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

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I'll post one chapter now, and another one at noon. The story of Prison A has temporarily come to an end. If you're interested in learning more, you can search for his live stream clips on Bilibili.

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"His name is Kirby. I like to call him 'Big Brother'," Prison A said softly. "He's 1.97 meters tall, 240 pounds, a big guy. He looks like a black iron tower standing there. He carries bags at the docks in South Philadelphia, which is really heavy physical labor, but he never complains."

Looking at the somewhat frail-looking Asian medical student in front of him, Mudd found it hard to imagine that he would have any interaction with dockworkers like that.

"Everyone advised him to play football or basketball. His physique would undoubtedly make him a shining star."

"Do you know what he said?"

Mudd shook his head.

"He said, 'I don't want to be an animal.'" Prison A mimicked the deep voice of a Black man. "'I don't want to be a gladiator in an arena, I don't want to exhaust my knees and brains to please the people in the stands, I don't want to take those enhancement drugs that make you stupid and shorten your lifespan. I want to be a doctor, or a lawyer. I want to live like a human being, with dignity.'"

Mud's eyes flickered.

"Surprised?"

"A dockworker, trying to go to university. But he's a genius, Mudd. A real genius. I only tutored him in math for a year and a half, just to earn those meager credits. But he went from linear equations to calculus in just a year and a half."

"And what happened to him later..."

"And then?" Prison A interrupted him. "Then his brother got addicted to drugs. In South Philadelphia, it's as common as the flu. The local gangs controlled the neighborhood, and they paid those underage kids—not dollars, but the latest 'candy'."

"To save his brother, Koby spent all his savings and even went into debt for two months to send him to an expensive private drug rehabilitation center. Because drug trafficking is even more rampant in public rehabilitation centers than outside."

"After paying tuition and medical bills, he couldn't even afford the rent. That winter was particularly cold, and he asked me if he could squeeze onto the sofa in my dorm room."

We lived together for three months.

"He worked as a porter at the docks during the day and studied math problems at night. He was the most resilient soul I've ever met."

"In the third month, he received his salary and moved out, treating me to a lavish meal at his newly rented apartment!"

"Until one day, he stopped coming to school."

Mudd's heart sank.

"I later found out that the gang thought that Koby was 'disrespecting' by sending his brother to rehab, that he was breaking their rules. A few thugs with baseball bats cornered him at the dock." Prison A's voice became unusually calm. "He didn't fight back. Because if he fought back, he would go to jail, and if he went to jail, he wouldn't be able to go to college or become a doctor."

"He had three broken ribs and a ruptured spleen. But he didn't go to the hospital because he didn't have good health insurance, and the emergency room bill would bankrupt him immediately and wipe out his credit score. He thought he could just tough it out like before."

"He lay on the sofa for three days. On the third night, he developed a high fever. The wound infection led to sepsis."

A paused for a long time, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"I'm a medical student, Mulder. I knew that a little antibiotics could have solved his problem, but he eventually stopped breathing. Just because he couldn't afford good health insurance."

"This is the story of Koby. An S-class 'Sports' model, priced at $1200."

The coffee had long since gone cold. Mudd felt as if a huge rock was lodged in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.

"Wat Pharmaceuticals..." Mulder gritted his teeth, "If it weren't for the proliferation of those drugs..."

"No, Mudd. Don't oversimplify things."

"Do you think this is just Walter's problem? Or that gang's problem?"

"I've dissected hundreds of Gundams in the lab. I've seen homeless people washed out of the sewers by torrential rain; they're piled up like slimes..."

"In this process, I discovered a truth."

As he spoke, A dipped his finger in coffee and drew a line on the table.

"In biology, there are two survival strategies. One is called the r strategy, and the other is called the K strategy."

"Organisms employing the 'r' strategy, such as mice and flies, are characterized by short lifespans, rapid reproduction, and a lack of parental care. They only focus on the present because they cannot live to see the future."

"K-strategy organisms, such as elephants and humans, are characterized by long lifespans, slow reproduction, and high-intensity investment in their offspring. They understand planning and accumulation."

"But that's just biology," Muld said, frowning.

"No, this is also sociology." A's voice turned cold. "In the United States, two completely different species are emerging: the short-lived species and the long-lived species."

"Short-lived people live in slums. They have children in their teens because they subconsciously know they won't live long. They seek instant gratification—stimulants, violence, faith—because 'the future' is a false proposition for them. Their parents are children, and they themselves are children. Thirty is old age for them, and forty is death."

"And the immortals live on Long Island, in the Upper East Side. They live to be ninety and still in good health. They send their children to Ivy League schools, buy them trust funds, extend their lifespans with the best medical resources, and arm their minds with the best education. They are the epitome of the K strategy."

Lao A pointed to the college students sunbathing on the lawn outside the window.

"Look, these are the reserve long-lived species. And Koby... he tried to evolve from a short-lived species into a long-lived species. This goes against the laws of nature. So the social immune system kicked in and eliminated him like a virus."

"And Water Pharmaceuticals, in the process, simply reaped a wave of 'short-lived' corpses as an afterthought. It was as natural as a farmer harvesting wheat stubble."

Mudd fell silent. He had never seen the world from this perspective before. He had always thought he was fighting against an evil corporation, but Prison A told him that he was fighting against an inevitable social evolution.

"What are you going to do, Detective?" Cell A's voice held a hint of pity. "Have you been investigating Walter to seek justice for the dead, or to satisfy your so-called procedural justice?"

"I want the truth," Mulder said stubbornly. "I want them to pay the price."

"The price?" Prison A laughed. "Do you think finding evidence and arresting Victor Corleone will change anything? His legal team will bail him out within 24 hours. Even if he goes to jail, there will be another Victor. Because long-lived species need the flesh and blood of short-lived species to maintain their immortality. It's determined by the ecological niche."

"So we're just going to do nothing?" Mudd jumped to his feet. "Just watch them slaughter people like livestock?"

Prison A remained silent. He looked into Mudd's angry eyes, as if he were seeing the Koby who had fought the gangsters bare-handed years ago.

After a long while, he stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

"In this classroom, there are no right answers, only survival." Prison A repeated the sentence he had said.

He walked up to Mudd and stopped.

"If you really want to hurt them, don't play by their rules. The law is the game rule set by the immortals; you can't beat the house."

Lao A's voice was very low, so that only the two of them could hear it.

There's an old saying in my hometown.

"A common man's anger can spill blood five steps away."

"What they despise most is the people, because they think the people are as easy to manipulate as insects. But what they fear most is also the people, because once the insects gather into a tide, even elephants will be devoured."

After saying that, Lao A pushed open the door of the coffee shop and stepped into the glaring midday sun.

Mud was left alone, standing in the shadows, unable to move for a long time.

He looked at the nearly dried watermark on the table; it was the line drawn by Prison A.

The kill line.

It is also the dividing line between species!