Doctor Wen spat out a string of nos, and Song Zimo couldn't get a word in.
Even Xu Zhiliang seemed extremely impatient, he turned around and gestured for Robert to aim the phone at him.
"You, you, his mother's, just, one word, success, rate, high, not high?"
Hearing this Xu-style speech, Zhang Lin's neck broke into a sweat. He was part of Xu Zhiliang's group, a subordinate doctor to Xu Zhiliang, and had to deal with this mode of communication almost every day. Whenever he encountered such a stutter, not only did Zhang Lin not dare to contradict him, but he also had to listen respectfully and earnestly from start to finish, not missing a word.
Wen Ruzheng's voice came from the phone, "Very, very, very high, almost the same as a, a, a regular frozen tissue section."
His mother's, actually daring to mimic him, Xu Zhiliang was so annoyed he itched.
"Tell him, if there's any mishap, this time he won't be allowed to wear even underpants when he streaks," Yang Ping said to the phone.
