Worry

Julia listens quietly and shakes her head, “My friend, you are too obsessive about the details. If you join us and choose one from the three, you are just putting up a gesture that you agree our daddy is ill and he needs some medicine.”

“That’s a strange statement to come from you, Julia,” Philo smiled, “As a barrister by training, you should know better than me that if I choose from your remedies, I am expressing more opinion than I am prepared to agree, and, I dare say, the actual content is something I disagree. As George Crabbe said, that was all wrong because not all was right.”

“Why are you against the idea of mantou in blood? It seems a fantastic treatment in theory. Do you have any evidence that it doesn’t work?” Siebella asks.

“No, but, on the other hand, I have no evidence that it works. Very few people had such a treatment in the past,” the middle age man says, “Well, my initial worry is a humble and tactical one. If that bloody mantou is really chosen as the treatment, each of you three will arrange your own medicinal bun for your father. That is, three in total! Not only would the old man find it difficult to tolerate, the effort against your evil brothers would be divided and whatever they decide to do would be unopposed.”