American Medicine: I survived the death knell thanks to the devil.

After being seconded to Victoria's VIP medical team, Lynn's life was indeed much better.

No need to work non-stop in the emergency room, dealing with homeless people who have taken too much medication and urinate or defecate anywhere.

All I need to do is keep an eye on the recovery of that prospective top scorer and write up his medical progress notes.

Just after 5 p.m., Lynn clocked out of get off work.

This also gave him time to manage his side business.

When we arrived at the usual spot, Cassie's "Doomsday Survival Vehicle" was already waiting for us.

Lynn, holding the expensive bouquet of roses, opened the side door.

The flower retainer was sprayed just right; even after a day, it still looks almost the same as when it was freshly picked.

"who!"

The girl in the carriage jumped up like a startled rabbit, clutching a rag soaked in disinfectant.

Cassie Quinn breathed a sigh of relief after recognizing Lynn, patting the empty chest of her scrub uniform.

"I was terrified... I thought it was a homeless person trying to steal the wheel hub."

Lynn handed over the flowers she was holding.

"This is for you. Use it to decorate our operating room."

His idea was simple: a good surgical environment would make both doctors and patients much more comfortable.

"A gift...a gift for me?"

Cassie was stunned.

She subconsciously wiped her hands on her apron, staring blankly at the unusual bouquet.

Even though she knew nothing about floral arrangements, she could tell that it was quite valuable.

She opened her phone, took a picture, and started searching.

The next second, her distorted scream rang out in the carriage.

"My God! Lynn! Did you rob a flower shop? These are Austin roses, also known as 'Juliet'."

"I read online that this kind of flower once sold for three million pounds at auction? Even if it's cheaper now, a full bunch of it would still cost over a thousand dollars, right?!"

Cassie excitedly circled around the flowers.

"We're rich! We're really rich! If we take the petals off right now, use the silicone drying method to make those high-end bookmarks, and then set up a stall under the Williamsburg Bridge to sell them to hippies and artsy types."

"Selling them $5 for a single petal isn't unreasonable, is it? This bunch could yield at least several hundred petals..."

She talked incessantly about her grand business plans, as if she could already see Franklin flying everywhere.

But as she spoke, her voice grew softer and softer.

Cassie stopped her animated movements, her fingertips hovering over the delicate apricot petals, hesitant to actually pluck them.

She grew up in a Brooklyn slum and has three younger sisters.

In order to turn her life around and to get into medical school, she has only had two things in her life for more than 20 years: studying and making money.

The flowers and chocolates that girls her age received at the ball were luxuries for her.

No boy has ever given her flowers.

Everyone knows that Quinn's eldest daughter is a money-grubbing nerd and a boring oddball.

But now, this large bouquet of roses, exuding a faint tea fragrance, was unexpectedly stuffed into her arms.

Cassie's freckles turned bright red.

Sell ​​it? She was a little reluctant.

"Never mind... it would be a shame to take it apart. If the petals are damaged, it won't be worth anything."

She muttered a lame excuse.

He turned around and rummaged through the pile of junk for a while, eventually finding a large glass beaker that was originally used to measure solutions.

She wiped the beaker inside and out several times before filling it with half a cup of water.

Then, she carefully placed the bouquet of "Juliet" inside.

In this cramped space filled with the smells of engine oil and bleach, the soft apricot rose seemed out of place.

Just like her, a girl who wanted to look up at the stars from the mud.

"Thank you, Dr. Lin."

Cassie had her back to Lynn, her voice slightly nasal.

"Alright, Dr. Quinn, let's see the results of that thousand dollars."

He tactfully changed the subject, maintaining just the right amount of politeness between colleagues.

Lynn had previously given Cassie a thousand dollars as a preparation fund for the operating room.

Upon hearing the title "Dr. Quinn," Cassie sniffed, then turned around and reverted to her usual cheerful self.

Only her red nose gave her away.

"You will definitely be satisfied."

Cassie pointed to the inside of the carriage.

Lynn looked around and nodded.

It must be said, this is the wisdom of the poor.

The original mottled and rusty interior walls of the carriage were completely covered with thick, transparent industrial plastic sheeting.

That was the cheapest dust cover in Home Depot, with the seams sealed tightly with super tape, forming a relatively closed "airbag".

A strong smell of chlorine filled the air.

Clearly, she used a large amount of bleach to thoroughly disinfect the entire space.

On a small table in the corner, there was a small box with a faint purple glow.

It was a UV sterilizer cabinet discarded by a nail salon, inside which lay several shiny scalpel handles and hemostats.

"The plastic sheet and tape cost eighty dollars."

"That sterilizer was a bargain from the nail salon on the next street that went out of business; it was $20."

"With the remaining money, I bought a large barrel of medical alcohol, two boxes of gloves, and..."

Cassie opened the drawer, revealing neatly stacked stitching and lidocaine inside.

"Although we can't perform major surgeries like open-chest or craniotomy, this place is a hundred times cleaner than those shady clinics in Chinatown for treating gunshot wounds, knife wounds, or cleaning and suturing."

Lynn reached out and touched the plastic protective film.

It's very thick and dust-free.

For an underground clinic of this level, achieving this level of cleanliness is truly commendable.

"Well done, Dr. Quinn."

Lynn was generous with her praise.

Cassie scratched her messy red hair sheepishly, but couldn't help but smile, revealing her little fangs.

Lynn took out her phone, opened her contacts, and found "Mammon".

……

"Dr. Lin?"

Miller's voice came through the phone, accompanied by the soft sounds of a knife and fork cutting steak; clearly, the FBI agent was enjoying dinner.

"What, it's not even the day to pay out the whistleblower reward yet, and you're already impatient?"

"No, Agent Miller, I'm here to deliver business to you."

Lynn leaned against the back door of the ambulance, her voice calm.

"I'm all ready."

"Just like we agreed before."

"I'll handle those problems that make it inconvenient for you to go to a major hospital."

"No ID, no Social Security number, no CCTV footage. Whether your friend has a gunshot wound or some other difficult situation, we can handle it."

Miller stopped eating and chuckled softly.

"Dr. Lin, I, Miller, was right. You're very efficient."

Lynn then presented his own proposal.

"In addition, I would like to pick up my own guests, and I hope you can provide some assistance."

"In return, I'm willing to offer you 40% of my profits as a consulting fee."

This was a price he had carefully considered.

Lynn waited a few seconds, but didn't receive a reply from the other end of the phone.