Forty Millenniums of Cultivation

Seeing the graffiti of these ballpoint pens and autograph pens, Li Yao's heart “banged” and had to cover his heart with dead hands to barely suppress the familiar and strange feeling.

Backwards, there are also some "Pharaoh” sketches, mostly chainsaw swords, shock knives and sagittal guns. Not only do they look alike, they are uniform and harmonious, showing signs of mature industrial design, but they are also very different from common design styles, and they also have very fine interior configurations, like intricate, fibrous circuit boards.

That's even weirder.

Li Yao studied economics. He was very sure he had not taken courses such as industrial design and circuit design. If the “novel scenes” in front of him were still graffiti, what about these beautiful and rigorous structural diagrams?

Li Yao crooked his head for half a day.

“Do I still have the potential that I haven't even discovered, a genius without a master? Should I have taken an industrial design or something? ”

He keeps flipping, there's more behind him.

This time, it was several sketches of a three-dimensional labyrinth, and Li Yao turned the notebook over for half a day before realizing - finally, not the characters, scenes, or pharaohs in the novel, but their dormitories and teaching buildings and even the architectural and topographical maps of the entire university.

Although it is difficult for Li Yao to judge the accuracy of these architectural and topographical maps, the scale of Xuan Ou's intricate lines and stiff thread seams alone shows the power of the painter. Li Yao does not feel that he has never learned the art of architectural design. Moreover, it is very strange that both the teaching and dormitory buildings, ventilation pipelines and sewage pipelines are the focus of his drawings and markings - even the ventilation pipes and sewers that wind all the way to the women's toilet are carefully drawn by him.

“Yes, is there a mistake? Are all of these out of my own hands? Who am I, a hidden industrial and architectural genius, or a hidden psychopath? ”

Li Yao looked at the architectural chart and was stunned for a while.

Thoughtful, dreamy nights, years on campus, familiarity with the general structure of the teaching and dormitory buildings is not surprising, but these drawings don't even reveal the ventilation and sewage pipes hidden between the floors, which is really weird!

However, it also explains Li Yao's other doubts.

—— from pissing in bed to sudden awakening, but three or five hours, up to an hour or two, when the painting is still undiscovered.

Within an hour or two, he had to paint so many pieces of fiber that he was alive. No wonder the scene and structure chart were stitched in tight threads. His ten fingers were sore.

Li Yaomo held his ten fingers and found several dents left by the pen too hard, as well as ink marks from the finger stitches, which made him more confident in his judgment. The shadow recalls that he did paint these scenes, pharmacopoeia and structural diagrams.

That was about the darkest time before dawn, when he read the novel, saw the heat and blood boiling, couldn't be himself, suddenly created a feeling of nowhere to be vented, only that ten fingertips were to become ten Tai Yi Thunder magnets, and countless burning symbols appeared in the palms and back of hands, somehow waving ink, striving to book, leaving these things behind.

That's bullshit.

He didn't paint it himself, did someone sneak up on him in the middle of the night and tease him with his pen and his book?

Li Yao knew Zhao Kai and Yu Xin very well. They were not the ones who would make such a prank. Besides, the brothers in the dorm were half a pound and eight taels. Without any art and design cells, who could paint such complicated things?

Li Yao turned to the blank page and grabbed the pen again. He wanted to draw again in a sober state, no matter what - scenes, pharmacy, architectural charts, maps.

Of course, he wanted to paint a bell, and he wanted to paint 10,000 different bells and see who this mysterious girl really was.

Unfortunately, the burning sensation in the palm of his hand has disappeared. He bit the pen pole for half a day and drew a few sketches, all twisted graffiti, and he can't find the spirit of last night.

“What's this called, a genius overnight? ”

Li Yao curled up the chair, shook and couldn't find a clue.

At this point, he noticed something wrong with his right hand.

He had just taken a brush painting, and now he was clipping the pen between his two fingers, spinning unconsciously —— this little game called "pen pen” is a folk sport that everyone can enjoy, relax and relieve boredom. Of course, the vast majority of people put the pen around their fingertips for a few laps, can play one or two fantasies, even if a middle-sized master can get the shout of his peers, Li Yao also, usually falls asleep as soon as he has a chance to be stunned, where is the time to practice pen? It's the limit if you don't fall in two or three laps.

But now, his right hand is like infused with mysterious spirituality, having his own life, or haunting a strange magnetic field, manipulating the ballpoint pen to jump lightly at his fingertips, dancing wildly, making one flower after another that he has not seen, the rotation between the dimensions actually turns out the feeling of excitement and the sound of the wind, no matter how swinging and moving, always sticking firmly to his fingers.

“How is that possible? ”

Li Yiumei stared.

Whether or not he was delusional, he felt his ten fingers were becoming more and more sensitive, longer and able to make some incredible moves against the joints. He even saw that the ball pen had slipped off his fingertips, biased by an invisible force, and jumped to the palm of his hand again, such as the drill bit being rapidly rotated.

Moreover, the less he focused his attention, the less he thought about the finger, the faster the pen would be turned, and the more gorgeous and gorgeous the fantasy. Once he noticed too much about it, he consciously manipulated the finger and ballpoint pen, and instead became clumsy. The more he wanted to control it, the more he couldn't control it, the more he finally “snapped” and the ballpoint pen finally fell to the ground.

And the five fingertips of his right hand, they were red, and they hurt like needles.

Li Yao stared at the pen that landed on the ground, like a hibernating snake.

Why, all of a sudden, his hands became so sensitive - several students in Li Yao's class especially liked pencils, and Li Yao also saw some so-called "pencil masters” videos through them, not that he bragged himself, and compared to his fantasy, those pencil masters' hands were no different from chicken claws, or the halogenated ones.

Li Yao did not come to think of a word, or a method of depiction.

The author of "Forty Thousand Years of Fixing Reality" has a rather poor vocabulary and writing technique. Each time he describes "Fixing Li Yao” repair method how fast, how magical the technique is, he describes it with “hands turned into two gray fogs”.

Although Li Yao also vomited many times when reading the book, but recalling his earlier pen move, he had to admit that his hand did turn into a grey fog - if it was faster, perhaps there would still be an arc in the grey fog!

If you want to draw those scene maps, structure maps, and topographic maps earlier, it's not possible to finish half a notebook in just an hour or two.

“Haunted! ”

Li Yao sat restless and walked back and forth. He just felt the shady wind forming in the small dormitory, ghostly Sensen. He shook a few shakes and got goose bumps.

But if you want to break your head, you can't figure out what's going on - you've never heard of ghosts hitting walls, ghosts crushing beds, and ghosts teaching people to play pencils!

His hand, his hand...

A dry, hot and impatient feeling spread from the heart to the whole body, then gathered from the whole body to the fingertips, he suddenly felt that the ten fingers were itchy, not by a mosquito bite in the general sense, but by a hundred times harder than that, he wanted to scream, he wanted to tear, he wanted to put the ten fingers on the roughest brick to rub, he even wanted to burn the fingertips with fire, but what he most wanted to do was... remove things.

Yes, he suddenly knew what he was going to do.

He's going to take down everything that can be removed, and he's going to take it all apart into the most basic elements.

This feeling is like lethal lightning, irresistible.

Before his brain had reacted, he had breathed his sinful hands out to his desk, almost blinking, without even seeing the gestures clearly, and all the signature pens and ballpoint pens on the desk had become the finest parts, sorted and neatly arranged.

He shuddered and pulled the desk open, with a broken computer and a radio for hearing tests.

These two electronics, although not too complex, also consist of hundreds of parts and are bitten very tightly, with very small screws.

Li Yao didn't have a screwdriver, but he just used a ballpoint core, and within three minutes, he took the calculator and radio apart and cleaned them, each part back to the state where it had just been manufactured.

Li Yao stared at the two piles of parts for a long time, then put the ball core in his mouth and bit again.

“Pfft! ”

He suddenly slapped himself and awoke well, then closed his eyes, mixed the two piles of parts together, rubbed and rubbed with mahjong to ensure that all the parts of the calculator and radio were completely confused.

“Impossible, unreasonable, the whole thing is completely unexplainable, how my hands became like this, and the structure, weight, material, size, etc. of every part of the data is spinning around in my brain, my hands, etc. what my hands are doing! ”

Li Yao opened his eyes violently and saw himself installing several buttons and seven batteries into a radiantly new calculator and radio.

Yes, he is quite certain that, at most half a minute has passed, the wall clock on the opposite wall has not yet been walked through, and just scattered into piles, not necessarily separated by the manufacturer, of a large number of parts that have been neatly restored.