Chapter 27

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On a certain day in early January 1843, the long-absent Countess Isabel Denave came to the door again, bringing with her a young man with striking features. From his attire and demeanor, it was clear he was a pillar of the British Empire—a gentleman.

The young gentleman's gaze slid over Mrs. Durand, who wore a lazy smile, and then settled on Zhu Jishi.

"Andrew, this is Jason Zhu," the countess, still as noble and beautiful as ever, introduced with a gentle voice. "This is Andrew Jones, a lawyer from the Jones Law Firm. He is an excellent lawyer."

Zhu Jishi nodded to the countess in gratitude, but he knew that the lawyer she had arranged for him was not an excellent one, just a novice. It was unlikely that he could win against the lawyers of the Royal College of Physicians with just his words. The "defamation" lawsuit in five days was, in theory, a lost cause.

"Mr. Jones, how confident are you about this case?" Zhu Jishi picked up the coffee Mrs. Durand had personally brewed, took a sip, and asked with a smile.

Jones looked troubled, shook his head slightly, and said, "Mr. Zhu, to be frank, you have no chance of winning. This case is a sure loss. The Royal College of Physicians is the authoritative body in British medicine. If they deem your accusations against British hospitals and doctors baseless, the court will adopt their opinion... I think you understand that this is a civil lawsuit, so there is no jury. If the judge adopts the opinion of the Royal College of Physicians, you will lose!"

Zhu Jishi chuckled, nodded in satisfaction, and thought to himself, "This lawyer is indeed a novice, but he is an honest gentleman."

"Jason, Mr. Jones suggests you settle out of court with the Royal College of Physicians..." the countess interjected, frowning, seemingly genuinely concerned for Zhu Jishi. However, Zhu Jishi knew she was just putting on a show.

"What if I have irrefutable evidence to prove my point is entirely correct?" Zhu Jishi ignored the countess and asked Mr. Jones.

"Mr. Zhu, I think you still don't understand. The Royal College of Physicians is the recognized authority in British medicine. If they deem your evidence invalid, the judge will likely adopt their opinion, which is entirely in line with legal procedures," Mr. Jones looked at Zhu Jishi, who seemed confident, and shook his head slightly. "Mr. Zhu, if you refuse to settle, after losing in the London County Court, you can appeal to the Court of Appeal for England and Wales, then to the Supreme Court of the United Kingdom, and finally to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council and Queen Victoria. However... that would just be a waste of money!"

"Mr. Jones, according to what you say, isn't it as if the Royal College of Physicians is both the plaintiff and the judge?" Mrs. Durand interjected, dissatisfied.

"Indeed, that is the case, so..."

"No, the judge is not the Royal College of Physicians or the British court, but scientific truth!" Zhu Jishi waved his hand to interrupt Mr. Jones and said with a smile, "Mr. Jones, I will definitely win this case because scientific truth is on my side!"

"Jason!" the countess looked at Zhu Jishi with a reproachful gaze, "Mr. Jones is a professional, you should listen to his advice."

"Isabel, don't worry, I will definitely win this case! No matter how the British court rules, Heroin Pharmacy and I will be the winners! When the Royal College of Physicians filed the lawsuit and the London County Court accepted it, they placed themselves in the position of the Inquisition!" Zhu Jishi's smile was quite meaningful, "A scientific disagreement cannot be resolved by a court trial. The people of the Royal College of Physicians are making such a foolish mistake, which is truly disappointing!"

"Mr. Zhu, your point can be raised in court," Mr. Jones's eyebrows lifted slightly, as if he saw a glimmer of hope for a win, but then he frowned, "However, the court is unlikely to adopt this view."

Zhu Jishi shrugged and smiled, "Then they should prepare to be the laughingstock of the world!"

...

At this very moment, inside Blenheim Palace in Oxfordshire, a pair of impeccably dressed brothers sat facing each other, each holding a cup of fragrant Chinese black tea.

"Robert, do you think the Tartar doctor's words are likely to be correct?"

The speaker was George Spencer-Churchill, the 6th Duke of Marlborough, and the grandfather of the future British Prime Minister Winston Churchill. At present, he was the Lord Lieutenant of Oxfordshire, roughly equivalent to a county magistrate in China. He was a loyal Conservative and belonged to the same party as the current British Prime Minister, Robert Peel. Since the Conservatives were in power, they naturally became the main target of the Chartists' attacks and were responsible for the series of suppressions and bloodshed since September 1842. However, Oxfordshire had always been a wealthy area in England with few proletarians, so no protests had occurred.

However, he was still very concerned about the direction of the Chartist movement and had noticed that the radical newspapers supporting the Chartists were using Zhu Jishi's articles and views to smear British "charity hospitals." They even extended the topic to the poor living conditions in the workers' districts of British cities, comparing them to the upper-class residential areas where the bourgeoisie and nobility lived, concluding that the nobility and bourgeoisie were using filthy environments to create diseases and plagues to eliminate the "excess" working class...

"George, the fact that I am sitting here drinking tea is enough to prove that the Tartar doctor's words are correct," replied the Duke of Marlborough's younger brother, the fat Robert Churchill, who had just bought a lieutenant colonel's commission.

The Duke of Marlborough gently turned the teacup in his hand and shook his head, "Many truths are often obscured by falsehoods for a time, perhaps for ten or twenty years. History may prove that the Tartar was right."

"What if we can't wait that long?" The fat Churchill sipped his black tea, reached out with his fat hand, and took a bite of a pastry from the afternoon tea table. "What if, just after the London County Court declares Jason Zhu a fraud and a slanderer, a scientist proves his point entirely correct? George, what do you think the European public opinion will say about us? Will they compare us to the Roman Catholic Church?"

The Duke of Marlborough stroked his chin, "That's a problem... but it's unlikely to happen. However, it is indeed strange that the London County Court and the Royal College of Physicians would take such an academic issue to court." He looked at his fat brother, "Robert, what if this Tartar escapes before the trial officially begins? That would be a good thing for everyone, wouldn't it?"

"Escape?" The fat Churchill shrugged, "I understand, George. I will visit him on Dover Street. But what if this Tartar refuses to leave?"

"Refuse to leave?" The Duke of Marlborough frowned, sighed after a moment, "Refusing to leave can only mean two things... either he is confident of winning and waiting to see the Royal College of Physicians make a fool of themselves! Or he is a bookworm... If it's the latter, there's no need to worry. If it's the former, I really want to meet him..."