At night, the elves who had been tossing for a day fell asleep one after another, but π was still sitting in front of the computer.

There was silence outside, but occasionally a few wisps of fireworks and firecrackers floated, which sounded very far away.

π took off her nose glasses and rubbed her blood-filled eyes. She was very sleepy, but she couldn't sleep. It had not rested well in the past few days. When it lay down and closed its eyes, the ever-increasing collection and the words in Word would appear in front of her. She was both excited and frightened, and she was in a very complicated mood. She couldn't sleep. She was like a spring that became tighter and tighter. She didn't know when it would break.

It ended the chapter I just finished, moved my fingers a few times, and glanced at the time in the lower right corner of the computer screen - it could no longer remember how many times it was tonight.

It was almost midnight, and the message sent by the editor was to be charged after midnight. It was like waiting for the judge's verdict, waiting nervously for the arrival of that time.

In addition to looking at the time, one of the things it does most frequently is to refresh the author's background, and the number of collections is approaching the 50,000 mark. But it dares not click the mouse too frequently, and the crisp sound of the gala may disturb the sleep of other elves.

The charging chapters that were ready to be uploaded after midnight are ready, with a total of five chapters, which were driven out in the past few days. During the day, Zhang Zi'an had checked it several times, and it should be fine, but π was still repeatedly reviewing the manuscripts of these five chapters, thinking about whether the rhetorical method of a certain sentence is used correctly and whether it can be changed to a more appropriate expression.

Maybe at this time, you should hurry up and continue to write new chapters, but the closer it is to zero, the more confused it becomes, and you can't concentrate on writing.

After reading a chapter a few times, it felt that a certain paragraph and the next paragraph were separated from the plot. It would be best to add a sentence to make the plot more smoothly. So it put on its nose glasses again, put its finger on the keyboard, and gently typed a line of words. However, the lines were mixed with something that annoyed it, which was the long string of 3.1415926...

Since the last upgrade, it has rarely played this string of numbers, but on this crucial night, this string of inexplicable numbers reappears like a nightmare.

After it moves the cursor to the number, press the backspace key continuously, deletes the string of numbers, and clicks Save to prevent it from being lost.

Speaking of which, when it first started writing novels in Word, it made the mistake of exiting without saving. The manuscript of thousands of words turned out to nothing. It was so angry that it really wanted to stop writing. After Zhang Zian's repeated persuasion, it endured its anxiety and typed the thousands of words again.

In fact, the feeling of typing a few thousand words again is not as bad as imagined, and it doesn't take long, because the most time-consuming thing about writing novels is thinking about the plot rather than typing.

After the number is deleted, looking at the clean and tidy document, it smiles.

That's fine.

That's right, that's fine.

Zhang Zian doesn’t like the string of inexplicable numbers, readers don’t like it, and they don’t like it either, so let the string of numbers disappear. There is no meaning of existence and should not exist.

After deleting the string of numbers, its heart suddenly became empty in this quiet and cold night, as if it had lost something very important.

It stared at its palm with its head hanging down.

Why?

Why can’t I help but type out those inexplicable numbers? Like a real human, can’t I just hit what I want to hit?

It vaguely remembered that the first time it appeared in this world was in the big house filled with books. However, at that time it had no interest in books, and its eyes were firmly attracted by the computer on the table - to be precise, by the computer keyboard.

How attractive is the computer keyboard to it? It will involuntarily reach over and press the soft keys, and an extremely familiar touch is coming from the fingertips, as if it has done similar actions countless times.

At first there were only one or two people around, sitting in front of the computer, quickly typing on the keyboard with great pleasure.

It tried to wave his hand to their eyes, and they didn't respond, and they couldn't see it.

So it stood behind them and saw how they started the computer, how they entered the chat room, how they communicated with others... Then it found an idle computer in the corner and did the same.

It learns most things quite quickly, but like them, it can't imitate it.

Moreover, these humans are typing significantly differently from it - they mainly press the main keyboard area of ​​the keyboard, which is the number area of ​​the keyboard.

Compared to the main keyboard area with 26 English letters and 21 symbol keys, the number area is much simpler, with only 10 numeric keys plus 1 decimal key.

It vaguely recalled that it seemed to have similarities, many similarities, countless similarities, countless similarities who like to press the keyboard, and each similar person was typing with a keyboard. But these similar persons were like humans, who liked to press the main keyboard area or press randomly on the keyboard, rather than pressing the number area like it.

Among the same kind, it is undoubtedly an alien.

Why is it not those who appear in this world?

It didn't know, maybe it was wrong, after all...it looked around and saw that all the books were written in letters or square characters, and no book was written in numbers.

Although the same people are typing randomly, they can sometimes make some meaningful words and are ecstatic about it, as if they have done something amazing.

Regarding this, it is not qualified to accuse them because it is also typing randomly, just typing randomly in the number area. But numbers are numbers after all. No matter how they are typing, they cannot type any meaningful word. Even typing letters is an unrealistic luxury.

So, they should be more qualified to appear in this world than it.

If you imitate the same kind, it may also be able to type one or two meaningful words in the future one day, one or two meaningful short sentences in thousands of years, and one or two meaningful articles in billions of years...

In that space, time seemed to be still. It had a nearly infinite life span with countless similar people, as if it could be continued to work. They didn't know when they appeared in that space and why they appeared. Anyway, they kept typing since they appeared.

But is this meaningful?

Everything is just a "coincident". They don't understand what they are hitting, nor do they know what they want to hit.

What's even more sad is that it has been typing numbers all the time, and even the possibility of "coincidence" is zero.

Why does this appear in this bizarre world instead of countless other similar people?

It, like countless likes, does not know when they will appear in the space, but vaguely knows when they can leave - when they can produce a meaningful novel.

This is undoubtedly a fantasy. Even if you use time to build it, the chance of "accidentally" making a meaningful novel is almost zero, and it may not be successful until the end of the universe.

However, it succeeded, and it appeared in this world without any preparation.

According to previous habits, it pressed the number area of ​​the computer keyboard a few randomly and then typed a long list of numbers. The second digit from the beginning is the decimal point, and the total length of the number is 100. It actually doesn't know what the meaning of the series of numbers it typed is.

Obviously, people in the library didn't know that at that time, they thought that someone was playing tricks and deliberately making trouble with them.

It was quite joyful at first, but soon became restless because it found that it could only type out 100 digits, and the numbers behind it... seemed to have forgotten.

No, when it is in space, it can be fought unlimitedly, but why did it forget after coming to this world?

It's very confused.

It was both anxious and confused, and suddenly felt uncomfortable and weak in its body. It seemed as if it saw countless similar people staring at it jealously, as if saying: Why is it you?

Huge resentment comes from countless similar resentment collections, covering it across time and space, and pressing heavily on it.

Just as human beliefs can create elves and erase elves, countless resentments from similar types are like a black hole with powerful gravity, which can be sucked back to the original space at any time.

In the dark, it seemed to hear someone talking - not from humans, but some supreme existence.

"Find that book about life, the universe and everything, or you will return to your original space." - Who said in the dark? The sound is like a morning bell and evening drum, as if it can shock the entire universe.

It doesn't want to go back, and once it goes back, it will probably be torn to pieces by its kind full of resentment. Later it learned a sentence that can explain this mentality - it doesn't worry about lack of people but unevenness. Or everyone should be the denominator together, why do you become the numerator?

So it tried to ask the people around it for help and ask them to find the book, but they couldn't see it, heard it, and did not take it seriously, and it couldn't understand the words they typed.

Just when it was almost desperate, Zhang Zi'an appeared.

It will never forget the way Zhang Zi'an appeared in front of it with the nameless book. No matter how others look at it, it feels that it looks really handsome.

π's eyes moved away from his palm and fell on the nameless book placed next to his laptop.

It stretched out its fingers and gently fumbled into the hard cover of the nameless book.

On the scarlet cover, except for a circle of metal edges around it, there are no characters or patterns, bare and not very beautiful.

It had a similar idea for the first time - if there were any words or patterns on the cover.

At this moment, one hand, a human hand, held its hand.

It looked up and saw that Zhang Zian had stood behind it at some point and looked at it silently.
Chapter completed!