Hearing this name, Shiller widened his eyes in surprise, but he didn't show it, just silently revisited the young man.
The young Asian man stood a little over 1.8 meters tall and was in good shape, but unlike many Europeans and Americans, he did not work himself into a muscular hulk. He was still somewhat skinny, but the muscles in his forearms indicated significant training.
His facial features were not entirely Asian. He looked more mixed-race. Both his hair and eyes were black. However, his eyebrows were elevated, and there were some Caucasian features in his eyes.
More importantly, Shiller found that he did not look like a Chinese living in America, the young man's expression reflected the substantial cultural differences between the East and the West.
For Eastern people, a smile would suggest just that – a smile, typically showing closed lips, curved upwards at the corners, and sometimes revealing a bit of teeth.
For Westerners, a smile must involve baring teeth, always raising the corners of their mouth, making it more of a caricature-like expression.
This distinction became more evident in group photos, American-born Asians and foreign students, although their appearances were similar, their expressions and demeanor were entirely different, and you could distinguish between the two solely by their photographs.
If the young man in front of him was indeed Xu Shang-Chi, then he should be a Chinese-American, or at least, have been living here for many years.
However, the young man's appearance and expression looked more like those of a new international student, nowhere near the overtly enthusiastic American-style warmth, he was reserved, even shy.
More importantly, Shiller distinctly remembered that Shang-Chi was a kung fu master, with Natasha not having many agents, and with Banner not invoking The Hulk. How did he end up here? And why was he coughing up blood the moment he arrived?
Although in the chaotic Marvel universe, a kung fu master may not be considered strong; but, should be no match for one either?
Although puzzled, Shiller didn't show it, he just silently wrote the name on the medical record, then looked at Xu Shang-Chi and asked, "How are you feeling now? Why were you coughing up blood?"
"I..." Xu Shang-Chi faltered, as if not knowing what to say. Facing Shiller's intense gaze, he felt compelled to say something to earn the doctor's trust because he knew that his current situation was dire. Without an ally, he feared he wouldn't be able to leave here.
Natasha's cold demeanor had put enormous pressure on him. This was no joke. When American agents carried out their operations, once the gunfire started, it would not end easily.
Xu Shang-Chi sighed deeply, imbued with melancholy and sadness. He ran his hands through his dark hair, saying, "I don't know, doctor, I don't know anything."
Shiller gave him a seemingly helpless look saying, "If you don't say anything, I can't help you."
"I genuinely don't know, I have amnesia." Xu Shang-Chi held his face in one hand, ruffling his hair, his brow furrowed tightly, "That day during the conflict, the police fired shots. They hit the back of my head, but a mysterious power protected me, preventing me from dying. However, I started to feel mentally unwell and ran away in panic. I didn't mean to abandon my comrades."
Shiller looked at Xu Shang-Chi's face, hearing his hole-filled explanation, he seemed to have a premonition. He lightly patted the handrail, saying, "Alright, if you insist you've got a mental problem, we'll conduct a comprehensive examination. Should charges be levied against you, the test results may decide your fate."
Shiller stood up and looked at the young man's face, "Rest here for now, I will visit you again tomorrow."
Having said that, Shiller stood up and left. Meanwhile, Xu Shang-Chi watched his back, his brows deeply furrowed.
At midnight, the young man lying in bed suddenly turned his body over. He then turned his head towards the door crack, waiting until the lights in the hallway turned off before he carefully rose.
Feeling the pain in his chest, he swore softly in Chinese, muttered a few phrases in dialect, and used his muscular strength to rise.
He quietly walked over to the window, twisted the window handle to find it unlocked. He then looked left and right, quietly pushing open the window.
Xu Shang-Chi placed one foot on the window sill, ready to leap, but a voce came from behind him.
"I suggest you don't jump. The ground floor is full of agents."
It was Chinese.
Xu Shang-Chi swiftly turned around. He saw the psychologist he met during the day. One hand holding a file of medical records, the other holding a cup of steaming hot water, standing at the door.
Shiller sat down beside Xu Shang-Chi's hospital bed, calmly propped up his leg, and opened the medical record, "Do you fantasize about being in the Marvel world, unleashing your power, realizing your superhero dreams? Feel like a chosen one, and confident that you can escape?"
Xu Shang-Chi, standing in his hospital gown by the window, had his eyes widened in shock because Shiller said all this in fluent Chinese.
He walked up quickly, grabbing the bed rails, "You can't be serious? You too, you said 'Marvel,' right? ...Did you say that??"