"Cough, cough. May I ask your name?"
Zhou Zhi held his notebook and asked with utmost seriousness.
Li Xinling narrowed his eyes at Zhou Zhi. "Mr. Zhou Ran, is this a necessary part of the process?"
He was deeply... perplexed by the man before him.
Those black-rimmed glasses kept coming off and going back on, as if revealing their owner's fondness for them.
Zhou Ran answered matter-of-factly, "Of course it is."
"As a Plague Exterminator, one must be this rigorous. Just like in a hospital, where the following record must be made: [Patient Li Xinling, male, forty-six years old, found unconscious at XX on XX date and time; relatives received no response when calling him and thus brought him in for treatment. Patient has no history of XX; no XX observed in XX area; XX reflexes XX; XX treatment administered; XX examination indicated XX; preliminary diagnosis of XX, and patient was admitted for treatment.] Interviews are like admission records—there can be no carelessness."
Twenty-Three inside Zhou Zhi had already grown used to it. You really are something.
Li Xinling was somewhat doubtful whether the man before him was truly Zhou Ran, the one who had inherited the power of the Patient Association's president. However... he could sense the hidden, immense power within the other party.
It was a flash of instinct honed over years of battle as the Lion King.
"What do you want to ask first? Ask directly. My time is limited... and I believe yours is as well."
Li Xinling gathered his emotions and suddenly spoke in a gentler tone.
"If nothing goes wrong, the Medical Department will be fully unsealed by the end of the month. If they learned that the will of that former great rebel—the president—still existed in the Pestilence World, what would they think?"