Abraham Lincoln shrank his neck, bracing himself for Edward Carter's overwhelming fury. Writing a self-criticism, having his bonus docked, being named and shamed—he was ready to accept it all.

Rushing as fast as he could, he was still fifteen minutes late. Fortunately, although the symposium started on time, the greetings and small talk inevitably delayed things a bit, so by the time he entered the conference room, the meeting hadn't officially begun.

"I mean your hair!"

With outsiders present, Brian Carter couldn't lose his temper, but he glared at the long hair on Abraham Lincoln's back, suppressing his anger. In just two days, it had grown so long—unbelievable.

"Uh! It's a wig. A friend played a prank and glued it on."

Abraham Lincoln's eyes darted around, and he decisively blamed it on a "friend."

"This is a one-time exception. Tomorrow, tidy yourself up before coming in. Sit down, quickly!"

As the dean, the experienced Brian Carter could easily tell this kid was lying through his teeth, but he didn't call him out. He casually pointed to a spot by the wall near the conference table. Abraham Lincoln could have sat at the table, but since he was late, he could only sit by the wall with the other observers.

"Yes, yes!"

Abraham Lincoln hurriedly took his seat.

The psychiatry and mental health symposium led by the Seventh People's Hospital was not only for exchanging cases and sharing treatment results, but also a showcase of strength. They needed highly educated specialists like Abraham Lincoln to hold up the event. A row of PhDs and master's degree holders sitting together was a pleasing sight.

Luckily, he had reviewed the materials needed for the symposium on the way and hadn't forgotten his professional knowledge. The meeting, which lasted over three hours in the morning, was finally muddled through.

After the meeting, as he was about to join the group for lunch, Abraham Lincoln was called over by someone—it was the head of psychiatry, Samuel Cooper.

"Abraham Lincoln, there's a scheduled evaluation this afternoon. You'll be in charge."

"Director Cooper, I still have to attend the symposium this afternoon."

Having seen the symposium schedule, Abraham Lincoln remembered it would last two days, and today was only the first day.

Samuel Cooper looked serious and said solemnly, "I'll inform Dean Carter about the afternoon meeting. This evaluation was requested by the city public security bureau. It's related to a criminal case and is very important. You must take it seriously."

"I understand."

Abraham Lincoln nodded.

The Seventh People's Hospital had many business dealings with the public security and judicial system, and forensic evaluations were a regular part of the job. For major cases, they would seek out professionals from big hospitals for third-party evaluations to ensure accuracy and fairness.

Although he missed out on the symposium's banquet, the hospital cafeteria had a special meal today. Abraham Lincoln managed to grab a serving of the chef's specialty sweet and sour ribs, happily crunching away—even chewing up and swallowing the bones.

A young nurse in a white uniform sat down across from him with her bowl. Abraham Lincoln looked up, swallowed his mouthful of ribs, and greeted her.

"Olivia Smith, you look even prettier after just two days."

Teasing the young, pretty nurses was a favorite pastime for many male doctors and nurses—probably the only fun in an otherwise dull and tedious job.

The nurse's apple-like round face turned slightly red. She said, "All you do is joke around. Don't you know trouble is coming?"

"Trouble is coming?"

Abraham Lincoln's chopsticks paused.

……

Section 3: A Hot Potato

"Take a look at this first."

Olivia Smith glanced around, then pushed over a copy of the "Binjiang Daily."

To others, bringing a newspaper to lunch was just a habit of reading while eating, snatching a bit of leisure in a busy day. But she had brought it on purpose.

The "Binjiang Daily" had a daily circulation of over a million, known for its outspoken and upright reporting, and was very popular among citizens. Whenever major news broke, you could always spot a "Binjiang Daily" reporter. It was said that the equipment in their news vans was even better than that of the police criminal investigation department.

On the front page that Olivia Smith had deliberately turned to, there was a particularly striking news story, with a bold headline: "Hatred Born of Jealousy, Failed Love—Rich Second Generation Runs Over Rival with Car."

A young master from a wealthy family had taken a liking to a working-class girl who ran a food stall. But the girl already had someone she loved, so she repeatedly rejected the rich kid's advances. Out of jealousy and frustration, the unhinged rich kid drove his Maserati straight into the girl's food stall, killing her boyfriend—who was helping out after work—on the spot, and injuring four or five customers to varying degrees.

By rights, a life for a life—the rich kid couldn't escape the death penalty.

Noticing Abraham Lincoln's gaze fixed on the news, nurse Olivia Smith immediately lowered her voice and said, "The evaluation scheduled for this afternoon is for that rich kid."

"That guy has a mental illness?"

Abraham Lincoln frowned.

A girl who didn't care about wealth and worked hard for herself was a rare find. Even if his love was unrequited, he should have respected her. To take lives so recklessly was utterly deranged—no normal person would do such a thing.

"Hmph, everyone knows what's going on. The young master from a rich family wants a psychiatric evaluation to escape legal punishment. That guy deserves to be shot—immediately, at that."

Olivia Smith snorted and pulled up online news comments on her phone.