After sobering up, I was lying in a mud house, and my 400-degree myopia suddenly returned.
Yellowing herbs were hung on the wall, and half a cup of cool concoction was placed on the table.
Someone outside the door banged on the door panel and shouted, "Doctor, please help my dad."
I looked down at my unsurgery hands, which were as rough as tree bark.
The system played the words: The smell of smallpox epidemic has been detected, and you can sign in once.
The crying outside the door became more and more urgent, and a few wisps of white air were emerging from the black residue at the bottom of the bowl.
The original owner of this body may have treated someone who shouldn't have been treated.
