Chapter Sixty-Nine: Boundaries and Schemes

If it had been in his previous life, with Zhao Zejun’s real exam results still pending, Zhao Tao and his wife would never have felt at ease enough to travel, no matter what. But in this life, Zhao Zejun had gradually gained his parents’ trust step by step, so the idea of a trip came about naturally.

Dealing with relocation inevitably meant interacting with the relocation office, which didn’t just involve people from the real estate company but also a motley crew who would resort to all sorts of unpleasant tactics. Not wanting his parents to be harassed, Zhao Zejun simply booked them a tour package through a travel agency.

Yet, when the time came, Zhao Tao and his wife, perhaps still wanting to save money, decided against a trip and chose instead to visit relatives—first going to Jianwu City, the provincial capital and Zhao Tao’s hometown, then to Hu City, Zhou Ya’s hometown.

After his parents left, Zhao Zejun carefully studied the relocation notice once more.

In his memory, the content of the notice and the compensation terms were exactly the same as in his previous life.

In reality, the minimum compensation offered by both the city and the real estate company was far lower than the agreement currently published; there was ample room for negotiation, and one could absolutely bargain from this base.

If you obediently handed over your keys and moved out according to the current terms, the extra portion would ultimately become bonuses and benefits for the relocation office. Many in the relocation office had gotten rich in this very way in his previous life.

Zhao Zejun compared the notice to his memory from before, analyzing each clause.

The biggest trick lay in the square footage.

The notice stated that for any property less than 45 square meters, compensation would be based on 45. Even if your house was only one square meter, you’d still get at least 45 after demolition.

This was calculated on the basis of a three-person household, at 15 square meters per person—the city’s minimum housing standard.

Additionally, you could purchase extra space at a very low price, increasing from 45 up to 60 square meters; beyond that, you could continue to buy up to 90, or even more, at escalating prices.

On the surface, these terms seemed excellent—indeed, they were. Most homes in Gaogang Village were shacks of a dozen or twenty square meters; to exchange that for a 45-square-meter apartment in the city was like a pie falling from the sky.

But there was a big catch.

Think about it: even now, let alone in 2005, who builds 45-square-meter apartments except for subsidized housing?

Zhao Zejun knew that in a few years, the smallest resettlement unit would be 60 square meters, with other options at 90 and 125.

In other words, without paying a cent for “additional purchase,” as long as you were willing to move, you’d end up with at least a 60-square-meter home.

So where did the money for the “additional purchase” between 45 and 60 square meters go?

All funds came from the real estate company, but this sum was neither returned to the company nor handed over to the government. Instead, it was kept as the relocation office’s “operational expenses” and “performance bonuses.”

The additional purchase from 45 to 60 was a fiction. But what about the extra from 60 to 90?

That part was real, but the price was negotiable.

Later, the relocation office published a sliding scale—400, 600, 800 per square meter—so for every 10 square meters above 60, the price increased.

In his past life, Zhao Zejun’s family held out for two months and finally got a deal where the 30 square meters above 60 were all priced at the lowest, 400 per square meter.

By comparison, Zhao Zejun estimated that 400 was probably the bottom line, since the resettlement floor plans did not include 70 or 80 square meters—after 60, the next option was 90.

Aside from square footage, cash compensation was another piece of the pie.

Officially, the only cash compensation was three years’ rent after demolition. After all, it would take three years to build the new apartments, and in the meantime, the residents needed somewhere to live; all households would receive a lump sum covering three years of rent, calculated by area and the current market rate.

Unofficially, there was also a cash incentive.

Property developers never use their own money; they use the land as collateral for bank loans, incurring high interest. Every day demolition is delayed, the developer pays a fortune in interest. To encourage residents to hand over their keys quickly, the relocation office could offer cash rewards at its discretion.

Someone like Zhao Zejun, with several properties, was in a strong position to negotiate a substantial cash bonus.

Where did the relocation office get the money for these rewards? From the markup on additional purchases. With nearly two thousand households in Gaogang Village, even if only a third opted to buy extra space, the office would have plenty of cash on hand.

There were also a few smaller tricks, all of which Zhao Zejun noted—after all, even the smallest gains add up, and only a fool would ignore a chance to pick low-hanging fruit.

On the second page of the relocation notice, there was a simple introduction to the office’s personnel.

The “Gaogang Village Relocation Office” sounded like a government body, but in fact, the main staff came from the developer, Baoye Real Estate. All the demolition, resettlement, and rebuilding were handled by Baoye, with only a few government workers providing assistance.

This meant that dealing with the office was essentially negotiating with Baoye—a commercial negotiation.

The imbalance of information allowed the relocation office to conceal its true “bottom line” and play all sorts of tricks.

On the residents’ side, not knowing the developer’s limits, and with the average person’s deep-seated respect for authority and fear of loss, most people in Gaogang Village in his previous life simply moved and paid for the extra space according to the original terms.

Zhao Zejun’s greatest advantage now was that he had lived through this relocation and afterwards heard the truth from many sources. He basically knew where the “bottom lines” lay.

The relocation office was housed in a two-story building between Gaogang Village and Zhao Zejun’s apartment building—a former government storefront, now temporarily serving as the office.

The first-floor hall was packed with people from Gaogang Village, all crowded around an information board, noisily discussing the notice.

“Little Zhao! Little Zhao!”

He heard someone calling him. Turning, he saw several men in suits and hard hats descending the stairs to the second floor. Among them was Director Li from the local administration, who was waving enthusiastically and calling his name.

Zhao Zejun squeezed through the crowd and greeted him loudly, “Hello, Director Li!”

“Don’t call me Director anymore—just call me Old Li. Come here, let me introduce you. This is Mr. Qian from Baoye, deputy director of the relocation office and in charge of operations. I just help out where I can.”

Zhao Zejun understood. The official director was likely a government leader in name only; since this was a commercial affair, the director wasn’t involved in the details. The real decision-maker was this gentle-looking Mr. Qian.

Standing on the stairs, Mr. Qian addressed him from above: “We’ve all heard about your achievements, Little Zhao—very impressive. I understand you own several properties in Gaogang Village, so we hope you’ll set a good example and actively support the relocation work.”

Zhao Zejun smiled and replied, “Of course I support the relocation. Once the measurements are done, I’ll be the first to sit down with the office to discuss compensation. Once we reach an agreement, I’ll move out immediately.”

His reply, neither yielding nor confrontational, made Mr. Qian’s face darken; he waved impatiently, saying, “The compensation plan has already been published—there’s nothing to discuss.”

Their first meeting had already turned tense. Old Li quickly stepped in to smooth things over, grinning: “All right, Little Zhao, you go ahead. I’ll show Mr. Qian around Gaogang Village.”

“Of course,” Zhao Zejun said with a polite smile, stepping aside.