"Old Zhu, don't be so petty, it's just for a month, or maybe 25 days, 20 days, if not then fifteen days, fifteen days should be fine, right? Besides, she was almost at our hospital initially; if you weren't so quick, there would've been no business for you, Old Zhu."
"Bullshit!" Director Zhu suddenly turned around, holding a mop in his hand, and hurled it toward Director Zhu.
"Old Zhu, Old Zhu, let's be gentlemen and use our words, not our hands."
The moment Director Zhao saw Director Zhu wielding a weapon, all hell broke loose. Old Zhu's temper had truly gotten worse over the years. His patience, like his hair, was fine when everything was uneventful, but the moment something didn't go his way, he was truly ready to resort to fists and kicks.
An unsheathed sword has no eyes, and neither does a mop. His flesh wasn't as tough as stone; if he got hit, which part of him wouldn't turn black and blue? And if he got hit on the head, then what?