Chapter 918

Hillsdale Hospital? Matthew had heard of this hospital before.

It wasn't because of the great medical standards or the well-known doctors, but because of a saying that had been floating around in Lambda City.

Patients who were admitted to Hillsdale Hospital always ended up in the same fate. They would cry their way in and cry their way out.

When they cried going in, it meant the patient was really sick, and their family was in tears as they dropped them off.

When they cried on their way out, it was because even if they got better, they'd spent a ton of money and might even end up in debt. That was where the tears came from.

Then, another type of caring meant they'd burned through all their money, but the patient still passed away. Both their money and loved ones were gone.

The family suffered the most in situations like this, bawling their eyes out.

Matthew used to believe it was just some made-up story to throw dirt on Hillsdale Hospital, but now he didn't think so anymore. With a doctor like Trafford working there, that rumor was definitely not exaggerated.

He waved his hand at Pierre. "Let's go. I'm going to get back at them for you."

As Matthew spoke, he spotted the injury on Pierre's face and stopped in his tracks. "Your face is hurt pretty bad. You should get those treated first."

Pierre seemed impatient to get his revenge, so he brushed it off and remarked, "It's nothing serious. I'm used to it. Let's take care of the important stuff first."

Talking made the wound on his face sting as he grimaced from the pain.

Upon seeing this, Matthew nodded. "Alright. Let's go. We'll head to confront Trafford right now."

...

A car pulled up to the curb about 200 feet away from Hillsdale Hospital. Two odd people got out of the car.

One of them had a swollen face with a busted lip, and there was still blood on him. The other person carried a bulging nylon bag, stuffed to the brim. They were walked while talking to each other.

Matthew asked, "Are you still treating patients these days?"

Pierre felt the sting and glared at Matthew. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm a doctor, so my job is to treat and save people. I've always been helping patients with their problems."

Matthew recalled Pierre's desk out in the hallway and doubted what Pierre said. He then casually added, "Do you get a lot of patients seeking your treatment?"

Feeling embarrassed, Pierre awkwardly touched his lip injury, and his voice went a lot softer. "Yes. At least one or two people come to me every day just because they've heard of me."

As he spoke, Pierre remembered the times he'd tried to get the attention of patients walking by, along with the looks of disdain and disgust from them.

It tore him up inside. Things turning out like this made him feel like he was failing as a doctor.

Matthew noticed Pierre went quiet, so he continued, "Do you prefer traditional medicine or modern medicine?"

Pierre looked at Matthew in surprise, as if he hadn't expected Matthew to ask such a question.

After a pause, Pierre slowly replied, "I used to prefer traditional medicine because it has no side effects and is the least harmful to the body. But then realized it's a hassle because the consumer has to brew the medicine themselves.

"Boiling the medicine takes time and requires special tools. People who work or go

to school hardly have that kind of time. That's why I find modern medicine more convenient.

"A few years later, I realized modern

medicine is expensive and full of gimmicks. The consumers have to spend a hefty amount for tests

before they can even start

vel

treatment. That's when started to see traditional medicine as a better choice."

Matthew didn't expect Pierre to choose traditional medicine in the end after everything. He chuckled and remarked, "Traditional medicine is great. I'm glad you're into them."

Pierre shook his head. "But I'm not a fan of traditional medicine anymore. Starting last year, the price of traditional medicine went through the roof, and that's already bad enough. But the problem is the quality of traditional medicine is awful.

"After asking around, the owner of a traditional medicine factory told me that all the high-quality stuff had been exported.

"I don't get it. We're stuck with the lowest quality of traditional medicine, and the best goes to foreigners. I just can't bring myself to like traditional medicine anymore."

Matthew didn't say anything, and they just walked down the street.

As they were about to reach the entrance of Hillsdale Hospital, more people started showing up by the side of the road. The atmosphere felt different as well.

People carried signboards and business cards, approaching everyone they saw. "Do you need a room? It's very cheap at 260 dollars a room. It's only 650 feet away from the hospital."

Some were wearing sunglasses and masks, looking super shady. They went up to people and asked, "I've got a slot for a doctor's appointment. Do you want it?"