Pei Xingyuan stood with ease, arms crossed, leisurely gazing at the people before him. Watching their loud complaints, his eyes still curved into a smile, yet he remained silent.
Shang Ruyi instinctively clenched her fist, nervously watching the scene.
Meanwhile, the patients in Changle Square, stirred by that middle-aged man, were not only discontent with the expensive medicine but also seemed eager to vent their frustrations of falling ill these days, seeking treatment to no avail, and teetering on life's edge. They continuously complained and cursed, causing the situation to spiral into chaos, like a pot boiling over.
But, no matter how intense emotions are, there is always a time when they subside.
What's more, no matter how they cursed, the person opposite them remained silent, leaving them feeling as if their punches were landing on cotton—no, swinging at empty air, which was not only useless but also tiring.
Gradually, the crowd quieted down.
