Fengcheng primarily focused on medical devices for cardiovascular and pulmonary conditions. This trip to Shu City was not only for exchanges and learning but also to attract more investors.
The Coronary Electrode Implanter needed to draw more attention from capital backers, laying the groundwork for substantial future investments in manpower and resources.
Jing Yan had selected Dan Wuyan for the most obvious reason: this was the project she had spearheaded personally. It was in its nascent stages but marked Dan Wuyan’s first major endeavor since joining Fengcheng.
Before entering the conference room, Dan Wuyan prepared all the materials and brought the final prototype model.
In the conference room, aside from Jing Yan and Ming Chong, who was assisting her, everyone else was a high-level executive from Kuohai Medical. The woman in the center front, exuding an aura of unquestioned authority in her gray suit, was Kuohai’s President, Qin Yu.
The meeting began, and Dan Wuyan presented the specific algorithm structure on the screen before introducing the R&D product from start to finish.
“The initial three-phase experiments have been successfully completed. The estimated timeline for mid- to late-stage development and testing is around October next year.”
“Coronary heart disease primarily affects middle-aged and elderly people. To improve patients’ quality of life, reduce the pain of episodes, and minimize risks during procedures, the electrode implanter—under specific algorithmic protocols—uses human conductivity to directly target blockages in the heart’s blood vessels. It breaks down the thrombi on the vessel walls into tiny particles, which are later metabolized and excreted by the body.”
After Dan Wuyan’s overview, the two rows of executives had their own thoughts but nodded in agreement nonetheless.
Qin Yu spoke up: “That’s too idealistic. What if the shattered thrombi reform into new ones later? Wouldn’t that be secondary harm to the patient?”
Before Dan Wuyan could respond, she continued: “Moreover, your initial experiments aren’t convincing enough. I acknowledge Fengcheng’s strength in the medical field, but which medical company is a pushover?”
“President Qin…” Jing Yan started to interject from her side, but Qin Yu raised a hand to silence her.
Qin Yu took the documents handed to her by her assistant, glanced over them, and then looked up: “Dan Wuyan, right?”
The named woman nodded.
“If I remember correctly, you’re that one from Roche in Switzerland.” A smile finally appeared on Qin Yu’s face. “Dan Wuyan, why leave a fine place like Roche to come back home and take the downhill path? I’ve heard of you; it doesn’t seem like your style.”
Hearing Qin Yu’s words, Jing Yan pressed her lips together tightly, her nails digging into her flesh. She knew the temperament of the woman beside her well—without sufficient prowess, Qin Yu wouldn’t spare anyone a second glance.
But the way she phrased it today showed her interest in Dan Wuyan’s R&D. However, since the implanter hadn’t yet proven itself before her, she had every right to question it and voice her perspective as the superior.
Dan Wuyan smiled lightly, not taking it as an insult. She addressed Qin Yu’s points one by one: “I returned home because there’s something I want to pursue. Before joining Roche, during the time I chose to start my own venture, I was rejected exactly thirty-eight times.”
She went on: “Whether it was Roche or Fengcheng, they were choices. I just wanted to take the path I liked the most.”
Qin Yu’s interest was piqued. She glanced at the time: “I’ll give you ten more minutes to briefly report on the later-stage development plans.”
As requested, Dan Wuyan projected her prepared materials on the screen for everyone to see. Algorithms were her forte; running through them simply in ten minutes was no challenge.
Ming Chong stood by, gazing at Dan Wuyan in admiration.
The meeting ended, and the Kuohai executives left one by one. Qin Yu approached Dan Wuyan, giving her a once-over: “I’ll give the investment matter serious consideration.” She signaled her people behind her to hand over an invitation.
“Three days from now is Kuohai’s AI medical exchange conference. I can introduce you to local medical companies then. President Jing, I really admire you for managing to win her over.”
With that, Qin Yu left with a smile.
Jing Yan clutched the two invitations, watching her depart. Dan Wuyan didn’t find anything wrong with Qin Yu’s words and turned to help Ming Chong clean up.
In truth, Dan Wuyan had recognized Qin Yu at first sight. Back at an overseas conference years ago, she had tried to poach Dan Wuyan for Kuohai as vice president, but Dan Wuyan had declined.
That was why Qin Yu had made those remarks.
Dan Wuyan didn’t admire many people, but Kuohai’s Qin Yu was one. She hadn’t expected that upon reuniting, the woman had risen to group president.
Kuohai’s R&D base wasn’t far, just a few kilometers by car. Under the guidance of the R&D manager, the group toured the production and operations of the intelligent medical devices inside and out.
On the way back, Jing Yan and Dan Wuyan rode in the same car as usual.
Exhausted, Dan Wuyan fell asleep in the car. Jing Yan leaned over slightly. With a gentle sway of the vehicle, Dan Wuyan’s head naturally came to rest on her shoulder.
Jing Yan’s lips curved faintly as she held the position to let her sleep comfortably.
Jing Yan rested her cheek against the soft, limp hair of the woman beside her. In the back seat, they nestled together, and she closed her eyes to rest as well.
_
That graduation year, a close friend from the same school, major, and nationality invited Dan Wuyan to start a business together.
Dan Wuyan agreed without hesitation.
Young and freshly entering society, their ambitions soared high.
Dan Wuyan handled the tech, while her friend Ji Fan hustled for investments. Back then, Dan Wuyan was reclusive and inarticulate, pouring all her energy into software development, yearning for positive feedback from investors.
Reality and ideals were worlds apart, and the results were predictably disappointing.
Even with a fully functional software boasting high innovation placed before investors, it was dismissed as worthless, doused with cold water amid scornful glares.
“Chat apps aren’t popular now; even smartphones are just catching on. Why skip broadly appealing opposite-sex dating apps for a same-sex one?” The investor looked down at the two young faces and continued his analysis: “Yes, the software is innovative; I’ve skimmed it. But young people have high aspirations. It’s normal to hit walls when starting out.”
The initial startup funds came from part-time jobs during their studies, though Ji Fan held ten percent more shares than Dan Wuyan.
After discussion, they split up to pitch to the investors they could reach.
Dan Wuyan was clueless about social graces, how to converse with seasoned business elites, or how to pitch like Ji Fan—at least enough to get them to glance at their business plan amid their busy schedules.
Compared to Ji Fan, she was a complete novice in these matters.
But she refused to be a drag. While chasing investments, she studied at night how to interact comfortably with people from all walks, how to boost her emotional intelligence.
It seemed that ever since arriving in Switzerland, learning had become a constant for her.
They left their cramped rental early in the morning, splitting up after Ji Fan broke a dry piece of bread in half for her.
Dan Wuyan wrapped a scarf around her neck, slung her backpack over her shoulders, and nibbled on the bread half, stamping her feet in place to warm up.
On the tram, the wind and snow were shut outside, and her body gradually warmed. At her stop, Dan Wuyan rushed out first, her footsteps crunching into the snow as flakes whipped against her flushed face.
Walking along the snowy road, she received a text from Dan Linghua.
[Dear granddaughter, is it snowing heavily in Switzerland lately? Grandma’s worried about you. Are you eating and sleeping well? Reply when you see this.]
Dan Wuyan halted, found an eave, and replied.
[Grandma, I’m fine. Don’t worry.]
Soon after, Dan Wuyan quickened her pace; her meeting with the investor was approaching.
The whole pitch lasted just minutes. He flipped it open, skimmed two pages, and tossed it back, staring at her arrogantly: “Little girl, dreams are worthless against real life. Instead of wasting time, use that pathetic startup cash to buy some skincare. Look at your face!”
Dan Wuyan calmly bent down to pick up the plan, leaving silently as if she hadn’t heard the harsh words.
After he left, Jing Yan emerged from the innermost room. The man addressed her respectfully: “Eldest Miss.”
Would she return home after enough setbacks?
The man asked: “Eldest Miss, why not invest in her?”
Jing Yan’s face was cold as she replied: “Everything I have now belongs to the Jing family. I don’t want to complicate things for her that way.”
“Starting a business is her own affair. There are many paths in life that she must walk alone.”
“Then… was I too harsh just now?”
“Your evaluation was objective, analyzed correctly from an investor’s perspective. If she can’t handle those words, there’s no point in pursuing the venture.”
“…”
Exiting the investment firm, Dan Wuyan’s expression remained unchanged. Outside, the wind and snow raged on, flakes settling in her dark hair. She exhaled a puff of cold air, stowed the plan in her backpack to protect it from moisture, then rubbed her hands together.
This was the ninth rejection for her Deep Color app pitch. It dawned on Dan Wuyan belatedly; her eyes reddened at the corners, tears welling up.
The pain of denial rippled through her, dredging up old wounds.
“Wuyan, in every competition you enter, Mom only recognizes first place. Anything less is meaningless; you have no value in his eyes. Understand?”
Dan Wuyan nodded solemnly with wide eyes. For Dan Yu’s words, she toiled day and night—learning what she didn’t know, perfecting what she did to claim first without flaw.
All to make Li Changping turn back to their mother and daughter.
Dan Wuyan didn’t know how far she had to go or how high to climb for Dan Yu’s approval until the car accident stole that chance.
Tears spilled like a broken string of pearls into her palm. She cracked her knuckles, gazing at the pristine snow on the ground. Dan Wuyan couldn’t fathom why she cried now—was it the recent humiliation, the string of failures striking deep?
Yet Ji Fan’s presence proved that rejections littered the entrepreneurial path, and she was just one among millions.
She hurried to more firms, met with more refusals. After a day of rushing about, Dan Wuyan boarded the return tram.
She curled up with her backpack on the seat, head tilted in sleep. When Jing Yan boarded, she sat quietly beside her without waking her.
Dan Wuyan’s drooping head came to rest on Jing Yan’s shoulder. She gently stroked Dan Wuyan’s sleeping face; parts of her cheeks were chapped from the wind and snow. Heart aching, Jing Yan’s retracted fingertip trembled.
Intense longing and an inexpressible affection had taken root in her heart. Compared to Dan Wuyan, she was the true coward.
Jing Yan restrained the urge to wake her.
Awakening from her dream, Dan Wuyan nearly missed her stop, bolting up and rushing off the tram. Jing Yan watched her hurried silhouette from the back.
Outside, the wind and snow continued; Dan Wuyan buried her stinging face in her scarf. The tram pulled away, Jing Yan watching that figure recede into the distance…
