Disappointment.
That word doesn't sound particularly severe—just the negative emotion that arises when expectations fall short.
That meal you'd been craving for ages finally arrives, but it doesn't taste good. The trip you'd planned with friends gets canceled when they stand you up. The promise your parents made gets broken yet again.
These are all disappointment.
By Su Ning's standards, that kind of disappointment would yield at most a few hundred in profit.
But this time, it was different.
To be fair, it was thanks to certain people's tireless efforts at spreading the word that the idea of penicillin being a miracle drug had taken deep root in people's hearts, and the public had placed extremely high hopes on it.
With penicillin.
No more worries about a tiny wound sending you straight to meet the King of Hell.
With penicillin.
Childbirth—unless there was massive hemorrhaging—even in the hottest summer, no longer meant dying on the delivery bed.
With penicillin.
No more fear of pneumonia or syphilis!
Although penicillin would surely be expensive at first, it was still a glimmer of hope, and people's hearts were open and full of anticipation. That's why they subconsciously ignored Su Ning's repeated warnings.
They voluntarily covered their eyes.
Plugged their ears.
Choosing to believe only what they wanted to believe—like the claim that Su Ning was just scared because her plan had gotten ruined, which could be summed up in a phrase:
The tide of the times.
But now, it was no longer a matter of choosing to believe or not, listen or not!
Young Master Qian was an only son.
To say he was pampered beyond measure wouldn't adequately describe his standing in the family. So, even after he'd stopped breathing, the Qian family refused to give up and had him rushed to the hospital, demanding the doctors save him.
The doctor: ...
If they'd come any later, rigor mortis would have started setting in. He wasn't a deity—how was he supposed to bring the dead back to life?
Different trades have their specialists.
Better to go find a Taoist priest.
Of course, he kept those thoughts to himself. On the surface, the doctor very tactfully explained that the man was already dead, but the Qian family wouldn't accept it and flew into a rage on the spot.
"Nonsense! Impossible!"
"You damned quack! My son is still young. This morning he was perfectly fine—ate a good amount of food, said he was going to marry a good wife and give me ten grandsons. How could he be dead? How could he possibly be dead!"
Madame Qian wailed and cursed, baring her teeth as she lunged to pound on the doctor.
The other members of the Qian family followed suit without hesitation.
They swarmed forward.
Luckily, the hospital's security guards were experienced. Though the term "medical dispute" didn't exist yet, this sort of thing had never been rare in hospitals, and they stepped in in time to stop the attack.
It also drew plenty of curious onlookers.
"What's going on here?"
"Someone died, that's what. They say the person was already dead when he was brought in. Hmph—clearly trying to extort the hospital, and now they're furious that it didn't work!" someone said with certainty.
"But look at their clothes—they don't seem like the type... they've even got servants with them."
"Don't judge by appearances. These days, extortionists are clever. They dress all fancy to make people think they'd never stoop to such tricks—that's how they pull it off."
Hearing these remarks, Old Master Qian's face turned green with rage. Meanwhile, the doctor, who had narrowly dodged a "claw swipe," was also furious—he wasn't even married yet!
He shouted directly:
"Call the police—call the police right now! Say that St. Mary's Hospital has people here trying to extort money using a corpse!"
"You damned quack, who's trying to extort money?! Open your dog eyes and see who I am—my family is loaded!"
"Oh, don't know you," the doctor said with a glance.
Ridiculous.
Shanghai was this big, with millions of people. A perfectly unremarkable-looking fellow having the audacity to think everyone should know him?
He added another remark:
"All I know is that your son—if that really is your son—has been dead for over an hour. And he clearly had syphilis, what the folk call 'the great yam sore.' And just now, your esteemed wife said your son was going to father ten grandsons. Ha."
The sarcasm dripped thick enough to fill a bucket.
As everyone knew.
Those who contracted that filthy disease couldn't have children at all—and if children were somehow born, they'd be stillborn or born with the disease, living a life worse than death!
The moment the words landed, the onlookers laughed loudly.
"Of course he could! My son's illness could be cured—once he was healed, he could father sons! Penicillin—aren't they saying penicillin is a miracle drug? So why did my son die?!"
Old Master Qian's words trailed off as the heart-wrenching pain hit him again, dominating his thoughts.
He muttered Su Ning's name over and over. It was all her fault.
All of it.
But he didn't notice that those who heard his words—whether hospital doctors and nurses or the gawking crowd—had frozen. There was a moment of silence, and then an uproar.
"It's connected to penicillin?"
"I remember now—this is Old Master Qian, he was in the newspapers. They even said his son had syphilis. It matches; everything matches."
"How could this happen?"
"So Miss Su wasn't just bluffing—penicillin can actually kill?"
……
One stone stirred a thousand waves.
No piece of news had ever spread this fast. At first, no one believed it, but the dead body of Young Master Qian was right there, leaving them no choice.
A storm of public opinion erupted.
Everyone's hearts felt like they'd been hurled down from a thousand meters high, smashing on the ground.
A tidal wave of disappointment swept into a hurricane.
It blew from Shanghai to Beiping, from within the country to abroad. Some couldn't believe it; some wept; some cursed. Those who had obtained penicillin felt the emotional shockwaves more intensely than anyone.
One cautious individual had gotten his hands on some, then flown back to his territory overnight, stashed it away, and was gloating over his prize.
Then a thunderbolt struck from a clear sky.
"What—penicillin actually kills?"
True enough. Though the weather was hot and Young Master Qian was starting to smell, he still hadn't been buried yet.
At that moment, their hearts all hurt just as much as Old Master Qian's—they'd spent so much money, so many resources and connections, to grab hold of this thing, and it really did have a mortality rate!
But amidst the uniform sea of disappointment, there were some with singular experiences.
In Nanjing.
Madame Kung felt nothing but relief. She hadn't been involved in this matter at all, so none of the blame could fall on her.
In the Northeast, Wu Yi—who had nearly lost everything he'd worked for before escaping that situation—smiled in grim satisfaction. But even so, Su Ning remained immovable...
"I agree to your terms."
Looking at the Japanese envoy who had come to persuade him, no one would have imagined that Young Master Huo, the famed scion of the prestigious Huo family in the South Seas, was also working for Japan.
Thinking about his own predicament.
Wu Yi finally made his decision.
"A wise choice."
A smile spread across Huo Xiang's face, his mood cheerful beyond measure. His eyes flickered, and he said genially, "Actually, I also have a score to settle with Su Ning..." After finishing his story without hurry, he duly heard the sound of his luck points being credited.
He smiled with satisfaction.
Elsewhere.
Zhao Chang finished speaking. Moments later, loud weeping erupted from the Li family tailor shop—but it wasn't mournful crying. It was weeping filled with joy, drowning in elation.
The son with the limp sobbed as he ran into the house and came back out clutching an ancestral tablet, still crying:
"Brother, your spirit in heaven can finally rest easy. Thanks to Miss Su's penicillin, that Qian bastard is dead. Down there, you can give him a good beating to vent your fury."
Zhao Chang was happy for them as well.
But the fact that penicillin really did have a mortality rate—that could only evoke disappointment.
Why would such a miraculous medicine have such a flaw? If only there were a way to solve it. And besides, did Young Master Qian really die from penicillin?
"Clever" people with similar thoughts were countless, yet they had no way to verify their suspicions.
Their eyes then fell upon the Qian family...
Outside, rumors and disputes were swirling endlessly.
Over at Su Ning's side, however, all was peaceful and blissful. She excitedly urged the system:
"Hurry up, hurry up—how many rewards do I have now?"
