Before long, Mrs. Zhao's agonized cries could be heard.
Mr Chen emerged from the room, his brows tightly furrowed, muttering to himself, "Strange, I've never seen such bizarre symptoms. There are clearly no external or internal injuries, yet why is this child comatose? I've already tried acupuncture, regardless of the method, it's of no use. The crucial point is, I've checked his pulse at different times, just a short interval apart, and the child's pulse varies in strength. Moments ago, the pulse was strong, and now it has become weak and frail."
Mr. Zhao's eyes were red-ringed, he grasped Mr Chen's arm, as if clutching a lifeline, "Mr Chen, my son is only five years old, how could he suffer such a calamity? He has no injuries, is he really going to perish just like this? It shouldn't be like this, even if a great misfortune were to occur, it should be directed at me, why should it affect my son?"
