Jiang Xinghai simply smiled and looked at the first patient before him. "Sir, there's no need for you to say a word. Observing your dull complexion, lifeless eyes, and gaunt figure, I'd say you're suffering from a gastrointestinal illness. Am I correct?"
"You've got sharp eyes, young man. That's right, I have enteritis. It's a chronic condition that just won't heal." A look of pleasant surprise appeared in the sixty-something-year-old man's eyes.
'He truly hadn't expected Jiang Xinghai to be able to name his ailment without him uttering a single word.'
Even Granny Nong looked at Jiang Xinghai with a newfound sense of admiration.
However, this didn't mean she was ready to acknowledge Jiang Xinghai's medical skills.
"Sir, here is your prescription."
Jiang Xinghai filled a sheet of paper with flamboyant, cursive script.
Ingredients: a soup spoon, pure sesame oil, ginger, white sugar.
