Lin Heihu's journey of becoming a livestreamer had encountered a few minor obstacles at the start, but after that, it had been Smooth Sailing.
At the end of the day, there were simply too many patients at the Nursing Center. The latest batch had already reached five hundred... and four people.
In other words, excluding those four high-priced patients, the Nursing Center admitted one batch of patients each month, charging five million per person, for a monthly income of 2.5 billion!
The Nursing Center was still expanding. Huahua's ultimate goal was to expand to two thousand people and reduce the care fee to two million—not because it lacked land, nor because it did not want to add more beds, but because it truly could not keep up. Even with Little Wu helping, it was already at its limit.
As for lowering the fee to one million, it wanted to do that too, but no one understood how to raise and control gu... so what was there to say?
That was getting off track. Of the current five hundred patients, a little over four hundred were willing to livestream—not because they wanted to show their faces, but because they genuinely wanted to communicate more with family and friends. It was a basic need for patients.
But Lin Heihu's livestream only lasted three hours. Anyone who had done livestreaming knew that three hours a day was no small amount.
At the low end, if each patient livestreamed for ten minutes, three hours would only cover eighteen patients.
If four hundred people wanted a turn, even twenty days would not be enough—and by then, most of them would already have been discharged.
At that point, those who had talked about portrait rights and privacy rights basically fell silent. Even if they did not