The situation didn't look very promising.
Nan Zhubin slightly adjusted his center of gravity, maintaining a seated posture but his left foot had already retreated half a step, his right foot slightly forward, and his elbow was involuntarily raised.
The man in the suit stood at the door, his chest heaving violently, eyes fixed on the curly-haired doctor.
The curly-haired doctor's lips moved, but before any sound came out—
Knock, knock, knock.
Three knocks on the door.
Pausing the nearly frozen atmosphere in the evaluation room.
The door was pushed open from the outside.
Doctor Wen, whom Nan Zhubin had just been about to go look for, appeared, half his body poking in from the doorway.
"Doctor Wen?" The curly-haired doctor clutched at him like a drowning man grabbing a life-saving straw, "Don't you have a consultation?"
