"Little Zhang, are you all right? Where does it hurt? If it's bad, hurry to the hospital."
Zhang Qiyan had never thought much of his student Zhang Chaoxian. Back then, he had recommended Zhang Chaoxian for state-sponsored study abroad, only for him to remain overseas and refuse to return, costing Zhang Qiyan a great deal of face.
But now, seeing beads of sweat forced out on Zhang Chaoxian's forehead by the pain, he could not help growing concerned.
Yet Zhang Chaoxian forced out a smile. "It's nothing, Teacher. It's an old problem of mine—stomach pain caused by irregular meals. I had planned to go to the hospital these past couple of days, but there was too much to deal with after coming back, so I put it off."
Zhang Qiyan frowned. "How can you put something like this off? If you drag out a stomach problem too long, it can become serious."
"Ah, it's really nothing, Teacher. I consulted a doctor. Treating stomach trouble is thirty percent medicine and seventy percent care. Mine has been stable these past few years. If I take care of it, it'll heal."
Zhang Chaoxian seemed utterly unconcerned by Zhang Qiyan's worry. He casually pulled out a pill bottle, swallowed a tablet, and cheerfully explained.
But everyone around him found his actions rather novel.
"Old Zhang, is that digestive medicine? We have Motilium here too. I've taken it, and it worked pretty well."
"Motilium treats nausea and vomiting. It doesn't stop pain. What Old Zhang took was probably ibuprofen."
"..."
"Ah, it's just a very ordinary specialty medicine in the United States. Doctors there are extremely rigorous when prescribing medicine. It isn't a matter of taking whatever we want—they have to be responsible for their patients' health."
Faced with everyone's speculation, Zhang Chaoxian generously showed