Outside The First Research Institute.
A black Range Rover was quietly parked by the roadside.
The man in the driver’s seat rolled down the car window, resting his arm outside, sitting lazily and elegantly inside the car, seemingly waiting for soone.
"Amadeus." In less than five minutes, a bewildered young man jogged back, opened the car door, rubbed his hands, got in, and said to him, "I delivered the letter to that person just as you instructed."
Amadeus Yancey glanced at him through the car’s rearview mirror, lazily acknowledged with a simple: "Mm."
"Amadeus, do you know... that person?"
Alfred Garland hadn’t returned for over a month, and just before his return, Amadeus Yancey sent him to get a recomndation letter from Master Cadmus.
He had just gotten off the airplane, and Amadeus Yancey sent him to deliver the letter to The First Research Institute.
Alfred scratched his head: "Who is this Orson Saban? Does Master Cadmus also know him? Who did you ask Master Cadmus to recomnd to him?"
"Do you know why Master Cadmus and the others can live to 80 years old?" Amadeus Yancey still had his arm resting outside, one hand lazily placed on the steering wheel, turning his face slightly, his gaze fixed in the direction of The First Research Institute, seemingly asking casually.
Is there a connection between the two?
"I don’t know." Alfred looked puzzled, shook his head, thought for a mont, and then rack his brains: "Because the people from Master Cadmus’ generation are sturdy, they don’t smoke or drink, and they have healthy living habits?"
"..." Amadeus Yancey finally glanced at him, raised a hand to shield his eyes, seemingly unable to bear looking directly at Alfred’s understanding.
He then spoke in an extrely exasperated tone: "...because they don’t talk as much as you do!"
Alfred wasn’t dumb, he just sotis had a very straightforward way of thinking about things.
He quickly understood what Amadeus Yancey ant and imdiately felt depressed.
He realized Amadeus was annoyed with him, and wisely didn’t pursue further questioning.
Soon enough.
Nathalie Quinlan answered a phone call and ca out from The First Research Institute.
She recognized Amadeus Yancey’s car and imdiately identified the Range Rover parked across the street as Amadeus Yancey’s vehicle in Inderia.
Nathalie Quinlan walked straight towards the off-road vehicle.
Two minutes later, she crossed the street, walked to the car’s side, and effortlessly opened the car door, spotting Alfred Garland sitting inside.
"Ms. Quinlan." Alfred Garland hadn’t seen Nathalie Quinlan in a while, and especially since he had just been heavily criticized by Amadeus Yancey, seeing Nathalie Quinlan again was like seeing family; his eyes lit up.
Nathalie Quinlan initially intended to sit in the back, her hand still pausing in the motion of opening the car door, and was montarily taken aback upon seeing him.
She coolly nodded and acknowledged him.
Then she offered the back seat, having no choice but to move to the front passenger seat, opened the car door, and sat down.
Amadeus Yancey saw the girl get into the car and fasten her seatbelt, his gaze warm and indulgent, like sunlight scattered gently, and he softly explained to her: "Alfred just got back, landed an hour ago."
"I know." Nathalie Quinlan was sowhat surprised that he brought this up with her, adjusted her duckbill cap, revealing a fair, sculpted chin: "Where are we going next?"
Amadeus Yancey had heard from Sadam Vinson that things seed not to be going well for her in the Level 8 laboratory, his eyes darkening a little, as he asked her: "What ti are you coming back this afternoon?"
When he brought this up, Nathalie Quinlan felt a headache coming on, lowered her gaze, lashes slightly drooping, pondered for a mont: "...it seems anything would work."
This morning, Orson Saban didn’t show up at the lab at all, which showed how dissatisfied he was with her!
It seed that whether she went to the lab in the afternoon or not didn’t matter.
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