As Feng Jun spoke, he grew angrier and angrier. "With tens or even hundreds of thousands of patients, all capable of paying that one million, which ones will you treat and which ones won't you treat? Where will your hospital be? Where will the wards be? Are you going to rely on that one shabby little building?"
Huahua was startled by his aggressive manner. "I... I don't need a hospital. I don't even have a medical license."
Then it came to its senses. "This is rehabilitation care, not a hospital. Maybe lots of people won't believe it."
Feng Jun shook his head, caught between laughter and tears. "Every cured patient is a living advertisement. Can you stop fooling yourself?"
After a pause, he added, "I want to help cure their cancer too. How about this? If conditions allow in the future, a treatment fee of one hundred thousand per person would be fine, as long as you can handle the workload... But for now, it can only be ten million per person."
Huahua pondered for a long time before suddenly saying, "How about... twenty million instead?"
Feng Jun rolled his eyes, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. "So you know how to be scared too?"
"I want to cultivate too," Huahua replied as though it were only natural. "I'm not as busy as you. Whenever I have time, I want to do things that make me happy. I also like seeing the joy of patients recovering, but if it affects me... am I being a little selfish?"
"How is that selfish?" Feng Jun smiled. "As cultivators, the fact that we don't simply stand by and ignore worldly affairs already makes us quite selfless."
As though to prove his point, he received a call from Yu Zhiyuan that very evening.