There was no one in the dean's room, and the décor was similar to that in the hallway, it didn't look like an office and more like a biology lab with extremely demanding hygiene, with no superfluous decorations, just a desk, a row of bookcases, and a few photographs of bacteria under an electron microscope hanging on the wall.

I approached An Jianing uneasily, and my eyes flew to a small silver-white door in the corner of the room.

Ten seconds later, the door opened, and out came a man in a white coat, looking at us with a smile.

He looked to be in his forties, skinny, and of a standard East Asian appearance, with a silver thread on his face, his face was a little pale, exactly like the photograph posted in the hospital lobby.

My father told me to protect An Jianing, and I didn't know what I thought, so I stepped forward and stretched out my hand to An Jianing before him, and said, "Hello, Dean Fujii." ”

"Hello." He stood half an arm's length away from me, smiled and stretched out his hand to say hello to me, and bent down to salute with a warm and well-mannered attitude that contrasted with the feeling of a hospital.

After saying hello, he lifted his gold-rimmed glasses and squinted at An Jianing. I followed his line of sight and found that An Jianing was also looking at him, and both of them had an inquiring meaning.

I was caught in the middle, and I didn't know what to say for a moment. Dean Fujii raised his hand to signal us to sit, and he also walked to the back of the desk and sat down, his eyes kept glued to An Jianing, and I saw that my heart was beating a drum, but An Jianing himself was calm and relaxed, and let him snoop on him generously, and sat down leisurely.

"Presumably this one is, Mr. An." After Dean Fujii sat down, he said gently and slowly,

"The old man has been waiting for you for a long time." An Jianing

"Oh?" With a sigh, Fujii pushed his glasses and continued, "Professor An Zhi is an old friend of mine, and Mr. An Jianing was sent to him from me in the first place. Then he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing even smaller.

"At that time, it was clear that he had already been sentenced to death, and the lifeless person appeared in front of him so unharmed, amazing, really magical." His tone sounded sincere and even full of reverence, but the eyes staring at An Jianing made me feel strange from the bottom of my heart.

I quietly poked An Jianing with my elbow and asked him with my eyes if I could tell if what Dean Fujii said was true or false.

An Jianing seemed to read my gaze and nodded. In this way, what Fujii said is true, and he also knows An Jianing's secret.

The arrangements were made in advance, not only my father, but also Uncle An? What do they all know, and what are they guarding against?

"Wait a minute." Dean Fujii worked on his desk, and the bookcase automatically stretched out, handing out a silver folder with a row of green words appearing: An Jianing, diagnosis and discharge records.

He reached out and took the folder down, unlocked the dongle, wrote something inside, stamped it, pushed the folder forward, and raised his hand to beckon us to come and see.

I stepped forward with An Jianing, only to see that the discharge date had been clearly made up on the record, which was today.

"This is just for you." Dean Fujii said, motioning for An Jianing to go and get it. An Jianing reached out to flip through the documents, and his hand moved slowly, and finally trembled, covering An Jianing's hand.