Who would study psychology unless they had some issues?! Chapter 124 - 124 122 Can You Teach Me Micro-expression Anal

124: Chapter 122: Can You Teach Micro-expression Analysis?

124: Chapter 122: Can You Teach Micro-expression Analysis?

It’s been a long ti since the incident happened, but President Chen still doesn’t know how to face his daughter.

Even thinking about it now, despite President Chen’s Qi Cultivation Technique, he can’t help but grit his teeth when it cos to that beastly teacher: “I even think Wang An wasn’t dealt with quickly and harshly enough!”

“It’s all in the past, it’s all in the past.” Howard quickly poured President Chen a cup of tea.

This was a rather amateurish social nicety, which offered no comfort to President Chen.

Fortunately, President Chen himself has decent emotional managent and doesn’t need comfort; he recovered quickly.

He glanced at Howard: “Speaking of which, we should really thank Mr.

Nan — I saw that video online.

Tingting pointed him out, and that animal Wang An admitted it.

Once it spread, the impact was huge, and the school couldn’t suppress it at all.”

At this point, President Chen paused: “Not to ntion, that was a class from the law school.

Which of the parents would want such a teacher teaching their child?

If he was a senior professor, that would be different; but Wang An…

hmm.”

Howard suddenly thought of sothing and carefully leaned closer to President Chen.

“I heard — Director Xia’s daughter is in the sa class as your daughter, right?”

President Chen didn’t speak, didn’t confirm or deny, just extinguished his cigarette butt and drank the tea in one gulp.

“I’ve disturbed you for long enough today, so I’ll get going.”

Howard wanted to persuade him to stay: “Teacher Nan’s consultation will be over soon, why not wait, and I’ll have him co over…”

President Chen waved his hand and left determinedly.

Howard had to show reluctance, shaking hands and linking arms, accompanying President Chen all the way to the elevator.

…

As the elevator doors closed in front of him, President Chen’s expression turned utterly indifferent, with not a trace of social interaction left.

When he reached the door, the phone rang again.

Looking down, the screen still showed [Wife].

President Chen frowned but neither answered nor hung up, carrying the ringing phone all the way downstairs.

His private driver had been waiting for a long ti.

The mont the driver opened the car door for him, the phone call ended, sending a false impression to his wife of “unanswered call, I’m busy, no ti to take your call.”

But President Chen did not show any sign of relief from the cessation of the phone’s ringing, as it promptly rang a second ti.

“Boss, where to?”

The driver glanced at President Chen through the rearview mirror; President Chen didn’t reply.

The phone rang for a second ti, then a third.

At once, the car was filled with the sound of the phone ringing.

President Chen’s face was filled with irritation; he opened his mouth, then closed it, as if there was a long-prepared word in his mouth, but he hadn’t resolved to speak it.

After a mont, he suddenly sighed: “Old Liu, sotis I feel like I need psychological consultation myself…”

The driver, an old company hand with President Chen for a long ti, knew that the boss wasn’t seeking his opinion but just talking.

Indeed, President Chen didn’t care about the driver’s reaction.

He tugged irritably at his collar and seed about to say sothing when he suddenly paused—he saw two people passing by outside.

A tall and skinny man and a comparatively shorter and plumper woman.

The man exudes a timid, gloomy aura, but despite being taller, he seems like a child; the woman holds her head high and chest out, moving with a strong stride, not caring about matching her pace with the man’s and charging ahead on her own.

President Chen, with his social experience, could tell they were likely a couple.

“But why does it look like an angry mom walking her son?” the driver suddenly laughed, saying what President Chen was thinking.

Though the driver’s wording brought a point to President Chen.

“‘Walking’ her son?”

“Isn’t it?” the driver continued, “When my son angers my wife, she doesn’t talk, just keeps walking forward on the street until my son apologizes.”

This scene was eerily similar to the scene they were witnessing, making President Chen chuckle.

“Your son appeases your wife?”

President Chen found it amusing: “What does your son do to make your wife angry?”

The driver blinked, and the smile on his face slowly disappeared, suddenly finding himself unable to co up with an answer.

It might be because the answers are many and hard to sort out, or maybe there really is no answer.

President Chen also blinked: “Does your wife just get angry without warning, and then your son has to console her?”

The driver’s smile vanished entirely, sinking into thought.

President Chen hesitated: “Your son and your wife—are their roles reversed?

Generally, isn’t it the mother who consoles the son?”

The driver explained: “My son…

is quite mature.”

But President Chen shook his head: “And Old Liu, you frequently work overti, sotis even sleep in the car — is it because you don’t want to go ho to appease your wife?”

The driver lowered his head, without answering.

President Chen rubbed his forehead: “Your son has it tough.

You really shouldn’t just leave your son like that…”

His motion suddenly stopped.

“Old Liu,” he suddenly asked, “how’s your son doing lately?”

The driver suddenly laughed: “Thanks to President Chen for arranging his entrance into the city’s top school two months ago.

The kid is still a bit naughty, but his grades have improved trendously compared to before.

Of course, he’s still no match for your daughter…”

“Is your son commuting?”

“Ah, yes.

He’s a senior now, so he has to focus on his studies, and my wife rented a place near the school to stay with him.

Eating and sleeping there is better than at school…”

The driver prattled on, but President Chen didn’t reply, and his expression suddenly sank.

Ring, ring—

The phone rang again.

President Chen suddenly seed to wake up, trembling slightly, imdiately pressing the [hang up] button, no longer pretending it was an unanswered call.

Looking out of the window again, the tall and short couple had long disappeared from view.

“Old Liu,” President Chen suddenly called.

“Boss?

Back to the company?”

“No,” President Chen’s expression relaxed, “…let’s go to Jiang University.

I plan to visit my daughter.”

…

[Monthly Goal: Complete 10 hours of “Psychological Consultation” within one month (7/10), after which conduct 1 “Psychological Ability Training”.]

Beside his ear, the alarm clock suddenly rang, pulling Nan Zhubin out of the dream psychological consulting room.

There’s another consultation in a while.

He’s very close to completing the [Monthly Goal].

It’s still early in the month, and if this [Monthly Goal] is helpful to him, then he will have plenty of ti later.

So Nan Zhubin pays particular attention to the upcoming consultation.

“Brother Bing, the client for my consultation later, will they be arriving today as expected…

hmm?”

Nan Zhubin was thinking this when he looked up.

And unexpectedly saw Beard sitting next to his workstation.

That seat usually belongs to Shen Bing.

“Mr.

Hu?” Nan Zhubin asked in surprise, “Is there sothing you need?”

His beard, though covering part of his face and contours, obscuring so subtle expressions from being captured by Nan Zhubin.

But the uncovered part was enough to show a face indicating “I have sothing to discuss with you and even waited without disturbing your sleep until now”.

Sure enough, when Beard opened his mouth, Nan Zhubin raised an eyebrow.

“Mr.

Nan…

can you teach Micro-expression Analysis?”