Southern guerrilla warfare: I led the Red Seventh Army Corps to amassed a million troops.

Zhou Zeyuan had experienced too much of his patients' mischievousness and simply treated them like old children who hadn't grown up.

People... are ultimately very few who can accept their own problems openly; avoiding seeking medical help is a fairly common situation!

"Oh, no doubt about it, it's not a problem now. I mean, with proper care, it can be prevented from happening in the first place."

He picked up the prescription and waved it at Boss Chen. "If you can strictly follow the doctor's instructions, you can even reach a higher level. Every morning when you wake up, you'll have a full erection."

Mr. Chen's face went from flushed to embarrassed, and he obediently sat back down in his chair.

He coughed twice. "I apologize if my words were a bit abrupt, Mr. Zeyuan. I'll do whatever you say."

There was a moment of silence in the room, then Mr. Huang was the first to burst out laughing.

Immediately afterwards, low chuckles rose from all corners.

After laughing for a while, Mr. Huang leaned closer and asked, "Old Chen, he told you to abstain from women. Can you do that?"

The room erupted in laughter again, and even Boss Chen, whose thick skin had been thickened by years of business battles, couldn't help but blush a little.

Zhou Zeyuan added, "The balance of Yin and Yang is the fundamental principle of human relations. Don't treat female beauty as a monstrous threat. Proper relaxation is more beneficial to both body and mind."

"If you force yourself to abstain from women in order to maintain your health, the resulting pent-up internal heat could cause even bigger problems."

He handed the written prescription to Boss Chen, who took it with both hands, carefully folded it, and put it in his pocket. He then turned to Mr. Huang and said, "Old Huang, you should take a look too. It's free anyway, so why not?"

Zhou Zeyuan waved his hand: "No need, Mr. Huang is in good health. His pulse is steady and strong, and his qi and blood are sufficient. There's nothing to adjust."

Mr. Huang proudly gestured with his chin towards Boss Chen: "I'm eating and sleeping well, I don't need to see a doctor. We should call Mr. Cai and Mr. Zhou over, those two are the ones who really need to be seen."

Mr. Cai, who was sitting on a wooden chair nearby, waved his hand slightly upon hearing this and said, "My old ailment is nothing to worry about."

Despite saying that, he still stood up, walked to the table, sat down, and placed his wrist on the pulse pillow.

Zhou Zeyuan pressed his hand on his pulse and remained silent for a long while. The laughter and chatter in the main room gradually subsided, and everyone looked at his slightly solemn face.

After a moment, he loosened his fingers: "Everything else is fine, it's just that my stomach is not good. My pulse is weak and my vital energy is insufficient, which is caused by malnutrition."

"Your diet is irregular, sometimes you eat a meal and sometimes you don't. Coupled with years of running around and working hard, your spleen and stomach are already weak. You need to take good care of yourself. You should eat regularly, eat small meals more often, and it would be best to have a bowl of hot porridge with every meal."

Mr. Cai nodded earnestly and stood up to express his gratitude.

Seeing this, several pro-democracy activists nearby also became interested and moved closer.

Just then, Yu Qiubai's voice came from the doorway: "Yucai, where are you hiding?"

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound and saw Yu Qiubai pulling Mr. Zhou's arm and dragging him into the house.

Mr. Zhou's one hand was being gripped, while the other held a half-smoked cigarette. His face wore an expression that was hard to decipher, whether it was helplessness or amusement.

"Oh, Qiu Bai, I don't need to. I am a doctor myself."

Yu Qiubai said as he pulled at her, "You're a doctor, but a failing one. You just came to take a look, what's there to be embarrassed about?"

The crowd quickly made way for them.

Mr. Cai also stood up and offered the chair he had just been sitting in. "Yucai, this Mr. Zeyuan is a very skilled doctor. You cough often, so it would be good for him to take a look."

Mr. Zhou reluctantly sat down, placed his wrist on the pulse pillow, and muttered, "You people are just making a fuss over nothing..."

Zhou Zeyuan sat back down at the table and placed three fingers on Mr. Zhou's pulse.

The room quickly quieted down. The light from the kerosene lamp flickered on the windowsill, illuminating Mr. Zhou's thin face and Yu Qiubai's tense lips standing behind him.

In just a moment, Zhou Zeyuan's brows furrowed.

It's said that when a traditional Chinese medicine practitioner frowns, someone will suffer bad luck.

The people in the room couldn't help but become serious.

Yu Qiubai quickly took half a step forward, his voice very low, "Zeyuan, how are you? Is it serious?"

Zhou Zeyuan's brows remained furrowed, and his fingers pressed on Mr. Zhou's wrist for about ten seconds before slowly releasing them.

He raised his head and glanced back and forth between Mr. Zhou and Yu Qiubai's faces: "The specific symptoms cannot be completely determined yet, but they are similar to your pulse back then."

Yu Qiubai's expression changed instantly.

Mr. Zhou's hand, which was holding a cigarette, froze in mid-air, and the ash fell onto his clothes without him noticing.

The two looked at each other, a glint in their eyes that only they could understand.

tuberculosis!

These days, those three words are like an invitation from a living Yama (the King of Hell).

Seeing the sudden change in their expressions, Zhou Zeyuan smiled. His smile was like a ray of sunshine in winter—not intense, but warming to the heart.

"The problem is serious and must be treated with care. But it's alright, thankfully you came to me in time."

He reached for a pen on the table, dipped it in ink, and slowly wrote the beginning of a prescription on the paper, saying without looking up:

"If I can suppress your condition, I won't have to worry about having another patient. The only problem is that this process will be very long. During this time, you need to maintain a good lifestyle and avoid things like smoking and alcohol as much as possible."

"I'm not afraid of a long period of time, but to be honest, I can't completely abstain from smoking and drinking."

Zhou Zeyuan was writing a prescription with his head down. Hearing this, he didn't even lift his eyelids: "There's nothing you can't do in this world. It's just that no one was watching you before."

Smoking addiction is indeed hard to quit, but compared to another kind of smoking addiction, it's nothing.

Among their ranks were some Kuomintang prisoners of war who had previously been addicted to opium, but they were still helped to quit.

Mr. Perrin himself is qualified to comment on this.

For writers like them, laziness flares up intermittently when they start writing.

Once I start watching videos, I can't stop, and occasionally I can't resist playing a game.

But as soon as he returns to his hometown and is in front of his parents, he automatically transforms into a Mazda driver.

He stopped playing games and drinking milk tea, and when he started writing, he was completely absorbed in it, forgetting to eat or sleep.

Although he couldn't find Mr. Zhou's elders, he figured that having a group of admirers watching him every day would make it hard for Mr. Zhou to be without any idol baggage.

So even a great writer couldn't quit smoking, that's all...

Sometimes, you don't even need to say it out loud; the disappointed look in their eyes after their idol image is shattered can drive people crazy.

Even the leaders at headquarters couldn't withstand this move, and Yu Qiubai praised it after using it.

Presumably, Mr. Zhou will not give it a bad review.