I opened a small clinic in Jiefangbei, Chongqing, specializing in treating "weird diseases" that modern hospitals cannot cure.
That night when it rained heavily, the Rolls-Royce suddenly stopped in front of my door. A woman in high heels rushed in with her unconscious child in her arms: "Save him!"
Three days later, the child was discharged from the hospital with a bounce, but she received a letter from her lawyer: "Illegal practice of medicine, waiting to go to jail."
I smiled and folded the ancestral prescription into a paper airplane: "How about the money for the medicinal materials? Three and a half yuan."
Later, she passed out drunk in my clinic, muttering that she had a stomachache.
I handed over the hangover tea: "This time the consultation fee is doubled, seven yuan."
She suddenly grabbed my wrist: "That child... Is actually..."
