Familiar ceiling.
Lin Chuan opened his eyes.
Judging by the sunlight streaming through the window, it was not yet noon.Therefore, between getting up to wash up and rolling over to catch a bit more sleep, he unhesitatingly chose to roll over and grab his phone from the bedside table.
——A phone is just a phone.
Lin Chuan familiarly logged into the Author backend, set yesterday’s prepared stockpile chapter to publish, and appended a sentence at the end:”Something came up today to celebrate a friend’s birthday, so there’s only one chapter.”
Then he waited for a moment until he saw dozens of columns of question marks flood the reader group, interspersed with some goading about being “short and weak,” as well as affectionate greetings like, “Is the Author sick?
Did you update so little because you’re uncomfortable?
Do you need help?
Where do you live?” Only then did he contentedly turn off his phone.
He got out of bed, went to the bathroom, stood before the mirror, turned on the faucet, splashed cold water on his face, pushed his ear-length hair back, picked up his water cup, and began washing up.While brushing his teeth, he recalled that extremely impactful long string of question marks from just now, feeling an inexplicable sense of delight from it.
Fortunately, it was 2018.
If it were the past, doing something like this would probably have gotten him doxxed long ago for an offline real-life PK, right?
Lin Chuan put down the water cup and looked at himself in the mirror: black hair and black eyes, with handsome facial features and face shape.
His hair was not particularly well-groomed, carrying a lazy temperament.
But in the past, he should have been a bit more ordinary.
At that time, he…
What did he look like again?
Lin Chuan was already close to forgetting his past appearance, along with those figures that seemed right before his eyes yet blurred in his memories, never quite coming into clear view.
After all, he had transmigrated to this world for five years.
It was just that he occasionally thought of them.
“Ha…”
Lin Chuan closed his eyes and let out a long breath.
He decided not to think about this matter anymore.
After all, today was the birthday of his only friend in so many years, so it was better to be happy.
“Ding-dong”
A brisk notification sound rang out timely.
Lin Chuan picked up his phone, and it happened to be the message he was hoping to see right now.
Looking at the message on the screen, a trace of a smile appeared on his face.
[Unregistered Celestial Master of Mount Longhu]: Are you there, great Author Lin?
[What Shall the Yearning Answer]: In this life of mine, I ask not of past lives, nor seek the afterlife.
I only live fiercely and passionately, avenging wrongs with joy, defeating all heroes of various races, and laughing proudly at the deities and demons of the six paths!
[Unregistered Celestial Master of Mount Longhu]:?
[What Shall the Yearning Answer]: Ten thousand years later, the great calamity begins anew.
Tathagata’s golden body, Yuanshi’s Dao body—which is stronger, which is weaker?
The Tathagata Palm, the Seven Formidable Techniques of Intercepting the Heavens—who leads the fashion?
[Unregistered Celestial Master of Mount Longhu]: Your new book?
Your previous book, Throne of Magical Arcana, isn’t finished yet, right?
[What Shall the Yearning Answer]: Amidst reincarnation, Zhou Mingrui began his journey of “dominating a lifetime, who can resist” starting from the Shaolin Temple!
[Unregistered Celestial Master of Mount Longhu]:???
[What Shall the Yearning Answer]: I plan to dual-write; the new book will use you as the protagonist.
How is that, am I a good bro?
[Unregistered Celestial Master of Mount Longhu]: It’s my turn this book?
Are you very happy acting mischievous?
[Unregistered Celestial Master of Mount Longhu]: Forget it, anyway, it’s good that you saw it.
Today is my birthday, remember to come on time.
[What Shall the Yearning Answer]: OK, definitely won’t forget.
What kind of relationship do we have, could I forget your birthday?
I’ll come find you tonight.
[Unregistered Celestial Master of Mount Longhu]: I’m afraid you’ll fall asleep again.
Wait, what do you mean by Shaolin Temple?
[What Shall the Yearning Answer]: The other party has gone offline, please redial later.
Lin Chuan saw the flashing characters of “The other party is typing…” on the screen, then immediately turned off his phone and put it into his pocket, his mood turning pleasant once again.
Alas, it seems Xiao Zhou has been dragged down by heavy work.
His typing speed is so slow, no longer possessing the glory of our dormitory’s four “Keyboard Kings” back in the day.
The time has come, he can be replaced!
Thinking of this, Lin Chuan’s thoughts drifted somewhat.
He recalled when he first reported to his university dorm five years ago, seeing his upper-bunk roommate shyly introduce himself to everyone: “Hello everyone, my name is Zhou Mingrui…”, and his shocked and dumbfounded appearance at that time.
At that time, he thought he hadn’t transmigrated to a parallel-space Earth to be a plagiarizing protagonist, but had instead come to the world of Lord of the Mysteries, and perhaps even an Old days Earth that could be destroyed at any moment due to the awakening of the Original Creator!
At that time, after hearing this explosive name, Lin Chuan even made a complete set of funeral arrangements and survival contingency plans:
Either piggyback on a luck enhancement ritual, or find relevant items to board Sefirah Castle, pull off a hanging-from-the-southeast-branch trick to smuggle oneself into later eras and wait for Klein to release the cocoon of light; or simply switch to a Russian major, go straight to Chernobyl after graduation, and see if he could gamble on a chance at survival.
If everyone’s Sefirah Castle “ticket” was a one-time thing, and he really couldn’t find a way out, he simply planned to take care of Zhou Mingrui’s parents after Zhou Mingrui was hung up like cured meat, and then leave a letter in his phone spoiling the future and informing them of his parents’ situation.
Although the original work didn’t mention it, Klein should try to pull a historical projection of his phone, right?
As long as he saw what I left behind, presumably the final ending could change for the better just a little bit.
Anyway, he couldn’t transmigrate this trip in vain; he had to leave something behind before leaving.
Mm, think of something good.
What if I can transmigrate back once I die?
Right, the document shouldn’t directly leave words like Lord of the Mysteries.
A Scholar of Yore is only Sequence 3; if Klein were killed by me, then human civilization would truly be in grave danger…
Lin Chuan’s wild imagination came to an abrupt halt at that moment.
He realized a problem:
“Why am I still not dead?”
Logically speaking, Lin Chuan knew so many honorific names of the Outer Deities in his mind.
Right now—no, should we say the moment he landed, he should have been contaminated?
After contamination, either he would explode on the spot, or he would survive the contamination and become an Great Old One’s blessed.
There was no second possibility.
Yet nothing happened to him at all.
In other words, there was still a turning point?
Calming down, Lin Chuan covered his twitching lips, politely declining Zhou Mingrui’s restrained concern of “Are you alright?
Your complexion seems a bit poor,” planning to carefully search for some information later before making a judgment.
Then the style of fate suddenly hit the emergency brakes.
Because he heard the names of the other roommates:
One had the surname Lu, but wasn’t named Lu Mingfei; his name was Lucien.
Another one with a two-character name was called Meng Qi.
That night, Lin Chuan with trembling hands opened the search engine and clicked into an internet medley that could only be described as a dance of demons:
The national football team created brilliance once again; China’s Sun never sets, defending the World Cup for the seventeenth consecutive championship.
Loyal fans expressed regarding this that if they keep winning like this, do (foreign teams) still want their faces?
Da Vinci was an oval-faced woman whose nickname was Lisa, leaving behind a world-renowned self-portrait.
Cao Xueqin exhausted his life’s blood, withstood the pressure, and finally finished the one hundred and eighth chapter of Dream of the Red Chamber, dying with a smile.
At the Pyeongchang Winter Olympics in February 2018, the unknown rookie Jotaro Kujo burst onto the scene and bravely won the gold medal.
Mr.
Satoru Takizawa officially announced the end of his voice acting career last year, having voiced many well-known anime and games.
…
What the hell are all these things?
Are they comical oddity bands?
Lin Chuan resignedly died with relief; he felt he had already understood everything.