"What does Chief Fang want with me?"
At the A City base, Ling Zhuang finished his autopsy at an unhurried pace, changed into a fresh white coat, a coat indistinguishable from the previous one, and only then made his way to Fang Jing's office. By the time he arrived, almost an hour had passed since Fang Jing's men came to fetch him.
Upon entering the room, he immediately noticed Fang Jing's impatient expression.
Ling Zhuang's own demeanor remained calm and composed, still carrying that gentle yet distant smile.
Fang Jing felt as though he had punched a soft cotton ball, his anger landed nowhere. The man before him seemed completely oblivious to his displeasure.
He really is a lab idiot, Fang Jing scoffed inwardly. He can't even read basic expressions.
Was this why he dared to lay a hand on his nephew, Fang Geng, earlier?
He clearly didn't know whom he could afford to offend.
