Who would study psychology unless they had some issues?!

The morning consultation lasted until twelve thirty.

Normal end time should be twelve o’clock.

All morning, Director He was calling names quickly, spending an average of ten minutes per patient, occasionally dragging a minute or two more for issuing check-up orders or explaining precautions.

Theoretically, Director He and the attendees should have been able to finish before twelve o’clock.

But in reality, during the consultations, there were patients who squeezed in after completing their previous check-ups to have Director He look at their results; there were also sporadic patients who cut in line, complaining how hard it was to get Director He’s number and how serious their issues were, asking if they could be squeezed in...

With the latter, if there was backing from doctors from other departments, Director He could temporarily add a number and have the person re-queue; if not, she would resolutely refuse.

And this back-and-forth process would consume a lot of time.

When the last patient left, Director He leaned back in her chair, took off her glasses, and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

Finally, there was no one left.

"That’s all for the morning." She said, her voice hoarser than in the morning, "The afternoon starts at two, you can come back if you have time."

The interns stood up one after another, folded the plastic stools, and filed out of the consultation room.

"I’m starving..."

"Seriously, why did it take so long..."

"Others went to eat as early as eleven."

Nan Zhubin heard someone murmuring beside him.

Nan Zhubin did not join in the discussion, his face carried a sense of satisfaction from his brain being filled with knowledge.

He turned back and saw the familiar senior with a similar expression to his. Compared to his "satisfaction", the other’s face showed more of a "shutdown", as if most cognitive resources had been mobilized to digest knowledge, with just enough left to maintain survival in energy-saving mode.

"Want to have lunch together?" Nan Zhubin suggested, initiating conversation with the familiar senior for the first time.

"Ah... ah?"

"I have a senior brother who was an intern here before, recommended a nearby small diner, said it’s really good." Nan Zhubin said, while pointing to his temple, "Absorbed so much in the morning, need to eat something good to replenish energy in the afternoon."

The familiar senior looked dazed but did not refuse.

The two put their stools back in the break room, took off their lab coats and folded them neatly, and walked out through the side door of the Jingwei Center.

The sunlight outside was hotter than in the morning, feeling a bit burning on the face. The street where Jingwei Center is located is not very busy, with shops on both sides being mostly pharmacies, grocery stores, or health product stores, all small in size with grayish signs, completely different from those chain stores in shopping malls.

It was peak lunch hour, but fortunately, this place was remote, so there was no need to queue.

Nan Zhubin ordered two fish-flavored shredded pork rice bowls, the familiar senior just nodded throughout. While waiting for the meal, he finally crossed his hands on the table, leaned back, and looked up at the rotating ceiling fan, letting out a long sigh.

"I need to take it easy." He said, "The morning consultations had too much information."

Nan Zhubin didn’t respond, picking up the teapot on the table to pour himself a cup of water. The water was warm, the tea flavor very light, barely detectable.

The familiar senior didn’t mind Nan Zhubin not responding and began counting on his fingers.

"The one in the sailor uniform, self-harm, thighs, graduate school rumors, poor medication compliance—this is the first one." He raised a finger,

"Second, that boy who worshiped Buddha, tic disorder, mother self-medicating."

These were the two most memorable from the morning.

Then there were more—

He raised a second finger: "Third, an aunt who always feels there’s water at home, constantly mopping, always feels someone is cursing her—auditory and visual hallucinations, typical schizophrenia."

"Fourth... completely unable to communicate, only smiles at people throughout, all symptoms answered by family. This one obviously needs hospitalization, but did you hear how Director He refused them? That person had been hospitalized before and even hurt a nurse..."

"Fifth, Severe Depression, the most normal case... but it’s my first time seeing a severely depressed patient carrying a blade! When he pulled out the blade from his pocket, it shocked me. Yet Director He was so experienced, her expression didn’t change at all..."

The familiar senior had finished digesting the knowledge and began to output it.

Regarding the patients encountered in the morning, he could recount them with familiarity.

"...As for the last one in the morning, that was really..." The familiar senior shook his head.

"A middle schooler, claimed to have joined a cult?" He widened his eyes, "When I heard it the first time, I doubted my life, does this even exist in the country?"

Nan Zhubin sipped his tea, remained silent.

"Then you heard what he said later? Their sect’s creed is to destroy humanity, the daily activities of the sect are to appreciate human suffering and grim appearances!"

"Asked how he usually communicates with fellow believers, he said there’s no need to communicate, God directly conveys the will to his mind—and he said he’s a bishop of their sect!"

The familiar senior also picked up the cup, drank a mouthful of almost tasteless tea, and smacked his lips.

"One morning, we had an automatic Buddha worshipper saying ’Amitabha Buddha’ as a Buddhist Holy Son, and another who can directly communicate with God as a cult bishop..."

He’s quite talented at making up nicknames.

Even though discussing these the familiar senior’s face showed no laughter but rather seriousness and conflict.