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That afternoon, Shi Xiahe took his printed resume and went to the private hospital.

The Chinese Medicine Clinic is on the third floor.

The decoration is elegant, and the air is filled with the faint fragrance of wormwood.

The curator is in his fifties and wears glasses. At first he just flipped through her resume.

When looking at the subsequent case records, the movement slowed down significantly.

Shoulder and neck strain, insomnia and headache, cold-dampness arthralgia, postoperative conditioning, old injuries and diseases...

The causes of disease, syndrome differentiation, acupoints used, conditioning cycles, and feedback results are all clearly written.

The curator looked up at her: "Did you do all this?"

Shi Xiahe nodded: "Yes."

The curator flipped through a few more pages and said with a hint of pity in his tone: "Since you have so much practical experience, why didn't you pass the qualification certificate?"

Shi Xiahe's fingertips were slightly stiff.

She couldn't answer this question.

After her grandfather passed away, some people kept getting in her way.

She can learn and cure.

But she couldn't get a certificate no matter what.

She could only lower her eyes: "Personal reasons."

After a pause, she added: "I am only applying for a Chinese medicine physical therapy assistant position this time. I will not practice medicine independently and will not violate the regulations. You can try me out first. It doesn't matter if the salary is lower."

The curator looked at her with complicated eyes.

Such a person, who only works as a physical therapy assistant, is really overqualified and underqualified.

But without a certificate, he didn't dare to give her a better position.

Finally, he closed his resume.

"You should go back and wait for news."

Shi Xiahe nodded: "Okay, thank you, curator."

She got up and left.

Just as he walked into the corridor, a familiar voice suddenly came from a nearby consulting room.

"My boyfriend will treat you all to dinner tonight, and everyone must appreciate it."

Shi Xiahe paused.

She turned to look.

The door to the consulting room was ajar.

The person standing inside was none other than Song Mingxi.

She was wearing a white coat, her hair was in a bun, and she had a bright smile on her face.

Several young doctors and nurses were cheering around her.

"Xiao Xi, your life is so good, your boyfriend is handsome and rich, and he still loves you so much."

"In order to make it easier for you to commute to and from get off work, I bought you an apartment directly next to the hospital. This is too embarrassing."

"You just had an internship, and he even arranged a job for you. Will you have to struggle for decades to get married?"

Song Mingxi's cheeks turned slightly red after being praised, but the corners of her mouth couldn't be suppressed.

"Don't say that, he just feels sorry for me."

Someone laughed and joked: "I feel sorry for you? I think I love you miserably."

Song Mingxi lowered his eyes, his voice was soft and sweet.

"Who asked me to save him? The grace of saving his life must be given to him."

The consulting room suddenly burst into laughter.

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