"You... me...!"
Wan Tianming, who had planned on using the commotion to slip away with the crowd, froze. His face went rigid, and he stood rooted to the spot, completely at a loss.
"You haven't cured him yet, so it doesn't count!" With his lip twitching, Wan Tianming could only glare defiantly at Qin Lin. "We'll talk after you've actually cured him!"
"Doctor Wan." Seeing Wan Tianming trying to weasel out of the bet, Qin Lin smirked and turned to the old man. "You're the renowned National Medical Saint. Surely you wouldn't indulge your grandson and let him be a sore loser, would you?"
"You rebellious grandson, kneel!"
BANG!
In front of so many luminaries of traditional Chinese medicine, the reputation-conscious Doctor Wan, though inwardly hating Qin Lin with a passion, had no choice but to force Wan Tianming to his knees.
Wan Tianming was still seething with indignation. "Grandpa, he hasn't cured him. It doesn't count."