Qingfeng Medical Hall.
Mo Zhiyun raised his head to look at the sign at the entrance. A hint of hesitation and apprehension flashed through his eyes.
Could Chinese medicine really cure one's leg?
"Shall we go in?" asked Cang Ming, who stood behind her.
Mo Zhiyun came back to his senses and nodded.
Cangming pushed her in. The clinic was very large, and there were no advertisements on the wall. There were only two pots of rich bamboo at the foot of the wall.
As she walked in, she saw a man in a white coat and a white mask standing in the treatment room, only revealing a pair of bright and clear eyes.
His hands were long, white, and thin, and his fingertips were firmly, accurately, and ruthlessly applying acupuncture on the acupuncture points. The patient lying on the bed did not have any reaction, and his expression was very relaxed.
