Zhao Changgui led Xu Xiangbei into his clinic's main hall, where they were greeted by a painting of the Shennong Hundred Herbs Map. The artwork was elegantly sharp, penetrating.
Beside it hung the Herbal Soup Song, with its characters majestically written, exuding a sense of grandeur: "Shennong's hundreds of herbs cure the world, skillful hands with a benevolent heart aid mankind."
Along the walls were rows of brightly colored mahogany medicine cabinets, clearly made of high-quality cypress, emitting a faint scent of traditional Chinese medicine.
Xu Xiangbei couldn't help but nod silently, thinking the place was quite well decorated, but it was a shame that the lack of medical ethics wasted such a good clinic.
Zhao Changgui sat lightly on a purple sandalwood armchair, crossing his legs with a proud face: "Young man, how do you want to compete?"
