After several old soldiers glanced up at her, they said, "No money, no treatment!"
Pan Yun wore a regretful expression. "Seeing that you are soldiers, wounded while defending the country, I could not bear to watch your old injuries flare up because of rheumatism, so I..."
"Go, go, go! A turtle chanting scriptures—won't listen, won't listen! No money, no treatment! Even if we drop dead on the spot, no treatment!"
"Heh, I refuse to believe this nonsense. Poor Daoist won't charge you a single coin. I am determined to cure you all. Are you going to let me treat you or not?!"
Several old soldiers lifted their eyelids and sized her up from head to toe, their faces full of suspicion. "Where did this fool come from? Is she really not charging money, or is she planning to trick us first and charge us later?"
One of them said, "Don't believe her. How could pies possibly fall from the sky? She has to be a swindler."
The old soldier who had just stood up sat back down again.
With a snap of Pan Yun's fingers, a stool slid out from beneath one old soldier's backside and shifted directly behind Pan Yun.
Pan Yun straightened her robe and sat down.
The old soldier whose stool had been snatched gave a "Hey!" and rolled up his sleeves, ready to fight, but someone grabbed him at once. "Don't be rash, don't be rash."
Pan Yun looked up and examined the stool-less old soldier from head to toe. After a moment, she said, "When you get up every morning, is your mouth dry and your waist sore, your knees weak and powerless? Do you sometimes feel dizzy around noon? And every winter and spring, do the wounds on your body itch and go numb