Chapter 319

Chapter 319

"I want to build a proactive early warning system. Monitor not just people, but objects."

Calista's eyes gleamed with rational, almost sharp light.

"From today, all materials for the 'Next Generation Life Sciences Initiative'—from test tubes and culture medium to centrifuges—must have unique RFID chips embedded. All suppliers must undergo the Frost Group's strictest background checks and full supply chain monitoring."

"Everything entering this building—we need to know where it came from, whose hands it passed through, where it ultimately goes. Any unauthorized movement or status change triggers warnings, not alarms."

"I want to establish the world's strictest laboratory control system. Our enemies aren't old paint in walls, but all potential, uncontrollable variables. I want to turn all variables into constants."

She finished in one breath. The entire conference room fell silent.

If Gary's security was an iron fortress, Calista's vision would transform this castle into an absolutely pure, absolutely controlled vacuum sterile chamber.

More extreme than Gary's demands. More rigorous.

Gary watched the slender yet powerful figure at the whiteboard, silent for a long time.

He'd thought he'd raised a large enough protective umbrella for her.

Only to discover she herself was the most unbreakable sky.

His nerves, taut for hours, finally—truly, completely—relaxed in this moment.

Gary walked to Calista's side, picked up another marker, and added a link to her flowchart on the whiteboard.

"Funding and technology—I'll handle it."

...

The "proactive early warning system" was established faster than imagined.

Gary's investment in funding and technology spared no expense. Calista's vision transformed from whiteboard sketches to reality covering the entire institute in just two weeks.

Every test tube with RFID chips, every medicine refrigerator requiring triple verification to open—silently proclaimed the Next Generation Life Sciences Initiative's uniqueness.

This almost obsessive rigor spread rapidly through the industry.

Some praised it as the future laboratory model. Others mocked it as building an unnecessary fortress with gold.

Regardless of outside opinions, new visitors soon knocked.

The leader was named Harrison—high-bridged nose, textbook-standard smile.

He was a partner at a top venture capital fund, followed by an impressive advisory team including former Nobel Committee members.

"Dr. Softhart, your foresight deeply impresses us." Harrison carried that particular smoothness of business elites. "We heard about the old paint incident. It precisely demonstrates that even the greatest scientific exploration requires top-tier risk management."

In the conference room, the atmosphere was subtle.

Calista listened quietly, fingers unconsciously spinning a pen. Gary sat beside her, posture relaxed, as if this were an inconsequential meeting.

Harrison laid groundwork for ages before revealing his cards.

"We're willing to add one billion dollars in investment and can bring our global supply chain network and government resources to the initiative. In return, we need a board seat and fifty percent priority commercial conversion rights to project results."

He finished, confidently watching Calista, awaiting her surprise and gratitude.

In Harrison's view, this was an irrefusable offer. Though the Frost Group was strong, in Europe and America's deeply entrenched biomedical field, its influence was limited.

"Fifty percent?" Calista finally spoke. She set down her pen, looked up at him. "You may have misunderstood. This isn't a startup. This is a scientific initiative."

"Science's endpoint is application. Application requires commercialization. That's the rule." Harrison spread his hands.

"There are many kinds of rules." Calista's voice was flat. "My rule is: until any result is proven universally safe and effective for humanity, it belongs only to the laboratory, not to any capital."

Gary picked up his coffee, took a sip, didn't interject. But the action itself was a statement.

Harrison's smile faded. "Dr. Softhart, you're refusing the world's top capital and resources. Are you certain you want your research to stagnate for so-called 'purity'?"

"My research is progressing well." Calista said.

"Is it?" Harrison's tone carried a hint of threat. "Stockholm's winter is long. Supply chain disruptions are like highway pile-ups—once started, hard to stop. Mr. Frost, what do you think?"

Gary finally set down his coffee cup. The base hit the table with a soft sound.

"'Disruption' isn't in the Frost Group's dictionary either." He looked at Harrison, eyes calm. "You can try."

The meeting ended unpleasantly.

As Harrison left, his standard smile had completely vanished, replaced by undisguised coldness.

After the office door closed, Calista walked to the window, watching the group drive away.

"They'll make a move." She said.

"I know." Gary walked behind her. "How long to build backup supply chains?"

"A month, maybe longer." Calista turned around. "And costs will rise at least thirty percent. Some special biological agents—only a few suppliers, all within their sphere of influence."

This was an asymmetric war. The opponent held the rules. They only had money and determination.

"Money isn't the problem." Gary said.

"But time is." Calista looked at him. "Our research can't withstand endless delays."

Gary fell silent. He could buy out suppliers, but couldn't change the entire industry ecosystem overnight.

Harrison's retaliation came faster than anticipated.

Next morning, the company supplying a key enzyme unilaterally emailed to terminate cooperation. Reason: "internal production line adjustment."

That afternoon, a professor scheduled for academic exchange at the institute suddenly canceled, saying his dog was sick.

A series of "accidents" precisely hit the project's core. Inside the institute, uneasy murmurs began.

Gary's expression darkened daily. He mobilized all Frost Group connections in Europe, only to find the opponent had woven a massive, invisible net. Obstacles everywhere.

At a core project team internal meeting, the atmosphere was oppressively bleak.

"Dr. Softhart, T4 culture medium inventory lasts only one week. New suppliers need at least three weeks for qualification approval."

"Also, ultra-low temperature centrifuge parts—Sylvanor's blocking it, saying they need to re-examine export regulations."

Bad news after bad news.

Gary sat in the corner listening, fingers tapping the table—the entire conference room could hear his suppressed fury's rhythm.

"Everyone finished?"

Calista spoke, breaking the silence.

She stood, walked to the whiteboard still showing the "proactive early warning system" framework from last time.

"From the start, I never expected smooth sailing."

She pulled up a new projection interface.

A financial statement for a charitable foundation called "Project Spark."

"This is a similar project to the Next Generation Life Sciences Initiative. When the initiative launched, I registered it in my personal capacity. Funding comes partly from social donations, partly..."

Calista switched pages, showing several patent licensing contracts.

"...from licensing fees for small diagnostic technologies derived from our early research. Like a reagent kit for rapid early-stage neuropathy screening."

Everyone in the conference room froze. They'd been doing cutting-edge research daily but never imagined those seemingly insignificant "byproducts" were already generating revenue.

"Not much money." Calista's tone was calm. "But enough to get us through this winter. From today, all bottlenecked materials—we synthesize ourselves. All needed parts—we figure out how to make them. The institute's 3D bioprinting center and precision machining workshop aren't decorations."

"This will slow core project progress." Someone said quietly.

"No." Calista shook her head. "This will make our fortress truly impregnable. We don't need external highways. We'll build our own airport."

Her words were like a shot of adrenaline.

The gloom hanging over everyone swept away. Replaced by awakened fighting spirit.

Gary's finger tapping stopped.

He watched Calista standing at the whiteboard, entire being radiant, and the suppressed irritation and rage in his heart suddenly calmed.

She always had a way.

When he wanted to punch through a wall, she'd already quietly built a door beside it.

Good plan, but couldn't solve immediate problems.

Independent R&D and production needed startup capital. Foundation funds required process completion. Patent revenues needed time to arrive.

Short-term, the project still faced a massive cash flow gap.

That evening, back at the villa.

Gary was about to call a Sylvanor private bank, planning to mobilize personal funds into the foundation.

Calista's phone rang.

Bruce.

"Calista, I heard about some things." Bruce's voice was as gentle as always. "Don't worry. Commercial suppression—same few tactics. I have a medical development fund with idle capital. I'll have my lawyer draft a low-interest long-term loan contract and send it tomorrow. Use it first—consider it supporting an alumna's venture."

He spoke casually, like inviting someone to dinner.

But Calista knew what this money meant to her right now.