"No need to look at it, it's an old issue," Rachel said, pulling her hand back. "Jeffrey already took me to see a specialist before."
The doctor back then had made it painfully clear that her fingers had missed the best window for treatment.
The medications she had taken afterward were just to dull the chronic bone pain that flared up whenever the weather turned cold and damp.
"Since we're already here, just let Master Yeung take a look," Garrett Vincent insisted, not taking no for an answer.
He gently but firmly took her arm and guided her into the small clinic. "He doesn't see patients easily, you know."
Inside, Rachel noticed the clinic was surprisingly cold and unwelcoming.
An elderly man in a slightly rumpled white coat, with a scruffy white beard, was sitting in a worn chair, completely focused on a 32-inch television mounted on the wall.
On the screen, a popular, overly dramatic romance was playing.
