Proibido verificar meus ingredientes

"Doctor, do you think I’m sick?"

Sitting opposite Mo Bai, Dr. Zhao gave a polite but awkward smile. "Of course you’re sick."

"If you weren’t sick, why would you come see a psychiatrist like me?"

Mo Bai retorted, "But what if I’m just looking for trouble?"

Dr. Zhao raised his hand, cutting Mo Bai off. "Then I should remind you, my service charges by the minute—fifty yuan per minute."

Mo Bai fell silent.

"Fine, I really do have something wrong," Mo Bai admitted, beginning to describe his condition. "Dr. Zhao, you don’t know. Lately, I keep seeing strange things above people’s heads..."

Dr. Zhao jotted down a note. "What kind of things specifically?"

"Uh," Mo Bai paused, then said seriously, "I can see people’s ingredients."

"For example, white river dolphin, Walmart plastic bag, goblin, rice spirit, things like that."

Dr. Zhao’s interest was piqued. "So what ingredients do I have?"

"Well..." Mo Bai glanced at him and replied expressionlessly, "Quack doctor."

Dr. Zhao was speechless.

He clapped his hands in admiration. "You’re quite accurate."

Mo Bai was baffled. "Hey! Is it really okay for you to call yourself a quack? I’m about to pay you! Don’t make me report you!"

"Calm down, kid. I’ve got people above me… cough, cough." Dr. Zhao cleared his throat and moved the conversation along. "That’s not important. How l