"You're screwing with my dad!"
The teacup hit the floor and shattered.
Zheng Tianxiang's son, Zheng Ruhao, angrily stood up.
Hatred, so intense it seemed blood would drip from his eyes, permeated the air.
"Ruhao, show some respect!"
Zheng Tianxiang hurriedly tried to stop him.
After all, Lin Fan had already demonstrated his expertise by being able to diagnose the issue.
"Dad, this guy is obviously playing us. First, he spoke all mysteriously, and now he says he can't cure it. He's just making fun of us, and it's just too much."
Zheng Ruhao clenched his fists, his face full of outrage.
"Ruhao, listen to your dad and sit down."
Zheng Tianxiang's wife, Zhuang Juan, also quickly interjected.
