Everyone knew Jiang Hai would never sell his land!
Unlike the older generation back home, Jiang Hai wasn't sentimentally attached to land. He hadn't bought these plots for farming or leisure. To him, they were business—pure profit. His estates alone generated two billion dollars a year from cattle sales. If he added the grass sales from his other properties, that meant another two billion. Four billion dollars annually, all told. And now someone had come forward saying they wanted to buy his land? Was he insane? Why on earth would Jiang Hai sell?
"Sorry, I'm not selling," Jiang Hai said firmly, shaking his head. This wasn't China, where land belonged to the state and a government expropriation order would leave you powerless.
This was America. He had bought the land outright, and there was no way he was letting it go.
Four billion dollars a year—that was forty billion in ten years. Would he really throw that away?
"Don't be so quick to refuse. It's just a piece of land, it doesn't carry special meaning. We'll give you a price that will satisfy you. At least look first," Deputy Director Li said with a smile, ignoring Jiang Hai's blunt rejection. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a document.
It was a formal proposal: they wanted to acquire Jiang Hai's estate for one billion U.S. dollars.
Jiang Hai couldn't help but laugh. "Are you joking? Did you even do your research? One billion for my land? That's robbery."
"Xiao Jiang, how can you put it that way? One billion is the figure our experts calculated, and it's already very generous. You bought this land for two hundred and eighty million, and that included the seafield. We're not even asking for the seafield, just the land. Counting everything you've acquired, it's worth maybe three hundred million at most. One billion is already a sky-high offer." Deputy Director Li smiled, trying to smooth things over.
"I think you're making one mistake," Jiang Hai replied evenly. "My land can't be measured by raw land value. Since you're here, you must already know my cattle alone bring in two billion dollars annually. Add in grass sales, and the figure reaches four to five billion in total revenue. After taxes, that's still three billion a year. And you think ten billion is enough to buy my estate? Honestly, you're dreaming."
The room fell silent. Several people gasped.
Many of those present had never been to Winthrop before. In fact, most of them were junior staff from the bureau, not high-ranking officials. They had heard Jiang Hai was wealthy, but hearing the actual figures left them stunned. Five billion dollars in yearly revenue? That was unheard of.
Some had long considered Winthrop a gold mine—close to Boston and New York, with great attractions, ideal for tourism and vacationing. Jiang Hai's estate was the most promising location: large, rich in water resources, and already well-developed. With just a little investment, it could be turned into a world-class resort.
That was why they had gone through Mayor Wallis to approach him. Wallis, though well aware that Jiang Hai would never sell, couldn't openly reject the bureau. He had reluctantly acted as a middleman. But the moment he heard their proposed price—one billion—he knew the deal was hopeless.
Now, seeing Jiang Hai calmly dismiss their offer, the men exchanged uneasy glances. They thought he must be exaggerating, inflating the numbers to drive up the price. Could he really be making billions every year? If what he said was true, Jiang Hai would become one of the richest men in the world within a few years. That thought alone left them reeling.
Deputy Director Li hesitated, then tried again. "What if we added another two hundred million? 1.2 billion. Think about it. If your business is truly as profitable as you say, then with 1.2 billion you could buy an even larger estate and increase your income further, right?"
Jiang Hai shook his head. "You don't believe me, do you? Fine. Forget the four or five billion. Let's just talk about last year—I sold cattle worth 1.5 billion. That's after taxes. Go check the records, it's public. This year, I'm not only selling cattle, but also fish and grass. Even conservatively, I'll net two billion. After taxes, that's 1.2 billion in profit. In other words, your so-called 1.2 billion would only cover a single year's earnings. Do you really think I'd sell my foundation for one year's profit?"
Their faces darkened. What they thought would be an easy acquisition was turning into humiliation. Jiang Hai's position was unshakable. Compared to his revenues, their billion-dollar offer was laughable.
They looked at each other again, realizing the truth: if Jiang Hai truly earned over a billion after taxes every year, they'd have to offer at least ten times that for the estate. Ten billion? Impossible. None of them had the authority—or the audacity—to propose such a figure. And even if they did, how long would it take to earn that money back from a resort?
Director Lu and Deputy Director Li exchanged a silent glance and gave up.
"We didn't expect your profits to be so high, Xiao Jiang. It seems we've been too presumptuous. But tell me, have you ever thought about real estate?" Deputy Director Li finally said, retracting the acquisition offer. A proposal worth tens of billions was beyond their power. But a partnership—that might still be possible.
"Real estate?" Jiang Hai raised his eyebrows. The first person who came to mind was China's current richest man, who had made his fortune through property speculation. Back when Jiang Hai was still a farmer, he had despised such people. But now, with wealth of his own, his disdain had softened.
Even so, he shook his head. "That's not realistic. You have to remember—this is America. Even if we built houses here, who would buy them?"
To him, the idea seemed absurd. He certainly wouldn't buy property in the United States if he were an ordinary Chinese citizen.
Of course, plenty of wealthy Chinese did. Buying a house in America was easy—far easier than in China, where you needed household registration and endless certificates. Here, it was just a matter of signing a contract and paying the money. Simple, so long as you had the funds.
"Our target buyers are Chinese tourists," Deputy Director Li explained patiently. "As you know, Chinese people aren't short of money these days. Homes here are cheaper than in many Chinese cities. Our original plan was to buy your estate, build a resort along the beach and grassland, and then add residential areas—some high-rises, some villas. Since we can't buy your land, we're looking at Winthrop more broadly. From a national perspective, it doesn't make sense for us to invest directly. But you can. If you're interested, we could cooperate."
He spoke with genuine sincerity.
If they developed residential complexes in Winthrop and sold them for $1,000 per square meter—about 6,000 RMB—they'd already profit. And in reality, they could easily sell for more. 11,000 RMB per square meter matched average prices in China's first-tier cities, and in prime districts of Beijing or Shanghai, property could fetch 20,000 to 30,000 RMB or more. Within Beijing's second ring, nothing sold for less than 100,000 RMB per square meter.
Here in Winthrop, $2,000 per square meter—around 12,000 RMB—was entirely reasonable. The area was scenic, peaceful, perfect for leisure, and close enough to Boston for families to stay while their children studied. The appeal was undeniable.
(To be continued.)