There are thousands of literary tyrants, and half of them have private doctors.
And I, unfortunately, became the exclusive personal doctor of a certain boss.
The first time I took up the job, the boss called me at 3 o'clock in the middle of the night, saying that Canary was injured and the situation was urgent.
I was so frightened that I ran to his villa area with the medicine box. When I ran back, I saw that it was good, the canary's wounds were healed.
The fifth time I took up the job, the boss called me and said that Canary sprained her foot. If the treatment was delayed, I would be unable to eat and walk around for the rest of my life.
After I rushed over, the two people danced sweetly and didn't take me seriously at all.
For the nth time, they called me for some inexplicable reason. I stood outside the door, looking at their affectionate scene, my hands hanging by my sides curled up, and I complained viciously in my heart.
"Damn it! What a bullshit heart disease! I think she is stronger than the cows raised in my field! If you call me here in the middle of the night, I will put you all on a plow and drive you to my field to pull grass!"
But I didn't expect that the boss's top-notch actor brother suddenly turned his head and looked at me in shock: "Am I going too?"
