If flowers bloom, youth will naturally follow.

The clinic was dark and damp, but it had a full range of departments, with signs written in black ink on the wooden boards: Internal Medicine, Surgery, and Orthopedics. However, all the doors were tightly closed, and the entire clinic was eerily silent.

Sure enough, there was only one room without any department name written on it; it simply had the three big characters "Office" written on it.

The five-yuan registration fee annoyed Xiao Pang. He knocked on the door twice, and before anyone could speak inside, he pushed the door open and threw the five-yuan "registration slip" onto the desk: "Hello, I'm here to see a doctor."

"Ahem, you child, why didn't you knock before coming in?" A middle-aged man in a white coat hurriedly put the book in his hand aside, sat up straight, and said in a serious tone.

Although Xiaopang is only in the first year of junior high school, thanks to his grandfather, he already knows Jin Yong's novels by heart. He can tell just by looking at the outline of a few words on the cover that it is "Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils".

"The woman at the door told me to come directly to you," the chubby boy said casually, not even wanting to call her "Auntie" anymore.

"Well, okay, little one, how did you get here by yourself? Where do you feel unwell?" the middle-aged man asked.

Ugh... Little Fatty's momentum vanished instantly, and he said with great shame, "Doctor, I just... urinated blood."

"Blood in your urine? What's going on?"

"My stomach is bloated, and when I go to the toilet, what comes out isn't urine, it's blood," the chubby boy stammered.

"Come here, let me take a look," the doctor called to Little Fatty.

Little Fatty walked over, pulled over a stool, sat down, and offered his arm. He thought they were going to take his pulse; that was the standard procedure for doctors in the village. He didn't know what they could diagnose, but they would always pinch his arm a couple of times.

"Take off your pants so I can see," the doctor said.

"Huh? Take off your pants?" Little Fatty was shocked.

"Yes, let me check if there are any external injuries or anything like that," the doctor said.

"Ah, no, no, no, no...no, no external injuries," Little Fatty waved his hands repeatedly, his younger brother would not be shown to anyone.

When he was a child, he discovered a problem when he competed with others to see who could pee the farthest: he was too fat, his younger brother was too small, his shoes would get wet when he peed, and he wasn't as good-looking as the others.

"Oh, I see." Without external injuries, the doctor wouldn't bother to examine it; he wouldn't be able to see anything anyway.

He lifted up the chubby boy's clothes and poked several places hard with his fingers (the chubby boy's nail guards were so thick that he couldn't touch his internal organs without using force...). He asked the chubby boy a few questions, and the chubby boy said that he felt no discomfort anywhere.

As Little Fatty watched his fingers pierce his stomach, he inexplicably felt a desire, like in a martial arts novel, to flick him away with a burst of energy.

The doctor was stumped; this... was beyond his capabilities.

But it's okay. The doctor has been practicing medicine for many years and has a set routine. When in doubt, he recommends going to a big hospital: "You need to have an X-ray and blood tests. Our facilities here are limited. You should go to the county hospital."

There's a reason why his clinic is so deserted. He's the town mayor's brother-in-law, a veterinarian by trade. He cheaply contracted the clinic but couldn't bear to spend money hiring people, so he found a shady training course, took a few days to get a license, and started a husband-and-wife business.

He knows how to prescribe fever reducers for colds and fevers, but he gets confused when it comes to more advanced medicine. Mules and horses can be given medicine indiscriminately, but people can't, so we can only go to the county hospital for help.

Over time, his place turned into a pharmacy. For slightly more complicated illnesses, people would go directly to the county hospital – why bother spending an extra five yuan?

"Oh, okay, you earned those five dollars so easily," Little Fatty said again, still annoyed.

Spending five yuan to get a diagnosis from the county hospital would be awkward for anyone.

"Hehe," the doctor, a scholar, didn't have his wife's haughty air. He felt a little guilty towards the chubby, sucker in front of him: "It's really because the conditions don't allow it."