaceuticals headquarters couldn't be clearer.

This was not an equal commercial negotiation. It was a "summoning" of a vassal state by a suzerain state.

He wanted to not only kill him, but also destroy his spirit. He wanted the entire Japanese business community to know that the once arrogant Kenji Tanaka was nothing more than a stray dog. He had to crawl across half of Tokyo to beg for mercy at the feet of the Americans.

"Prepare the car." Tanaka closed his eyes.

......

A black Toyota Century sedan drove on a street covered in snow.

Outside the train window, the Tokyo street scene appeared exceptionally desolate. The crowds that once lined up to snap up Louis Vuitton and Chanel were gone, replaced by closed shops and shop windows with "For Rent" signs.

As Tanaka watched all this, a sense of melancholy, like that of a rabbit mourning the death of a fox, welled up in his heart. He recalled the scene when his grandfather founded Sakura Pharmaceuticals; back then, they were just a small pharmacy in Doshu-cho, Osaka. It was only through the efforts of three generations that they had reached the pinnacle of the Japanese pharmaceutical industry.

But is all of this going to be wiped out by just one bad real estate gamble?

Forty minutes later, the convoy stopped in front of the magnificent portico of the Imperial Hotel.

The doorman took the car keys and led Tanaka through the lobby, followed by Vice President Yamamoto and several key executives.

"Hey, isn't this President Tanaka?"

A familiar voice rang out. Tanaka froze, turned around, and saw Sato, the managing director of Mitsui & Co. Sato, who used to bow and scrape before Tanaka, was now holding a cup of coffee, looking at him with a mocking expression.

"Sato-san..." Tanaka forced a smile.

"I heard Sumitomo Bank is already preparing to make a move?" Sato deliberately raised his voice, attracting the attention of those around him. "What a pity, Sakura Pharmaceutical is a century-old company. But it's okay, if you go bankrupt and are liquidated, Mitsui & Co. will be happy to take over your sales channels—at scrap prices, of course."

"You..." Vice President Yamamoto was so angry that his face turned red. He was about to rush up to argue, but Tanaka held him back tightly.

"Let's go." Tanaka said, head down.

"Hahahaha!" Sato's unrestrained laughter rang out from behind. "Hurry up, don't keep your American masters waiting!"

In the lobby, several elegant ladies who were having afternoon tea began to whisper among themselves. He lowered his head, quickened his pace, and fled into the elevator.

The top floor, the "Peacock Hall".

Here, you'll find a high dome and huge floor-to-ceiling windows, offering an unobstructed view of the snow-covered landscape of the entire Imperial Palace Outer Garden.

Victor sat on the sofa by the window. He wore a dark gray cashmere cardigan, toying with an empty wine glass in his hand, and a bottle of freshly decanted Romanée-Conti sat in front of him.

"Boss," Saul whispered as he hurried into the private room, "I just got word that Sumitomo Bank's asset preservation team is waiting in the hotel lobby. They're led by their deputy head of the liquidation department. They've given Tanaka an ultimatum: if they don't see proof of the funds injection by midnight tonight, the Tokyo District Court will receive an enforcement order first thing tomorrow morning to seize all of Sakura Pharmaceutical's assets."

"Very good." Victor's lips curled up slightly. "This means that Tanaka's bargaining chips are now zero. No, they're negative. He's not just saving the company, he's saving his own life, and saving his family's century-old reputation."

Should we let him know that we know this?

"Of course. Information asymmetry is the cornerstone of business negotiations, but fear is the best catalyst." Victor put down his glass. "Open the door. Also, have the lawyer prepare a B version of the contract."

"Version B? That 'zombie clause' that completely disqualifies voters?"

"Yes. Since he's already kneeling, there's no need for us to bend down and help him up. We need to completely pull his spine out so he can only crawl for the rest of his life."