Outside the door was a little old man who looked fifty or sixty years old.
With gray hair, a slightly messy gray-white beard, a high nose bridge, and deep facial features, he was not a standard nationality of Crana.
Malcolm had a bit of an impression of him who was the biochemical doctor Eugene he had met before.
For giving Spencer the book "Pathological Psychology," he contacted Jimmy and eventually found him.
Malcolm stared at him sternly, wondering why Spencer had that expression just now.
"Do yo have something to do here?"
Eugene scratched his head and recalled carefully, "You are Spencer's father, right?"
"Yes."
The tone was distant and polite, and Malcolm didn't make any extravagant expressions.
Eugene smiled slyly and looked a bit ironic, "It's rare to see you come to care about your child once, then I won't bother you."
He turned around.
"Stop."
Malcolm grabbed his wrist and forcibly lifted his hand. There was a book.
It was written, "How Paranoid Personality Becomes a Murderer".
Malcolm's heart tensed, only to think that the title of the book was terrifying.
With a cold face, he questioned Eugene, "You brought this kind of perverted book this time. Is it for my son? As a doctor in the laboratory, you don't teach people to be good, but you specifically guide a good child to a bad direction. What do you mean?"
Eugene just thought it was inexplicable, "Why is this book a bad book? It's just an esoteric book that teaches human nature. You're his father but you don't often accompany your son. I come to chat with him and explain books in my spare time. Is it wrong? You teach me what to do? It's strange."
Who in the end was strange?
Malcolm held back his anger, "He's only five years old, an innocent age. You teach him with this kind of book so early. Human nature? What's your motive?"
Eugene shook off his hand, feeling very unhappy, "Your own son, you don't know if he is innocent? He likes this kind of book, so I brought it to him. Has he turned bad? He is very smart. Since he matures earlier than the average child, I believe he has the ability to make independent judgments."
Malcolm didn't want to talk nonsense with him.
"Please don't show this kind of book to my son again in the future. If I find it again, I will consider reporting the situation to the Bureau. People with bad intentions should not stay in the laboratory. You should be suspended."
Eugene stopped talking, snorted coldly, and left with the book.
Malcolm watched him from the door. Until his back disappeared completely around the corner of the stairwell, he turned and walked back to the ward, closing the door.
His face didn't look good, and the atmosphere in the whole room was overwhelming.
Spencer sat on the bed. His head bowed sullenly, as if he knew he had made a mistake.
"I'm sorry, Daddy. I just lied..."
He turned his head, took a thin ruler from the bedside drawer and held it up with both hands to Malcolm.
"Daddy, punish me. I know it's wrong."
Malcolm looked at him and ignored him. Turning the palm of his hand, at the pinhole on the back of his left hand, the blood was drowning from the transparent infusion tube, and his heart ached instantly.
"Spencer ..."
Removing the ruler from his hand, Malcolm turned the back of his hand and rubbed his little wrist to help the infusion liquid return.
He pursed his mouth, not daring to look at Malcolm, "I still have to write with my right hand."
Spencer had been sick since childhood, growing up on a laboratory bed. Malcolm never bothered to punish him.
At this moment, seeing his pitiful request for punishment, his heart was even more softer.
"I don't want to punish you. I just hope that you can keep a distance from Eugene and reduce contacts in the future."
Spencer blinked, "But... I lied. amn't you angry?"
He shouldn't do so and Malcolm pinched his cheek with a little force.
"This time it's a small punishment, but my rule is that I only let it go this time. If you don't change and dare to lie again, I will definitely punish you severely, so you will never forget the pain in your life."
Spencer's face turned pale, and he felt a little scared.
"I know. I don't dare."
Malcolm helped him rub his little red face, and he was reluctant to say those words to him.
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