Qin Han followed the elderly man into the inner chamber of the medical hall and gestured for the elder to remove his shirt. Looking at some darkened skin on the elder's chest, he frowned and asked, "How long have you had this condition?"
"About five years!" Zhang Henian was calm, even displaying a hint of pride in his demeanor.
"Do you think that after five years, you have contained the toxin well, or do you think that testing medicines on yourself is a matter to be proud of?" Qin Han noticed the expression on Zhang Henian's face and asked sternly.
In Qin Han's view, neither reason was worth pride, and in fact, it seemed indicative of a lack of skill.
Zhang Henian caught the ironic tone in Qin Han's words, sighed, and said, "Young man, you're right, there's nothing to be proud of." After all, he was asking for help now, and even though the words were ironic, he knew he had to adjust his attitude.
