The Chinese characters became refined, and I became their chief physician.
My name is Gu Changming, an ordinary restorer of ancient books, until a marriage certificate from the Republic of China oozed blood in front of me. Then the golden finger awakens - a "Civilized Diagnosis and Treatment Illustrated Book", which specializes in treating various "cultural spirits": the poems of the Yellow Crane Tower are depressed, the words of drowning in the Yangtze River gather together into strange things, and the library holds a debate meeting in the middle of the night.
My team has a wonderful style:
The iceberg academic master who uses mathematical formulas to lock monsters, and the dramatist who writes novels on the spot to summon Li Bai to fight. They quarrel with each other on a daily basis, but in wartime they combine poetry and swords, and they are so handsome that they fall apart.
But the world is falling apart:
People who "read books" only use their mobile phones, and people who "buy books" only use their phones to take photos. Concepts are disconnected from reality, and centuries of suppressed pain are taking shape, crawling out of the cracks to take revenge.
Some people want to euthanize civilization, and some want to format and reinstall it. And I, holding the ancestral inkstone, faced the ultimate torture: should I become a ruthless god and take over everything; or should I bear all the pain of civilization with my flesh and blood body, just to give it a chance to continue to hurt but also continue to live.
I choose the third way.
"Shhh - don't make any noise, I'm listening to Wenming shouting about pain, and I'm trying to figure out how to fix it."
