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

"In a Black community, there are only two paths for a Black kid like me to turn their life around."

"Or, if God gives you a handout, go play ball or sing rap."

"Or, go to the street corner and help your brother sell boosters."

"When I was wheeled into the operating room the day before yesterday, I thought I was done for."

"At that moment, I wasn't thinking about whether I could play basketball, but rather, what else could I do if I didn't play basketball?"

"I don't even have a decent diploma, and I can't do anything except dunk."

"Maybe it won't be long before I have to go back to that neighborhood."

"Then one day, because you can't pay off a small loan, or just because you glanced at a gang member..."

Marcus made a gun gesture and pointed to his temple.

"Bang."

"It became an unidentified corpse featured on the evening news, sold to some unknown recycling agency."

"This is our world, Doctor. There's no middle ground; it's either a superstar or trash."

Linn was silent.

He looked at the young man in front of him, who was not yet 20 years old.

indeed.

In this seemingly glamorous beacon of light, a person's life can often slip down on a single, unfortunate day.

Especially for those from the lower classes who lack family wealth, perhaps just one injury, a serious illness, or a divorce could be enough to cause serious harm.

Lynn, who had witnessed countless deaths in a top-tier hospital in her previous life, was also somewhat moved.

Just then, there was a knock on the ward door.

Although it was a knock, the door was pushed open before there was a response from inside.

A middle-aged white man in a suit walked in, carrying a briefcase, followed by two assistants.

Good morning, Mr. Kim!

The middle-aged white man's smile was so bright it bordered on obsequious.

"I am Dr. Williams, the medical director of the Mount Sinai Rehabilitation Center."

"The transport vehicle is already downstairs."

"They have the best hyperbaric oxygen chambers and spa facilities in the US, compared to here..."

Dr. Williams scanned the room, which was considered top-of-the-line at Metropolitan Hospital.

He covered his nose in disgust, as if he smelled something shabby or poor.

"...This place is clearly not suitable for a superstar of your stature to recuperate."

This is American healthcare.

When you have no money, you wait to die in the emergency room.

When you have an 80 million contract, a professional rehabilitation doctor will pick you up in a luxury car and take you to a rehabilitation center that's like a five-star hotel.

Marcus nodded, signaling his assistant to pack up.

Before leaving, he seemed to remember something and took out a business card from the bedside table.

High-end goods with gold foil stamping.

"Dr. Lin."

Marcus handed Lynn his business card with great seriousness.

"I've never used this thing before. It was just printed by my agent before the accident."

"This is the first business card I've ever handed out; you're my first Asian friend."

"If my teammates or friends get injured in the future, I will tell them to come to you."

As he spoke, he pulled another envelope out of his bag.

"If you want to come watch a Knicks game, call me anytime."

"I'll save you two tickets for the sidelines, and you can bring your girlfriend with the other one."

"Lin, do you have a girlfriend? I've heard that most Asians..."

"Why don't you go after Dr. Vanderbilt? I've never seen a woman with such a great figure and such beauty in real life."

"She's a doctor? Are you kidding me, or is she some celebrity acting in a movie at the hospital?"

Marcus blinked and gave a knowing smile that any man would understand.

He then extended his fist.

"Believe me, no girl in the metropolis can resist the front row at Madison Square Garden."

Dr. Williams, standing to the side, was getting impatient and was about to urge them on.

Seeing Marcus's attitude toward the young doctor, he wisely refrained from interrupting, only glancing at Lynn a couple more times.

"Thanks, Bro."

"Please thank Dr. Vanderbilt for me."

Lynn took the business card and envelope with his left hand.

He punches Marcus with his right hand.

Goodbye, Bro.

Watching the group leave in a grand procession, Lynn glanced down at the envelope in his hand.

Inside are two VIP season ticket vouchers for the Knicks' home games.

Based on current market prices, this ticket could fetch at least three thousand dollars on the scalper market.

Two of them would cost six thousand dollars.

That's equivalent to two months of his current take-home pay.

Since I've already started my own side business, I don't lack the money. I might as well preserve the friendship with this future superstar.

After bidding farewell to Marcus's VIP time, Lynn returned to the assembly line in the emergency department.

No matter how much Victoria protected him, and no matter how much Professor Hudson thought highly of him, he was still just an intern who had been there for less than a year.

Resident physicians are at the very bottom of the hospital's food chain.

Do the dirtiest work, work the longest shifts, and get the lowest pay.

Then they are exploited layer by layer by the attending physicians, department heads, and professors above them.

On this point, the whole world is remarkably in agreement.

While stitching up the forearm of a drunkard who had been cut by a broken bottle in a bar, Lynn was also thinking about her side hustle.

The underground clinic has opened.

If Joe does his first deal cleanly and efficiently, his reputation will gradually spread in those gray areas.

However, relying solely on Miller to introduce customers is too inefficient.

Once a certain number of patients are treated, a fission effect will occur.

Lynn believed that with his skills in matching gunshot wounds, he would not lack customers in the free country of America.

But the problem is, he doesn't have time.

Emergency room shifts start at 80 hours per week.

He needs to find a way to get out of this mess.

Go to a department with more freedom.

Lynn took out her phone and skillfully accessed the OnlyFans creator backend.

Data refresh.

Subscribers: 104.

When he first came, the number was only 51.

Just four days later, the number doubled.

Don't underestimate these mere 53 new additions.

Victoria's account, "Dr.V," is priced at a hefty $29.99 per month.

In the highly competitive market of OnlyFans, where subscriptions cost $5 or even offer free referrals, this price is definitely in the "affordable luxury" category.

Lynn quickly went through the calculations in his mind.

The new turnover is approximately $1500.

After deducting the platform's 20% commission, $1200 is left.

According to the 25% revenue sharing agreement, I would receive $300.

Although it wasn't much, it was a good start.

If this growth curve is maintained, it will reach 1,000 subscribers in three months.

Earning 30,000 dollars a month will not be a dream then.

Lynn made a phone call to Victoria:

"Our agreement has been reached."

"Forest?"

Victoria's voice carried a hint of surprise, but more so, impatience.

"It's your workday now, so focus on seeing your patients."

"beep--"

It's over.

A few seconds later, a new message appeared on the screen.

Victoria: Wait for me in the parking lot after get off work.

Lynn looked at the screen and raised an eyebrow.

Only the head nurse and the head of the emergency department know my shift schedule for tonight.

How could she know so much?

Desire for control.

This is an illness, and it needs treatment.

……