I am Nan Nan, and I have been guarding the medicine cabinet for ten years.
Yesterday I was still worried about the backlog of goods in the warehouse. When I woke up, I became a little medicine boy who was about to be kicked out of the "Jishitang" of the Great Zhou Dynasty.
The original owner made a big mistake and was about to get involved in a life-threatening lawsuit. The shopkeeper jumped in fear, and the apprentice trembled in fear. But I just glanced at the dark medicine cabinet, and I didn't feel any emotion at all - this scene was not as thrilling as the time I sent away the rogue who was trying to extort money last month.
Ten years of hard work have taught me: No matter which dynasty or generation, medicine is a thing that is wrong even by a thousand miles.
I picked up the old gun and had no time to talk nonsense with them. While cleaning up the moldy medicinal materials, I was thinking in my mind: The inventory in this store must be re-inventoryed, the doctor's recipe must be kept, and the common people who only recognize the name but not the product must be explained and reasoned with.
Prince Xiao has epigastric discomfort? Don't take all those vain tonics, because they are caused by food accumulation, so you need to use some elimination methods, coupled with the method of "eating less and eating more meals" that I have figured out.
Is the imperial concubine unable to sleep at night? After preparing the prescription to soothe the mind and nourish the mind, I also told her the rules of conditioning.
During the Zhou Dynasty, I, Nan Nan, relied not on any ancestral magic recipe, but on my vision and skill in the past ten years to turn this shop that was about to close into a "conscience shop" that everyone on this street gave thumbs up to.
