"Feifan, come take a seat!"
Sun Le warmly gestured for Yan Feifan to take the seat beside him. "The others either had something come up last-minute or ran into issues with their patients," he explained. "They'll probably be a little late."
"Have some tea first."
Yan Feifan thanked him for pouring the tea, then fell silent, fiddling with the ordinary teacup in his hands as if it were a priceless, one-of-a-kind antique.
'Maybe the others are late because Sun Le gave them a later time for the gathering,' he guessed.
Yan Feifan decided to wait and see.
This fit the impression others had of him: a medical genius who wasn't skilled at socializing and only knew how to bury himself in his studies and work.
For the next few minutes, Sun Le spoke in an astonished tone, showering Yan Feifan with praise for his recent accomplishments.
Yan Feifan offered only brief responses—a smile, a nod, or a noncommittal "mhm"—looking embarrassed and reluctant to elaborate.
