If you don't want treatment, get out! This doctor has a terrible temper.

The roller shutter door of Renxin Pharmacy is now as heavy as if it were filled with lead.

Every day, Mr. Liu has to take two deep breaths before opening the door.

The scene outside made it look like they were handing out free eggs inside.

People carrying cameras, holding selfie sticks, and those who simply had nothing better to do than come to see the monkeys blocked the sidewalk completely.

"What a mess!" Boss Liu said, wiping a rag in one hand and using an abacus in the other, the beads clicking away. "Xiao Wang, yesterday we sold over three thousand yuan worth of herbal tea, but only two hundred for cold medicine. Shouldn't we change our signboard? How about 'Benevolent Herbal Tea Shop'?"

Wang Minyu nestled in the "Truth Chair," holding a stainless steel teacup in his hands, steam rising from it.

This chair cost him a thousand reputation points. It looked worn out, but sitting on it made his mind as clear as a computer that had just been re-flashed.

"You should be happy if you can make some money." Wang Minyu blew away the tea dust floating on the water. "Besides, these people are always on their phones trying to get attention, they're so hot-tempered they could smoke. Drinking some herbal tea is the right medicine for them, we're doing this to do good deeds."

Boss Liu smacked his lips twice, wanting to refute but unable to find the words. This kid always managed to turn fallacies into truths, and the best part was, they sounded quite plausible.

"Hey! It's starting! It's starting! The broadcast over at the park has begun!" A blond-haired guy shouted from the entrance.

The crowd erupted in excitement, dozens of people pulling out their phones in unison. Even Boss Liu couldn't resist and leaned in to look.

On the screen, the central square of People's Park is bathed in the soft light of dawn.

A group of middle-aged women, dressed in bright red and green tracksuits, stood in neat rows. At the end of the line, a pink figure stood out conspicuously.

Lin Wan'er was bare-faced, her hair casually tied in a ponytail. Instead of the greasy pork cheek meat, she held a green cucumber with flowers and thorns on top.

"Good morning, everyone!" She waved at the camera, her smile devoid of any artificial sweeteners, radiating a genuine, carbohydrate-like warmth. "Today is the fifteenth day of the 'face-patting therapy.' Dr. Wang said the blood-activating phase is over, and now it's time to clear heat and remove dampness. Patting my face with cucumber hydrates and reduces internal heat, and it can even be eaten for breakfast—two birds with one stone!"

After saying that, she grabbed a cucumber and started slapping it all over her priceless face.

The live chat exploded instantly.

[Hahaha! Pig face meat is out of a job, cucumber takes its place!]

That crisp sound made my face hurt.

[Wan'er's skin looks amazing! It's so much better than that layer of makeup she used to have!]

This isn't treatment; it's a massive act of atavism!

As the music started, the "Most Dazzling Ethnic Trend" made the phone's speaker crackle.

While slapping her face with a cucumber, Lin Wan'er twisted and turned wildly out of sync with the rhythm, her movements clumsy like a penguin that had just learned to walk, yet exuding a carefree joy.

During the interlude, she turned to the lead dancer next to her and shouted, "Aunt Zhang! Your new outfit is so dazzling! Get me one too!"

"That's right! It's from the Dongmen morning market, eighty-eight for two pieces!" Aunt Zhang grinned so hard her dentures almost flew off. "I'll take you to bargain tomorrow!"

Boss Liu clicked his tongue in disbelief. Was this really the same big star who needed eight bodyguards and insisted on specific brands of water? This was clearly the neighbor's silly daughter.

Wang Minyu looked at the screen, a barely perceptible hint of approval flashing in his eyes.

What does it mean to be healed? It's not that your face looks better, it's that your heart is at ease.

When Lin Wan'er can still laugh while slapping her face with a cucumber in public, her so-called "idol image" is completely cured.

"Dr. Wang! Where is Dr. Wang!"

A roar shattered the peace in the shop.

The crowd was violently pushed apart, and a middle-aged man wearing an Armani suit with the buttons fastened incorrectly rushed in.

His hair was so messy it looked like he'd just been struck by lightning, his eye bags were huge enough to hold two pounds of rice, and his gold-rimmed glasses had tape wrapped around the temples.

Several assistants followed behind but couldn't stop him.

The man lunged at the counter, grabbing Wang Minyu's arm with a grip so tight it felt like he was going to crush bones: "Help! Help me!"

Wang Minyu frowned, flicked his wrist, and skillfully pushed the other person away: "Let go. Register and get in line."

"What the hell is this queue?!" The man slammed a stack of scripts, crumpled like dried pickled vegetables, onto the counter. "I'm Zhang Yimou! A 500 million yuan project is starting filming in three days, and my brain is completely blank! I can't squeeze out a single word!"

Renowned director Zhang Yimou.

At this moment, however, he resembled a third-rate writer driven mad by deadlines.

Wang Minyu glanced at him, then the system panel was right in front of him.

Patient: Zhang Yimou, 49 years old.

Symptoms: Creative anxiety disorder, cerebral cortex dysfunction.

Cause: Late-stage perfectionism, long-term high pressure leading to neurotransmitter imbalance, commonly known as "brain malfunction."

"This isn't an illness," Wang Minyu said calmly.

"How can it not be an illness!" Zhang Yimou was so anxious that he spun around on the spot, his leather shoes screeching on the floor. "I saw the best psychiatrist in the whole country, and I took two pounds of antidepressants, but it's useless! Now I feel like throwing up whenever I see a camera, and I want to tear up a script whenever I see it! Dr. Wang, I've seen your news reports. You can make a mute person speak and a cripple dance. You must have a way! Money is not a problem. I'll give you as much as you want!"

"If I say it's not an illness, then it's not an illness."

Wang Minyu got up and walked to the bottom shelf. After rummaging through a pile of dusty junk for a while, he pulled out a yellowed cardboard box.

Blow off the dust and open it.

A red and white Little Tyrant learning machine, plus a yellow cassette tape.

The stickers on the cartridge were worn out, and the three words "Contra" were faintly visible.

"What is this?" Zhang Yimou was stunned, his face full of absurdity.

"Your medicine."

Wang Minyu shoved the learning machine into Zhang Yimou's arms. "Your brain isn't broken, it's overloaded. Camera shots, box office numbers, investors, film critics... all these messy things are fighting in your head, overloading your CPU. What you need to do isn't find inspiration, it's clear out the memory."

"Clear memory? With this piece of junk?" Zhang Yimou held up the plastic-looking handle, feeling his intelligence had been insulted.

"Yes." Wang Minyu pointed to the cartridge. "Go back and plug it into the TV. This game has eight levels, and I want you to complete it in one life. If you die once, you have to start over. No cheat codes, and no cheating."

"Are you kidding me?" Zhang Yimou laughed angrily, veins bulging on his neck. "I'd rather go to sleep than waste this time!"

"Are you able to sleep?"

Wang Minyu's words were like a needle pricking a balloon.

Zhang Yimou froze.

"You're lying in bed right now, are you still going through storyboards in your head? Still calculating schedules? Still thinking about how to win awards?" Wang Minyu leaned back in his chair, his eyes sharp. "Your brain can no longer 'shut down.' Playing video games is like a forced restart. When you're completely focused on dodging bullets and jumping between platforms, and all you have left in your mind is the thought of 'survival,' all those messy anxieties are naturally squeezed out. That's called 'formatting therapy.'"

Zhang Yimou looked at Wang Minyu, then looked down at the little tyrant in his arms.

This theory sounds utterly absurd, but upon closer inspection... it somehow makes a damn reasonable sense?

How many years has it been since he experienced that kind of pure, unadulterated focus that requires no thought?

"What if... I can't pass the level?" Zhang Yimou asked through gritted teeth.

"That means you haven't cleared the garbage out of your head yet. Keep hitting me, hit me until I vomit." Wang Minyu picked up his teacup again. "Pay the consultation fee as you see fit, come back to me after you clear this."

Zhang Yimou stood there, his expression shifting unpredictably.

The assistant behind him cautiously approached: "Director Zhang, this guy is a charlatan. Let's go, don't waste time..."

"Shut up!"

Zhang Yimou suddenly shouted, startling his assistant.

He pulled a black card from his pocket and slammed it on the counter.

"This card has no PIN and no spending limit." Zhang Yimou stared intently at Wang Minyu. "If I'm still not fully conscious in three days, this money is your funeral money. If I am... we'll talk!"

After saying that, the internationally renowned director, carrying that chipped Little Tyrant learning machine like a nuclear launcher, strode away with an air of arrogance.

Boss Liu stared at the black card, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

He reached out his hand tremblingly, wanting to touch it but not daring to.

"Xiao Wang... how much money can this thing generate?"

"I could probably buy half of this street." Wang Minyu casually put the card into the drawer.

Mr. Liu's legs went weak, and he slid directly under the counter.

"So...so playing video games can really cure diseases?" Boss Liu leaned against the edge of the counter, peeking out half of his head.

"cannot."

"what?"

"But it can turn him back into a little kid who just wants to win one game." Wang Minyu took a sip of tea, looking at the bustling crowd outside the window. "Most adult ailments are caused by overthinking. Turning back into a child will cure all ailments."

Boss Liu swallowed hard.

He felt that the pharmacy was increasingly resembling a research center for abnormal humans.

And Wang Minyu is the biggest madman.