Instant noodles are my fuel, code is my mother tongue, and the cold rotating "eye" in the laboratory is my most dangerous toy. Do they think I'm weird? Oh, mediocre perceptions are not worthy of my world.
Until that noisy little curly guy (Liu Minglong, yes, that's him), used his excess energy to wake me up from my immersion - the next second, I fucked myself into the white ward. When you open your eyes, you will see the iceberg face of senior brother Gu Pei. Peeling an apple is like deconstructing the laws of the universe. "Is the instant noodles soaked through the CPU?" The poisonous tongue was as precise as a scalpel, but the apple chunks stuffed into my mouth were exactly the same - this guy's mouth is made of poison-quenched ice, but his bones are like mountains.
Then, the nightmare came. There was a strange purple-red color rolling outside the window, and I watched Little Curly... Or in other words, an "empty shell" that looked exactly like him, falling from the sky. What the fingertips touch is not flesh and blood, but creepy nothingness! At the same time, the palm of my hand exploded with burning pain! Deep in the laboratory, that "eye" was emitting a bone-chilling scream, calling me!
Gu Pei's sarcasm was still in his ears, but Curly's last brisk "It's done!" Was a dead ringer. No time to grieve. The truth is hidden in cold logic and the hum of instruments. The decay of instant noodles? The harshness of code? Or... The fishy sweetness of metal? I smell the source code of this sweeping feast of destruction. Decode it, tear it apart—in my own way, Zhao Jinghong.
