The sun was high in the sky.
In the Anwan Fingerprint Battle Operations Room (the smoking room), the air conditioning was as slow as chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.
Wei Shikan sat sweating in his chair, staring blankly at the screen. On the paper in front of him were messy scribbles of formulas, with some annotations like HE and WT, but they were all fragmented beyond recognition.
Li Zemin pretended to pass by, glanced at Wei Shikan's expression, and showed an inexplicable look of comfort on his face.
If watching Jiang Yuan work was like sitting at a volcano's edge watching lava, then Wei Shikan was like a Muggle-sized ice cube—approaching him to cool down the room was always a comfortable presence.
"Master Uncle, got a question for you," Wei Shikan suddenly lifted his head and called out to Li Zemin.
Li Zemin's smile flashed and disappeared, replaced by caution: "I've got cases piled up over here... What do you want to ask?"
