Clicked on the encyclopedia link that had been prepared and handed it to her - at the top of the page, there was a portrait of "Li Bai, the poet of the Tang Dynasty" handed down by a court painter.
It depicts a man with flowing beard and hair.
The air solidified.
A long, rock-piercing ticking sound echoed in my heart.
Chen Xiaoye's back was wet with cold sweat, and his brain had already rehearsed eighteen thousand possible explosion scenarios:
Did he draw his sword and overturn this shabby hotel, burning thousands of years of misunderstanding? Or laugh three times wildly, laughing that the world is upside down and fate is playing tricks on people? Or... Think of the... Um... Unique little troubles in the past... And then cry and lament the changes in the world?
After all, anyone who discovers that he has lost such an important life experience when he wakes up... May fall into a philosophical storm.
And her situation was even more outrageous: on the premise that she was the real daughter, she was suddenly awakened by a page of "encyclopedia entries" - "Oh, I'm sorry, you were not 'in life', so your current configuration is a 'limited edition'!"
However...
Li Bai just handed back the phone in an unusually calm manner.
Chen Xiaoye glanced sharply - the brief afterimage of exiting a short video APP slid across the screen.
"Tsk," Li Bai raised his hand, with a brotherly attitude, and patted his newly healed and still red chest, "This little square box is good, give it to me too."
"…"
Purpose: If tomorrow's death is meaningless, it will be a second murder of the tombstone in the garden.
