Lin Chen looked at Li Fuyou, who was counting money on the side, with a speechless expression on his face.
Zhou Lun smiled and said, "Old Li, you're still so stingy, the sickness was cured by young Lin."
"So what if he cured it, he is a doctor at our clinic, money earned naturally has to be turned in." Li Fuyou said with a smug look on his face.
Zhou Lun sighed, "Old Li, I need to ask you a favor. If one day I'm gone, could you take care of Ah Cai for me?"
Upon hearing Zhou Lun's words, Li Fuyou was stunned for a moment, then asked, "Why are you saying such things? Has something happened?"
Li Fuyou sighed and took out a film: "I've got a terminal illness, I probably won't live much longer."
"What?" Li Fuyou's complexion changed, he took the film and looked at it for a moment, his face also showed a trace of sympathy.
"Old Zhou, how did you get this kind of sickness?"
Zhou Lun sighed, "Ah, I am usually quite careful with my health, who knew I would get this disease."
