Chapter 13: Mitsui Pharmaceuticals

Li Haibo walked toward Zhou Zhengguo with a calm expression, a hint of confusion on his face: "What is it, old classmate?"

Zhou Zhengguo glanced around vigilantly and lowered his voice: "I need your help with something!"

"Just say it. As long as it's within my power, I won't hesitate!" Li Haibo patted his chest, his tone firm.

"Remember those doctors we sent out last time?" Zhou Zhengguo asked slowly.

"Yes! Did it go well?" Li Haibo asked with concern.

"Very well! It’s just that we are severely lacking medicine and medical equipment now."

"Where can we find them?"

"In Zhabei, there is a place called the Mitsui Pharmaceutical Zhabei Branch. They have everything, but ordinary people can't buy from them. Aren't you a policeman? Do you have any way to help?" Zhou Zhengguo asked, his eyes filled with anticipation.

"Alright, I'll go ask first. Meet me at the entrance of the alley by my house after work this afternoon. I'll let you know whether it's possible or not." Li Haibo pondered for a moment before agreeing.

"Got it!"

At that moment, three low-lifes who had just finished extorting a gambling stall walked over, and Li Haibo signaled for Zhou Zhengguo to leave first.

"How was it? Any profit?"

"Extorted two silver dollars!" the loose-lipped "Bear-Blind" said triumphantly.

"Nice work! Let's go to the teahouse and listen to some storytelling!"

...

The Mitsui Pharmaceutical Zhabei Branch was, in fact, just a pharmacy.

The limping manager was Japanese, and there were two local Chinese employees.

Buying medicine required a permit; they only sold wholesale, not retail, and accepted only gold or silver dollars.

The pharmacy was small and consisted of two floors. The ground floor was the shop, and the upper floor served as the manager's office and bedroom. There was no warehouse; all medicines and medical instruments were kept on the counters and shelves. When stock ran low, a single phone call to the main headquarters in the Japanese Concession would bring a delivery.

A rough estimate suggested the supply of medicine and equipment was decent, though the quantity wasn't large. Everything in the shop combined would barely fill an oxcart.

Li Haibo, standing on the sidewalk across the street, spat out his cigarette butt and turned to leave.

...

In the afternoon after work, Zhou Zhengguo was already waiting outside the alley leading to Li Haibo’s home, rubbing his hands together, his eyes full of anxiety.

Before long, Li Haibo’s figure gradually became clear in the distance.

Zhou Zhengguo’s eyes lit up. He hurried forward with a trot and asked expectantly, "Haibo, how did it go?"

Li Haibo said calmly, "Do you remember that small Earth God temple where we met last time?"

"I remember!" Zhou Zhengguo nodded repeatedly.

"Go wait there tomorrow at noon!" Li Haibo finished speaking and turned to leave, leaving Zhou Zhengguo with a cool, detached silhouette.

"Wait... don't I need to give you money?" Zhou Zhengguo stood in the wind, feeling bewildered as he touched the three small gold bars in his pocket.

...

A dark, windy night, clad in black, face masked... Damn it, this bastard, why is that limping manager still counting money this late?

The employees had long since gone home. Li Haibo lurked in a dark corner across the street, shivering from the cold, while the limping manager upstairs was counting money with great relish.

Li Haibo, having activated his "sharp ears" for several hours, was nearly driven mad listening to the manager humming a Japanese tune while counting: "Stop counting, one thousand and six! You money-grubbing son of a bitch, how many times have you counted it already?"

"I'm not waiting anymore!" Li Haibo’s patience finally ran out, and he marched angrily toward the pharmacy.

Arriving at the door, he deftly removed two loose wooden boards, slipped inside like a ghost, and quietly replaced them.

Then, he tiptoed up the stairs—looking exactly like a thief sneaking around.

Even without his "sharp ears," the sound of the limping Japanese man humming and the crisp "clinking" of silver dollars was clearly audible.

The limping Japanese manager, Nojiri Kojane, was very happy today. Nojiri had been an army officer, but last year's brutal Battle of Shanghai cost him his chance to ever return to the battlefield, forcing him to retire.

Through the connections of his former comrades, he successfully joined Mitsui Pharmaceutical and, relying on his status as a Japanese national, quickly rose to the position of manager at the Zhabei branch.

Though retired, his military past followed him everywhere. Old comrades often held gatherings, and Nojiri was always warmly invited.

At these frequent gatherings, he keenly spotted a potential business opportunity. Those comrades returning from the front held vast amounts of spoils: gold and silver jewelry, antiques, and even small caches of firearms and ammunition they had kept for themselves.

Nojiri realized that if he could acquire these spoils and resell them, the profits would be substantial. However, starting this plan posed a tricky problem: a lack of capital.

After much thought, Nojiri turned his greedy eyes toward the branch's public funds. The settlement method for the branch had a time lag, and the rule of settling once a month gave him his opening.

From then on, Nojiri began boldly embezzling public funds to purchase spoils from his comrades. Thanks to the trust between soldiers, he only needed to pay half the cost upfront for each transaction.

After successfully selling the acquired goods, he would pay the remainder and quietly replace the embezzled funds before the company audit.

In this cycle, he earned a handsome profit every month.

Just today, Nojiri had successfully completed another deal. He sat at his large desk, his face radiating uncontrollable joy, his rough hands rapidly counting the stack of silver dollars before him.

Although most of the money would be used to pay his comrades and fill the massive hole in the public accounts, his own share grew larger with every transaction.

"This is wonderful!" Nojiri couldn't help but cheer inwardly. "If this keeps up, in a few more months, I'll have my own capital, and I can be rid of the risk of embezzling public funds forever.

"By then, I will resign from this manager position and devote myself entirely to this highly profitable trade of spoils.

"Hmph, and that little punk from the Green Gang—the price he offered before was ridiculously low. Next time, I must make him raise it. If he doesn't know what's good for him, I won't be soft-hearted. I'll just find another buyer who knows the value of these things and pays more."

Lost in his dreams of the future, Nojiri suddenly sensed something strange in front of him. He shouted, "Who goes there?" At the same time, his hand lunged toward the Nambu pistol on his desk like a starving dog.

"Too late!" Li Haibo was quick; a screwdriver flew from his hand like an arrow, striking the limping Japanese man precisely between the eyebrows.