Looking at Dean Fan, who stood a head taller than himself, with a face of solemn seriousness and an aura of old-school academia quite pronounced, President Chen felt a sudden thump in his heart.
It's over, it's over.
Old Fan must have seen the little essay Yeye cobbled together last night.
Just last night he had vouched for Yeye's honor, and today, it seemed his reputation was at stake.
President Chen glanced at Director Niu, who was peeking at them through the main office door, and said to Dean Fan with some gravity, "May I have a word with you in private?"
Director Niu pursed his thick lips.
Another little secret, how stingy!
Once inside Dean Fan's office, President Chen closed the door.
Perhaps out of guilt, he didn't look at Dean Fan's expression; he walked straight to the floor-to-ceiling windows, facing the students passing by below, hands clasped behind his back.
That silhouette resembled that of an old father, heartbroken over his daughter.
