Zhao Xiaoliang

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As Zhao Liang deceived himself while nervously asking, "Doctor, how is my condition?"

Why did I see Li Bai every time I was hypnotized? Was I beyond saving?

To be honest, thinking that way showed considerable foresight.

He had already come in for treatment several times and paid several thousand yuan in medical fees, only to receive bottle after bottle of Corn Starch Pills.

These placebos were usually kept as basic stock and rarely had any use. They always expired in the pharmacy. Now, all of them had effectively been replaced with fresh stock, and there even seemed to be signs that more would soon be added.

As for their effects, aside from raising his blood sugar a tiny bit, they had no other effect whatsoever.

It could not exactly be called a scam. Placebos were legally deceptive by nature, and that argument would hold up in court.

"Mental illness, you know, is difficult to cure completely. It can only be controlled as much as possible. If you don't have an episode, you're healthy, so don't put too much psychological pressure on yourself."

Li Bai's answer was the very definition of sitting on the fence.

It was also the plain truth. The brain was the most mysterious organ in the human body, bar none.

Even now, no one could fully explain the pathology of mental illness. Its causes were extraordinarily complex, involving both congenital and acquired factors. Current treatments were limited to assisting with therapy and diagnosis.

As for targeted miracle drugs, to put it simply, to a great extent, one still had to rely on fate and personal luck.

Mental illness was like cancer. Although it was not as likely to cause death, the odds of recovery were about the same. Some cases were easier to treat, while