Chapter Seventeen Northern Dipper Daily, seeking collection and recommendation

  New book uploaded, seeking collection, seeking recommendation

  Isabelle Dervaux and Bluntschli arrived at the Dervaux's shop on Dover Street, while Juzi had already hailed a cab to take him to the British Patent Office on the north bank of the Thames to apply for a patent for that day's potentially deadly diethyl ether.

  "Isabel, how did you come?" Mrs. Dulan rushed out of the store with an excited face, holding the countess's jade hand and smiling: "You're here to find Jason, aren't you? Unfortunately, he just went out."

  "Has he gone out? I wonder if he's going to submit his work to The Times? That rascal is really something...” Isabelle thought, if that were the case, all her efforts on this rascal would have been in vain. It seems investing in a man also comes with risks. With these thoughts, her two slender eyebrows naturally furrowed slightly, as if she was worried about Zhu Jishi's well-being.

  "Isabel, you're in such a hurry to get here, aren't you also fond of Jason?" Mrs. Dulan smiled and looked at the countess, "Hmmm, he's not a bad young man, can consider becoming Mrs. Zhu."

  "What? A Tartar? What a joke!" The countess cast a glance at Madame Dulan, and then walked lightly into the shop. "By the way, Roman, nothing has happened between you and that Tartar, has it? That Tartar's future is already finished."

  Upon seeing the countess's expression, Madame Dulan felt a slight relief in her heart. She smiled and exchanged greetings with Bluntschli, then followed the countess into the small shop, walking and smiling as she said to her sister: "What can happen between him and me anyway? Besides, I think Jason is not a bad marriage candidate now because he will soon become rich."

  "Get rich?" Isabelle looked at her sister in confusion, "Roman, you said he would get rich?"

  "Isabel, Jason has just invented two wonderful medicines extracted from opium. He's gone out to apply for a patent..."

  "Medicine extracted from opium? Morphine? Someone has already done that." Bronstein, who had just walked into the clothing store, pulled over a chair and sat down with a thud. He was also getting on in years, and this back-and-forth journeying was exhausting enough.

  "No, not morphine... it's something extracted from morphine, called hydrochloride of morphine." Mrs. Dulan smiled and said: "I've already had Henry try that stuff out, he says it's ten times stronger than opium... Jason also says that he extracts another drug called diethylmorphine, which is dozens of times more effective than opium!"

  "Tens of times!"

  "Roman!"

  Blonsky and the countess exclaimed at the same time, the former because of what Madame Duroy had said about the extraordinary strength of the morphine, and the latter as if she were reproaching Madame Duroy for poisoning French youth with narcotics.

  "Isabel, I know the dosage." Mrs. Durrance opened a drawer, took out a coffee cup, placed it on the counter and lifted the lid, inside was a small amount of morphine hydrochloride that looked like powdered milk.

  "Is this... dihydrocodeine? Or hydrocodone?"

  It's morphine hydrochloride.

  Blomberg carefully picked up a pinch of powder with his fingers, sniffed it at the tip of his nose, then stuck out his tongue to taste it, and finally looked at Madame Dulan and asked: "Madam, how do you use this thing?"

  "Jason said there are many ways of using it, orally, by inhalation and also by injection..."

  "Inject it!?" Blonshtein's eyes widened, staring at the powder, "This thing can be injected? Is its solubility in water good?"

  Mrs. Dulan spread her hands and shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know, Jason said... but the tone of his speech was very affirmative."

  "If it can be injected, it has ten times the effect of morphine. It's really a good thing!" Bronshtein sighed, "I didn't expect this Tartar to be a chemist, what a talent! Unfortunately..."

  "What a pity it's just a bit stupid!" Isabelle said in a bad tone, "What's the use of any miraculous medicine if doctors don't help sell it? Not selling doesn't mean zero?"

  "Hasn't he gone to The Times yet?" Bronstein put the cube back into his coffee cup, fell silent for a moment, and a rough business plan began to take shape in his mind. This old Jewish immigrant from Germany was a natural-born businessman, so he always thought about the commercial opportunities first when looking at anything. In today's Europe, opium was a "panacea", but its efficacy was not very ideal, so some more expensive medicines used morphine, but the effect was still not very good. If this morphine salt and diethyl morphine really had ten to several dozen times the effect of opium, it went without saying how great the market prospects would be!

  "Madam, could you give me this morphine sulfate?"

  "For you?" Mrs. Dulan's face showed a difficult expression, after inhaling the opium with a small amount of salt acid morphine added, that French kid felt he couldn't leave this thing behind. But Zhu Jishi was very stingy, only giving him so little, and said it was Henry's ration for ten days, letting Mrs. Dulan keep it, and only give Henry a tiny bit every day...

  "Madam, I think I'll study the morphine hydrochloride," said Bronshtein to Isabelle. "Countess, this drug is likely to have an extremely high value - if it really has the magical properties that Madame Dulan says it does, and if used properly, it will certainly make us rich!"

  "Get rich!"

  "Yes, those Royal Medical Society guys aren't as stubborn as they look on the surface. They won't refuse real good medicine. And this Tartar doctor is just the inventor of morphine hydrochloride, not necessarily a manufacturer or seller."

  "Dr. Bluntschli, what do you mean?"

  "Countess, we can cooperate with this Tartar to open a pharmacy. If he is really being squeezed out by the Royal Medical Society and the pharmacy business fails, then you can step in and spend some small money to buy the patent rights of morphine hydrochloride and diethylmorphine..."

  Dr. Bluntschli's words were hardly out of his mouth when the sound of horseshoes and carriage wheels was heard outside, followed by the sight of Chui Zhi rushing in with hasty steps.

  ……

  "Isabelle, how did you get here?" As soon as he entered the door, Zhu Jisheng saw that the bright and charming Countess was sitting next to the counter, smiling at him. The other woman who was gazing at him with affection was directly ignored.

  "Jason, is the patent registration going smoothly?"

  The process of registering the patent for dihydrocodeine and hydrocodone was not complicated. After submitting the relevant technical documents and paying a patent registration fee, the staff at the British Patent Office only briefly reviewed the files and, after determining that no one had registered similar patents before, told Zhu Jishi that the Patent Committee would approve his patent application within three weeks at most.

  They also told Zeng Jize that the British Empire had already signed patent protection treaties with major countries such as France, the United States, Germany (referring to the German Confederation), and the Russian Empire. Therefore, patents registered in the UK can be protected in most parts of the world. Of course, if possible, it is still best to re-register these patents in the patent departments of those countries. Currently, the protection period for patented inventions in the UK is 14 years (21 years in the US), but an annual fee must be paid to the Patent Office.

  In this era, the patent registration work of Western powers is already relatively perfect. Although it can't be compared with later generations, it's enough to become an important driving force for a series of technological revolutions that took place in Western countries. If Zhū Jìshì were now living in the Qing Dynasty, even if he had invented penicillin and TNT explosives, he would not have been able to obtain patent authorization in the Qing Dynasty and would have had to travel thousands of miles to Europe.

  "Very smooth," Zhu Jishi nodded, a pleased smile appearing on his face. "Isabel, Roman has told you about diethyl ether, right? This is a magical medicine! It will completely change the pattern of the European medical market, so I plan to open a Jason pharmacy, specializing in the production and sale of diethyl ether and morphine hydrochloride. I think I'll get rich soon because of diethyl ether and morphine hydrochloride!"

  He walked excitedly around the small shop, rubbing his hands together and saying: "Who knows, maybe I can make ￡1 million quickly, or even more..."

  Isabelle listened to Jason's depiction of the prospects for the poison business, and instead of showing a joyful expression, she slightly frowned and looked at him with some concern: "Jason, do you really want to make an enemy of the Royal Medical Society by publishing an article in The Times?"

  "Are you an enemy?" Zhu Jishi waved his hand and smiled: "Not as an enemy, but by stepping on their shoulders to fame! I need a lot of reputation to promote the sales of Erjibai morphine, hydrochloride morphine and some other new medicines... In fact, those people in the Royal Medical Society will eventually thank me, because I am correcting some terrible mistakes, and also bringing them opportunities to get rich."

  "Alright," Isabelle gazed at the excited Zhu Jishi, sighing, "If you think this is the right path, then go ahead, I won't try to dissuade you. However, newspapers like The Times are quite conservative, they probably won't publish your article anytime soon."

  "Will The Times publish it?" Zhu Jishi hesitated, looking at the countess. "Isabelle, do you have any good suggestions?"

  The countess fell silent for a moment, then nodded and said: "Jason, do you still remember that Will Heming?"

  "The officer who nearly killed Mr Churchill?"

  "He is no longer an officer but a reporter for the Northern Star, which newspaper delights in exposing the dark side of British society."

  "The Northern Star?" Zhu Jishi vaguely remembered that there was such a newspaper, not seen in the future, but bought a copy of "The Northern Star" for two cents on his way to work at Oumen Hospital. "Okay, but where can I find Will Heming?"

  "He is now not in London, at The Northern Star's office in Manchester, address..."

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