Yang Hu was a little hesitant as he stood in front of the door to Lower Groove Clinic.
The front door of the clinic was mottled and old, giving off a sense that it had been around for some time. It went very well with the style of the entire alley and was also similar to the style style of the Yang Family's knife-cut noodles restaurant. However, even though he rarely went to his father's knife-cut noodles shop when he was younger, Yang Hu knew how fast news traveled in neighborhoods like this.
Should he apologize in a well-behaved manner, or should he hide like a coward?
Yang Hu may have been pushing the wheelchair, but he was also going around in circles, showing how indecisive he was. Yang Zhongshu had no choice but to remind him, "Son, I feel a little dizzy."
Yang Hu immediately stopped and scratched his head in embarrassment. His hairline had receded a little. It felt smooth and pleasant to the touch, but unsightly to the eyes.
