After listening to Balan's description, Yu Minglang laughed.
"Haha, what a coincidence. My wife just finished giving me a crash course on hypochondria today, and tonight one just walks in."
Seeing the worry in Balan's eyes, Yu Minglang patted his shoulder. "Relax. My wife specializes in treating all kinds of psychological problems, she's an expert."
For this kind of case, handing it to Qian was nothing at all. Yu Minglang wasn't worried.
But when Balan heard Yu Minglang say that Qian was an expert, instead of feeling relieved, he actually got even more weighed down.
On Qian's side, the treatment went exactly as Yu Minglang had predicted—very smooth.
The old man had hypochondria, with a bit of anxiety disorder thrown in. His family was very filial; even though he was already over eighty, they were still doing everything they could to get him treated, and had gone to several psychiatry experts before who all said the problem wasn't serious.
