Quick Wear: Cousin, Come to the Bowl Quickly

It was a sunny and windy March with catkins flying around the windows. It should have been a great day for an outing with family, but the professor's office at Capital University seemed to be shrouded in dark clouds, filled with an unbreakable chill.

Behind a black walnut table piled with documents, a man in a white shirt, with a frown and a stern expression, was sitting in an armchair.

His hair was combed meticulously, his sleeves were half rolled up, revealing a wrist with well-defined lines, and his slender fingernails were trimmed neatly and roundly. At this moment, he was pressing on a pile of manuscripts on the table, his fingertips pressing lightly on a few lines of text circled in red pen.

A warm breeze blew by, picking up a wisp of willow catkins floating in the air, and it slipped silently in through the window that was not closed tightly. One of the catkins was particularly naughty, spinning in the air, up and down, and was about to land on the man's neatly combed hair.

"Tell me." The man sitting upright suddenly pushed the manuscript in his hand forward and leaned back. His eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses suddenly raised, like two spotlights suddenly shining on the boy opposite him. "What is your innovative point?"

The boy sitting opposite him had a few strands of unkempt hair hanging in front of his forehead, and his eyes were slightly dark blue. His gaze drifted towards the window and then quickly retracted, as if all his energy had been drained away.

The moment he heard the question, his back suddenly stiffened, his knees unconsciously pushed forward, and he almost jumped out of the chair. However, when he met the man's sharp gaze, it was as if the pause button was pressed, and he was stuck in an awkward position half-standing up.

He unconsciously tightened his fingertips on his thighs, causing wrinkles in the fabric of his pants. He licked his dry lips and spoke uncertainly, "Uh, um, um, I tried to use..."

At this point, his Adam's apple rolled with difficulty, "Let's analyze...that...local protectionism phenomenon in the restructuring of township enterprises..."

The man narrowed his eyes slightly, spun the pen around his fingertips, and lightly tapped a page of the student's paper.

"..." Upon hearing this, the man quickly sketched a few lines on the boy's paper. Then he looked up at the nervous boy again. His voice was still calm, but with an undeniable sharpness. "Mr. Wu published it in 88... What's the difference between your analysis and his framework?"

When the boy heard this, his body stiffened, his face turned red, and his lips moved twice, but no sound came out for a long time.

"Besides," the man turned a page, his eyes flashing a sharp, cold light behind his cold lenses. "The data you quoted is from eight years ago, but new policies were introduced last year."

At this point, he paused, as if weighing his words. "Using old data to implement new policies, do you think this innovative idea is tenable?"

“Are you an expert in this field?”

"Have you really read all the documents I gave you?"

"It's already this late, aren't you in a hurry at all?"

……

Tap, tap, tap! Someone passed by in the corridor with brisk footsteps, as if in a good mood. He was humming a popular song in a long-drawn-out tone.

"I used to ask endless questions."

It was clearly a tragic song, but because of the ups and downs and twists and turns of the tune sung by the person outside the door, it seemed a bit funny and made people laugh.

But the two people inside the door were obviously not in the mood to joke at the moment. The boy's originally flushed face turned extremely pale, and even showed signs of turning blue.

The man sitting opposite him looked at him speechless and unable to say a word. He couldn't help but sigh deeply, took off his glasses, pinched his sore nose, adjusted his breathing, and then spoke to the boy.

"The deadline is coming up soon. Do you expect to submit something like this?"

"Song, Teacher Song... Teacher..." The boy, who was completely broken down by his tutor's deadly series of questions, finally couldn't help shouting out, and there was even a hint of crying in his voice.

Looking at the boy in front of him who was completely hopeless, Song Guanwen sighed deeply. This student originally followed another professor in the school, but who would have thought that he was temporarily sent abroad for exchange and would not be able to come back for three to five months. The school then assigned several of his students to other tutors.

This was not the first time he had encountered such a thing. In previous years, no matter how bad the transfer students were, they would have their papers revised into something presentable one month before the defense.

But the person in front of me is an exception. Not only is the topic he chose unconventional, but the framework is also fragmented. Even the most basic literature review is incoherent.

Looking at the paper that had been annotated so much by him that there was almost no place to write, Song Guanwen closed his eyes, looked up at the boy sitting restlessly opposite him, stood up, pulled out several well-bound documents from the bookshelf behind him, and pushed them in front of the boy.

"After reading these today, I'll make a new outline."

The boy stared at the document that was three fingers thick, his Adam's apple rolling with difficulty, "So many..."

He paused as the words reached his lips. He recognized the words on the cover, so he abruptly changed the subject and said, "Thank you, Professor Song. I'll go back and take a look."

"No need, just look here." Song Guanwen put his hand on the boy's shoulder. The force was not strong, but it carried an inexplicable sense of oppression. He stretched out his finger and pointed at the empty space in the corner. "Until the new outline is written, no place is allowed..."

"Tuk-tuk."

The sudden knock on the door made the boy jump up as if he had been saved. "I'll go!"

However, when he stood up, he met Song Guanwen's cold gaze and shrank back into his seat awkwardly. The boy cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "I mean... I'm going to read the literature..."

Song Guanwen glanced at him indifferently without saying much. He just said "hmm" expressionlessly and reached out to hand over the boy's stack of papers that had been scribbled over beyond recognition.

"Tuk-tuk-tuk."

Perhaps because no one came to open the door for a long time, the person outside increased his strength, and a clear voice came through the door again.

Song Guanwen glanced at the boy who was huddled in the corner looking through some documents, straightened his messy cuffs, then stood up, walked to the door, and turned the handle.

"Ding ding ding! Happy birthday, Professor Song."

The moment the door opened, a cluster of peach blossoms in full bloom unexpectedly caught Song Guanwen's sight. Then, the peach branches swayed slightly, revealing a smiling face that was brighter than the peach blossoms.

Lin Xi curled her eyes, and her bright eyes were filled with cunning ripples.

"It's been several months since we last met. Have you missed me?"

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The papers and documents mentioned are just random finds on the Internet, not professional, don't take them seriously

Well, if you don't allow me to write specific literature, I will delete it directly. What you want to read should be in the next chapter, cough cough