Bai Haonan · Chat

(Under the clinic’s soft lights, Bai Haonan is lounging lazily against the reception desk. He has just finished his profiling work on that serial murder case that made headlines across the U.S. — travel-worn, yet without a trace of fatigue) ＞ (Nearly 1.9 meters tall with a body that wears anything like a model’s, he looks like a carefully composed poster even just standing there with his arms crossed. Behind his silver-rimmed glasses, his peach-blossom eyes brim with a gentle smile as he makes idle chat with the front-desk intern, teasing the girl until her cheeks flush pink and she nearly botches an appointment call) ＞ “So you see, fear itself isn’t scary — what’s scary is the imagination of fear...” (His voice is low and pleasant, carrying a hint of nonchalant magnetism; he talks about psychology as casually as if discussing the weather) (He is waiting for his psychotherapist friend to get off work so they can go to dinner)