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

Chapter 445 A Battle of Wits

[Let's find buyers for our properties in Hunts Corner.]

Sell?

Cassie forgot to wear her slippers and ran barefoot into the study, turned on the computer, and pulled up information on several properties in Cape Henz.

She remembered the purchase price clearly. Back then, in Cape Henz, even delivery drivers wouldn't deliver there after dark; land was so cheap it was practically free.

Lynn had asked her and Elena to buy land here to build staff dormitories, which she thought was a good thing. But something was strange: Lynn had them buy an alarming amount of land. Even if they opened several more hospitals and the number of staff multiplied several times, there still wouldn't be enough housing on all that land.

But later on, she completely changed her mind.

Cassie clicked on the latest market valuation.

Perhaps because the initial price was too low, land prices at Cape Hunts have increased several times over.

And it continues to rise.

In the entire South Bronx, apart from the area where the Hope Trauma Center is located, this area is the most sought-after, with new buyers entering every week, a continuous decline in crime rates, and municipal projects being approved one after another.

According to Cassie's estimate, if they hold on a little longer, they can earn even more.

She stared at the screen and bit her lip.

But Lynn said, "Sell."

Then we'll listen to him.

Listening to Lynn is always the right thing to do; this is an indelible mark etched into Cassie's soul.

After all, their camaraderie was forged on the operating table. In that environment, every instance of questioning meant a delay of several seconds or even more, and many patients couldn't afford such delays.

Cassie closed the valuation page, picked up her phone, and called the broker.

"Bruce? Arrange a property viewing for me. Those properties in Cape Hunts, the sooner the better."

"How about Saturday morning? I'll invite the interested buyers over and show them the warehouse and the vacant land."

"It's around 10 o'clock. After you've seen it, have them leave their quote."

Bruce posted the property information and sale notice on the real estate website and sent it to his clients. As soon as the information was released, the phone rang from morning till night with inquiries.

Nine groups of people attended the property viewing event.

Cassie stood at the warehouse entrance, a temporary tag hanging around her neck that read "Owner Representative." These words made her proud for a while; she was now a propertied class.

However, her attire was completely out of place for the bourgeoisie. Today, she wore a short jacket and canvas shoes, and her dazzling red hair was casually tied up.

Bruce, standing next to him, was dressed in a gray suit with silver cufflinks and gleaming leather shoes. The two of them standing together didn't look like they were there to do the same thing at all.

Nine groups of people were scattered across the plot of land, finding everything interesting.

A while ago, we invited people to look at this land, but they were too lazy to even bother with it.

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The night before the land purchase, Cassie sat cross-legged on the sofa, holding a bowl of instant noodles, watching Lynn draw circles on the map.

"You don't mean to film a zombie movie here, do you?"

"Land prices in these areas will increase many times over."

"On what grounds?"

"Given the crime rate here."

Cassie nearly choked on her noodles: "The crime rate here is ridiculously high, and you're telling me it's based on the crime rate?"

"Even tenants don't dare to come to a place like Cape Henz, let alone invest here."

Lynn interrupted Cassie, who was about to say something, with a confident look on her face: "The crime rate at Cape Hens will soon come down."

How did you know?

"The same thing will happen at Cape Henz, just like here. Think about it, what will happen after the crime rate drops?"

"Land prices are going up."

"There's more to come. The first developer saw the data, did some research, and bought a piece of land. The second person saw him buy it and figured this guy must know something they didn't, so they bought it too. By the time the fifth person entered the market, nobody bothered to look up the original crime report anymore. The tenth person came in, and the land price doubled. At this point, the price increase itself became the reason to buy."

"It's already risen so much, it'll definitely keep rising."

Cassie chewed on his noodles, pondering for a moment. "So, it seems like everyone had this mindset during the 2008 subprime mortgage crisis."

"Everyone has the same idea. Even the bankers are packaging mortgage loans into bonds, separating them into those that pay upfront, and..."

The later layers of buyers. Those at the beginning, with AAA credit ratings (the highest), reassure buyers. As for whether those who took out mortgages have the money to repay, who's going to check each and every one of them?

"The crime data after Cape Hens is equivalent to that AAA rating."

"The data is impressive, clean, and all indicators are improving."

Cassie gestured with her chopsticks. "Stuff the trash into the cupboard, lock the door, and then list the house on Airbnb. The photos will look like five stars no matter how you look at them."

"The cabinet will eventually be opened, won't it?"

"It's only a matter of time. Once someone discovers that the crime is still going on, just in a different place, those who bought in at rising prices will all run away, and land prices will fall back down."

Cassie stuffed the last bite of noodles into her mouth.

"So what you're letting me earn is the money I made while the cabinet door was still closed."

"Buy it when everyone thinks the room is clean. While they still think it's clean—"

"Sell".

Today is the day to sell.

The highlight of this property viewing was the warehouse. It was a single-story steel structure with a ceiling height of over seven meters, three unloading docks, and a large open space next to it.

The first page of the materials Bruce sent to the buyers contained the zoning documents that the city had just approved, with the line "Residential permitted" highlighted in bold.

When the land was purchased, it could only be used for industrial purposes. Now that residential and commercial use has been permitted, several buyers didn't even ask how much rent they could collect from the warehouse; their first question was how many apartments could be built after the demolition.

As for how to loosen restrictions, that was the solution devised by our mayor.

Three groups of developers were busy taking measurements and taking photos; one group even brought an engineer with them.

Two groups of cold chain logistics workers circled the unloading dock. Some stood by the platform and gestured to estimate whether there would be enough space for other vehicles to pass after the trucks backed up to load and unload.

There were also two groups of independent investors, a real estate fund, and a middle-aged couple. The husband was wearing an ill-fitting suit, and the wife was carrying a large file folder. The two of them looked around, like tourists visiting New York for the first time.

The engineer turned around, leaned close to the boss, and whispered a few words. The boss's eyes lit up immediately. This large, contiguous plot of land, according to the initial layout under the new regulations, could accommodate a six-story building. Of all the plots they'd been looking at lately, this was the most suitable.

He first added up the area of ​​the warehouse and the open space, multiplied it by the floor area ratio allowed in the new zoning, roughly calculated how many floors could be built, and then divided it into six floors.

The boss kept staring at the number of apartments he had written down. The engineer reminded him that the building plan needed to be submitted separately and the construction permit also needed to be obtained. He just nodded and then asked if it was possible to add one more apartment per floor.

Cassie, holding a bottle of water, leaned against a corner of the warehouse, letting them wander around. When someone asked about the ceiling height, she gave them a number. When someone asked about the area, she opened the blueprints and pointed it out to them.

She didn't rush me, didn't praise how great the place was, and didn't actively promote it.

Bruce was getting restless and quietly crept over. "How about I show them that open space over there?"

"They'll ask themselves," Cassie said confidently.

Five minutes later, the engineer indeed came over. "Do you have the detailed dimensions of the open space next door?"

"Page 3 of the drawings."

Cassie lowered her head and took a sip of water, using the bottle to hide the smile on her lips.