For a time, many villagers gathered outside the clinic, mostly there to watch the excitement.
Zhang Xiaofan asked the thin man to sit down, briefly checked his eyes and tongue, and then took his pulse.
"He's not sick,"
Zhang Xiaofan said indifferently.
"What did you say? He's not sick!"
"Hahaha, that's hilarious, and you call yourself a rural miracle doctor."
"Even non-doctors can see that this man is seriously ill."
"You say he's not sick; I think you know nothing about medicine!"
The fat man burst out laughing.
And the villagers outside the door also started discussing among themselves; the thin man looked very frail, pale, and listless.
If that's not sick, then what is?
"I think you better just admit defeat."
"With your skills, you're not even qualified to be a barefoot doctor."
"Shut down this clinic right away!"
The fat man said mockingly.
"You quack doctor, I am so ill, and yet you say I'm not, I don't think you know how to diagnose at all,"
