Who would study psychology unless they had some issues?!

Therefore, conducting a practical MMPI test on the person with the orange vest could, in a sense, help determine whether they were ’playing dumb’ in the first two intelligence tests.

Of course, Nan Zhubin could also confirm this through Micro-expression Analysis, but this cannot serve as a written reference.

A scale is still needed.

"Overall, this crime suspect did not conceal, exaggerate, or deliberately guide in any direction. The result is his true state."

Nan Zhubin said, "His Pd score, Pa score, and Ma are all significantly high, while the other scale dimensions are within the normal range."

Pd is Psychopathy, Pa is Paranoid, Ma is Hypomania.

"But as I said, in terms of sentencing, these scores have no reference value. Even if a diagnosis was made, the MMPI, although comprehensive, is not deep enough to provide a conclusion."

"So, if a conclusion must be drawn about this suspect in today’s psychological test—"

Nan Zhubin said, "It’s merely an Intelligence Disorder."

It is an Intelligence Disorder in the psychiatric sense, simply put, "a bit dull."

There is nothing dramatic or curiosity-invoking in the conclusion, that’s all.

The colleague listening became somewhat uninterested.

But soon after, he appeared to hesitate to speak.

Nan Zhubin said nothing, just watched as the colleague organized his thoughts and said, "If that’s the case, legally speaking, would he then be... lightly sentenced? Or even not sentenced?"

The colleague’s expression was slightly conflicted: "But he’s a murderer..."

Nan Zhubin raised an eyebrow.

He drank the water in one go, thought for a moment, and decided to say more.

"That’s not our concern."

"...Ah?" The colleague was taken aback.

Nan Zhubin shook his head: "I feel you’re a bit Role Confused."

He softened his tone: "From the simple moral standpoint of a citizen, we certainly hope for ’good begets good, evil begets evil,’ and even that ’murderers should pay with their life.’

But we don’t know the full picture, we don’t even understand the law." Nan Zhubin looked into the colleague’s eyes.

"We—or ’I’—in this event, our Role is just a psychological evaluator."

"I don’t even need Empathy or Support, nor do I need to explore—I even need to avoid that process to not interfere with my objective evaluation."

"But evaluation is just evaluation. We present the data, what it is is what we write."

"As to how many years he should be sentenced for murder, whether he needs to be responsible for his actions or to what degree—that is a job for the judge."

"And our job," Nan Zhubin concluded, "ends with this report."

After hearing these words,

the colleague hesitated to speak, then refrained, falling into contemplation.

Ultimately finding it reasonable.

"Indeed." The colleague nodded, and in the end, professionalism as a psychologist prevailed, suppressing those scattered thoughts.

A thousand words condensed into one sentence: "Haven’t you eaten yet?"

It’s already past two in the afternoon.

Nan Zhubin nodded: "Indeed."

The colleague felt embarrassed. This man had worked intensely all morning, and as soon as he came out, he was bombarded with questions and was left hungry.

"What do you want to eat, I’ll go check the cafeteria for you, it’s open 24/7." The colleague patted his chest.

Before Nan Zhubin could say anything,

Buzz—Buzz—

his phone suddenly rang. The caller ID showed it was the doctor in charge of consultation allocation.

Though it’s late, there are still about twenty minutes left of lunch break. A call at this time means it must be something urgent, or the doctor considers the visitor very important.

"Hello? Is there a consultation?" Nan Zhubin answered the phone.

The colleague looked disgruntled, thinking Nan Zhubin was working too hard.

But then, the colleague watched as Nan Zhubin’s expression gradually shifted to one of reflection, then again softened, and finally turned into a kind of sentiment.

"Okay, I can do that, I’ll do it right at the start of the afternoon." Nan Zhubin replied.

As soon as he hung up, the colleague anxiously asked: "What kind of consultation is so urgent? You just finished one consultation this morning, can’t you rest for a while..."

Nan Zhubin raised his hand: "It’s alright, a twenty-minute nap is enough to refresh. This visitor is somewhat special."

"I’ll have to trouble you to bring me food then."

Without waiting for the colleague to respond, Nan Zhubin went to the desk in the office, sat down, and laid both arms in front of him.

Bang—

Inhale... Exhale... Inhale... Exhale...

The colleague watched as Nan Zhubin fell asleep instantly, feeling a bit lost.

What’s going on with this person?

Is it really... okay?

...

14:30.

Nan Zhubin sat on the sofa in the consultation room.

Hardly had he adjusted his state when there was a knock at the door.

Knock, knock, knock—

So punctual it was like an alarm clock, the visitor seemed to have been waiting for this time anxiously, not wanting to wait even a second longer.

"Come in," Nan Zhubin said.

The door opened, and in walked a man in his thirties, short-haired, dressed in black, with stubble on his face.

He was urgent when knocking, but after entering, he appeared apprehensive, to the point of being somewhat helpless.

"Please sit."

Nan Zhubin chose a different opening than usual: "I’ve already gotten a rough understanding of your situation from the doctor who communicated with me."

The visitor sat down, hands clenched into fists: "...Mm."