When Doctor Zhao saw that he wanted to kneel down, he felt a little happy.
He who even His Majesty could not do anything to was now kneeling before him, so he stood high above him, looking at the little fat boy with a look that implied urging.
Silently urging you to kneel down.
People have pride. Yan Jiyuan's child, the chubby little boy held in his palm and in his mouth, has no less pride than his father.
However, just as the emperor would kneel for him, the little fat boy would do the same.
When he knelt down resolutely, someone blocked his bent knees.
Then came a familiar outburst: "You old dog, you dare accept the title of Imperial Physician Zhao. You crazy thief, you filthy rat, you took a kick from your grandfather. You have a rotten brain and sores. What's the point of being an official on the stage? Grandpa thinks you want to die!"
What a familiar style.
The little fat boy stopped crying, opened his mouth wide, and let the wind dry his tears.
Looking at the young man behind me, he was swearing all the time and was extremely aggressive.
"Zhao, Grandpa Zhao?" he muttered to himself.
This is Imperial Doctor Zhao, that is Imperial Doctor Zhao. Are there two Imperial Doctors Zhao in the Imperial Hospital?
But, but.
The fat baby thinks everything is strange.
Doctor Zhao, who was in his prime at the time, held the little fat boy in one hand, groaned, picked him up, and kicked Doctor Zhao, who had the same surname, twice. He said, "Your Highness, I think you and I are destined to be together. It must be me who knows you. How can this idiot be Doctor Zhao..."
He had to keep going.
The little fat boy came closer to him and buried his head in his neck. His hot tears made Doctor Zhao freeze.
"This must be a sweet dream!" said the fat baby.
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