Chapter Seventy-Seven: Chemical Reaction

After handing over the keys, Zhao Zejun found himself homeless and temporarily stayed at Junzi’s place. Junzi’s home was only two stops from Gaogang Village, making it convenient in both directions.

When she heard that Zhao Zejun was coming to stay, Junzi’s mother, Aunt Chen, sent Junzi off to live at his grandmother’s house, giving Zhao Zejun his room.

On the small bed covered with a blue-and-white floral sheet, neatly stacked were the compensation agreements, thick bundles of cash, and a contract for demolition debris recovery.

That day, Zhao Zejun and Director Feng spent hours talking in the teahouse, not wrapping up until half past nine at night before finally settling on the compensation plan.

First: The twelve shanty houses under Zhao Zejun’s name, newly expanded units couldn’t be counted as individual suites, but the area could be converted. All twelve units, regardless of original size, would be compensated as sixty square meters each.

Second: The price for purchasing the extra area between sixty and ninety square meters would be calculated at the lowest rate. Zhao Zejun didn’t have cash on hand, but his family’s apartment was also within the demolition scope and could be used to offset the compensation funds.

Twelve shanty units, each averaging less than thirty square meters, plus the fifty-six square meter apartment, were exchanged for twelve ninety-square-meter resettlement units.

Third: The two-story concrete building would be exchanged for a villa of roughly equivalent size—two hundred and twenty square meters.

Zhao Zejun wasn’t the only one in Gaogang Village with a two-story house; there were also various organizations and individuals with significant housing stock, such as warehouse space owned by Huayang Group.

Since the exact area and layout of these buildings were difficult to calculate, all were to be compensated with villas built at the edge of the resettlement neighborhood.

It was clear how profitable the real estate company Baoye, which handled the demolition and reconstruction, really was!

Building villas in the resettlement area sounded extravagant, but in reality, it wasn’t. The key was the land price.

If villas could be built in the resettlement zone, it meant the planning designated it as a villa district. Though it was still commercial residential land, purchasing it at villa district prices was much cheaper than ordinary apartment land.

Baoye acquired the land at the low villa price, used only a small portion for villas, and the majority for high-rises. Calculated out, it was almost as if the land were gifted to them.

Zhao Zejun wasn’t envious. If he only counted profit margins, his gains far surpassed those of real estate development.

Besides housing, there was also cash compensation.

For the twelve units and the two-story house, each unit came with three years’ housing subsidy, and Zhao Zejun demanded four hundred thousand.

Director Feng slammed the table and cursed!

What was the housing subsidy for? It was meant to help a family rent a place until the resettlement unit was ready.

Sure, Zhao Zejun owned a lot of units, but he still had only one family. Three people renting for three years—did he expect subsidies for ten households? Wasn’t that outrageous?

But Zhao Zejun knew that this “housing subsidy” was a major item in Baoye’s demolition budget. Whether it was divided by “household” or by “unit” depended entirely on the demolition office’s discretion, so it was worth fighting for.

There was also a bonus compensation.

Zhao Zejun suggested that anyone moving out within two weeks should receive a reward of five thousand. For his twelve units plus the two-story house, he expected at least eighty to a hundred thousand in rewards.

Furthermore, he had set an example by supporting the demolition, mobilizing a large number of elderly to move, and helping the demolition office solve major problems—surely that deserved a reward too?

He added these two items together and asked for another three hundred thousand, which wasn’t excessive in his view.

Director Feng was too lazy to calculate those petty details. In the end, all cash compensation added up, and Director Feng gave him a total of five hundred thousand—four hundred thousand deposited into his card, and one hundred thousand in cash.

Director Feng had good reasons for agreeing to these terms so readily.

Zhao Zejun had a clear grasp of the demolition office’s tricks and bottom lines, giving him confidence in negotiations—knowing both sides, he could always win.

Zhao Zejun was a major holdout in Gaogang Village. By moving the elderly out with him, he could facilitate the demolition, but he also had the power to obstruct it. Removing this troublemaker sent a warning to others: after him, few would dare to resist. Even those who tried, without elderly or outstanding group members as shields, the demolition office could act without hesitation and nothing would stand in their way.

Additionally, Old Li from the demolition office ran interference. While he didn’t help Zhao Zejun directly, he didn’t hinder him either, and did reveal some insider information.

There was another crucial, unspoken reason.

Ze Jian Company had secured the construction waste recovery project in the eastern part of Gaogang Village. For this project, forty percent of future profits would be donated by Zhao Zejun to the demolition office, supporting their work and supplementing compensation for affected households.

That was also why Zhao Zejun’s compensation demands were so aggressive. No matter how much Baoye funded, every item had its limit. The more Zhao Zejun took, the less the demolition office could allocate, so they had to make up the difference elsewhere.

These factors were all indispensable, like elements in a chemical reaction. Under Zhao Zejun’s careful management, they collided and interacted, culminating in the perfect result.

Without the protective shields that Zhao Zejun had risked everything to acquire, the demolition office wouldn’t have negotiated with him—they would have handled him at their whim.

Without foresight, Zhao Zejun wouldn’t have understood the demolition office’s limits, couldn’t have maximized his interests, and might have landed in real danger.

Without the forty percent sponsorship and the waste recovery project, those near-unreasonable demands for housing subsidies and relocation bonuses would have been greatly reduced. Forget five hundred thousand—he’d have been lucky to get ten.

From the day Zhao Zejun decided to buy property for profit, he had been quietly scheming, constantly revising his plans for the best outcome.

And the perennial storm had led him to a path where helping others and himself could be combined.

Adding it all up, as of the current stage in the demolition: twelve units, one villa, five hundred thousand, and a future large-scale waste recovery project.

If managed well, that project alone could bring considerable profit.

Such projects were tempting even for bosses at Song’s level.

After the mysterious stranger appeared, Zhao Zejun planned to sell part of the resettlement property rights. The quality of the resettlement units was abysmal, and he found them utterly repugnant.

...

“Why do I still feel so much heartache?” Jiang Xuan said with a solemn face.

Zhao Zejun handed Jiang Xuan the recovery contract, puzzled. “Are you sick? How can you not be satisfied with this?”

“It’s not about satisfaction! They did nothing and took almost half. Damn it!” Jiang Xuan sneered.

“That’s precisely because they did nothing, we get to keep the other half!” Zhao Zejun patted Jiang Xuan’s shoulder and laughed. “Come on, don’t be upset. This time we’re dealing with honest folks. If they’d asked for eighty percent, would you have refused? You’d still have to give it. Besides, the money isn’t going to individuals—it’s for compensation. That’s called taking from the people and returning to the people.”

In his previous life, Zhao Zejun really encountered those ruthless characters who could get things done but would take the lion’s share of the profits.

Jiang Xuan looked up and stared at Zhao Zejun for a moment. “I told you, you scholars have black hearts and sweet tongues!”

“Stop your nonsense, let’s eat! Call Junzi, let’s celebrate. My great Manager Jiang, you’ll be busy with demolition from now on.” Zhao Zejun laughed heartily.