As the reborn man's brushstrokes flowing in the notebook, words emerge one after another, those vivid depictions, the grasp of characters that point directly to the hearts of people, immersive scene writing, and small details of different groups of people in different countries and different countries gradually form one excellent literary work after another that reveals the tip of the iceberg.

Most people do not have a good appreciation ability, but this does not prevent them from comparing the things that Yang Yi wrote with the words he once saw in life. Unless they are really not interested in books, they always have the experience of reading. Moreover, this is a famous middle school in the United States, with a very small number of students and some teachers who come to the scene, but they can tell what kind of magic Yang Yi’s words possess.

The girl behind her did not stop reading aloud. If the second broadcast female host at Princeton-San Francisco was at the usual broadcast speed, she could not even keep up with Yang Yi's writing. Often, she had just finished reading the above sentence, and Yang Yi had already written the next sentence or even the next sentence.

This amazing move of writing to keep oral reading far behind makes the girl reluctantly concentrate and focus on what she is about to read, and there is still an almost unconcealable unbelievable situation after she has barely focused on the content she is about to read.

Perhaps she has seen many people writing. The classmates around her have both those who have a headache to accurately describe a person's homework, and some characters who can write like gods. However, those who are just high school students' homework questions can read smoothly. They are qualified standards and can be outstanding in writing. They are already very talented in writing. As for the Chinese boy in front of her, they use those extremely ordinary words to combine them into unusual sentences, and then form amazing passages. This girl named Ella has never seen her before.

Writing is not about moving goods on the port terminal, and it is covered with the ground casually, and I am worried that I will not be able to complete the work at night. However, I am now reading the articles in the notebook in front of me, which are clearly works of different subjects. But these works are connected from beginning to end and there is no sign of interruption. From the boy in front of me, they appear in this world in a steady stream. It seems that the other party is not writing, but has already remembered the content in his brain, and now he writes it down according to the script.

At this moment, Ella couldn't help but hallucinate, as if she was sitting in front of her writing. She was not a living person with flesh and blood, but a typing machine with pre-set programs. And the words continued to gush out like a sewer pipe that had been disrepaired for a long time. The blonde girl from the foreign country did not notice that her chanting completely lost the ups and downs of usual broadcasts, but was like Yang Yi's mechanical writing. The tone had no ups and downs, and it became mechanical.

As for the audience, there were still too far away from Yang Yi, so they could not see more boys writing speed. Their spirit was barely placed on the words and paragraphs that popped up from the girl Ella's mouth, from the snow forests and wilderness in North America, to the seaside military academy in South America, from the Mu* private forest town in the Mediterranean to the concentration camp in the Far East of Russia. The stories from the forties, the stories from the fifties, the stories from the sixties... just appeared vividly before them. No, they should have been born in the pen of the boy on the rostrum, and then drilled into their ears.

There were no other sounds at the scene. People with better hearing could even hear the pen tips in Yang Yi's hand and the rustling sounds made when they were rubbed against the paper. Occasionally, a faint shouting or laughing came from other venues on campus, or the sound of car horns outside the campus, which made the event venue at this moment seem as if it was unreal in a dream, as if it was beginning to separate from the real world outside and exist independently in a space.

But what people don't know is that on this quiet venue, the foreign boy on the rostrum was behind him, the figures of countless literary predecessors - Mario Vargas Llosa, Herta Miller, Orhan Pamuk, Elfried Jelinek, Günter Glass... This is the literary master with the most sensitive heart and the most sensitive brushstrokes in this world, the serious old man, the restrained middle-aged man

, a thin man with a burning divine light in his eyes, a sensitive female writer with gray pupils and flax hair, wrote quickly in her room, walked on the Mediterranean coast, recalled her career in the concentration camp thirty years ago in her current beautiful residence, observed everything in front of her in the night of the city... And countless literati and countless carefully condensed words gathered on Yang Yi at this moment.

This is everything that the boy on the rostrum had. He did not belong to him in his previous life, but now he appeared in a high school campus in Citigroup, entered the ears of the audience, and perhaps even imprinted in their thoughts. Yang Yi had no psychological burden on his ideology to those foreign writers in his previous life, and even felt that his current approach was very appropriate.

Just as some of the people around him treated him before, if they were not residents of this country, they would never get the treatment of prejudice. Since there is still a division of national boundaries in this world and conflicts with each other, he will take over the things from foreigners now. What's the big deal?

Until this time, Yang Yi did not stop, but instead acted as if he was sore and numbing his arms while he was moving, and then continued to write. He seemed to have not realized the silence of the entire event venue. The audience's eyes gradually changed from the initial surprise and surprise to countless mixed expressions that could not be described in words. It seemed that the young man in front of him was a saint who had great power and walked in the mortal world, or the little demon who was very good at writing in Finnish mythology, using a magical black quill pen that gathered from various worldly **s, to show his abilities that were not in the world.

Yang Yi did not notice the situation around him. Because he had to think hard about recalling those books, he had to sift through it. What kind of words could appear in Citi Country and what kind of words were taboos in this country. Although this country, from the media to the individual, all boasted about freedom of speech, in fact, there are things that are not allowed to be touched. Therefore, Yang Yi could not have pulled out all the good articles. Some literary works recognized by the Nobel Prize several years later may not be so popular in this country in terms of the current world political landscape.

Therefore, Yang Yi did not actually devote all his thoughts to the content of future award-winning books in conferences, but instead devoted a considerable amount of energy to temporary "review". If the audience in the audience knew that he was actually using it in one's heart, then he would not know how surprised he would be.

After the excerpts of the most complex and touching paragraphs of human nature, Yang Yi paused for a moment. But this time may be six seconds, or more, seven seconds. Then, after waiting for the girl behind him to finish reading, he continued to turn over a new page and then started his last "writing".

"I am sure I am dreaming at 99:9%..."

The reason I am so sure is: First, I am standing in a bright sunshine—the dazzling. The bright sun has never shone on the town of Fox, Washington, my new home, which is shrouded in smoke and mist for years; Second, I am watching Grandma Mary, who has been dead for more than six years, so this conclusive evidence is enough to prove that I am dreaming…”

"Grandma has not changed much, her face is still what I remember..."

This time, the sensation caused a little bigger. Many readers who read the first work of "Twilight" many times and have been looking forward to the follow-up of the article, especially those middle school students who were fascinated by this work, immediately widened their eyes and began to listen carefully to distinguish. When they heard the heroine's name, they finally couldn't help but become excited, but then they also became more attentive.

"This person is Edward, of course. Although I always get excited when I see him—consciously or unintentionally—even if I am almost certainly dreaming, I still feel panic when Edward walks towards us through the dazzling sunshine. I panic because grandma doesn't know that I'm in love with a vampire—no one knows this..."

"Hi, it's "Twilight", it's it! Is the second part written and it's about to be released? Oh my God, I can't wait to see what's going on waiting for Bella next." A girl looked at the rostrum with surprise, her eyes full of eagerness.

Another companion who was just grabbed by her took a deep breath and suggested to her: "How about we go and ask that handsome guy, if the second part of "Twilight" has been written? Maybe you can ask him out for a cup of coffee and listen to him talk about things in that ancient country?"

"What a good idea." The girl in front couldn't help but feel excited, but then looked at the other party with a weird look: "But there is only one genius boy, but we are two of us. Have you thought about how to distribute it?"

The people present may not have expressed excitement and excitement, and some people are unable to curb their inner anxiety and annoyance. They stared at the boy on the rostrum. If he had a rifle in his hand and no one else was around, he might really want to create a "campus shooting", but it is obvious that this beautiful wish can only be thought of in his mind. The reporter who stood up to attack might not be ugly, but it is also a thousand miles apart from "good-looking". Although Yang Yi did not confront the "original author" he mentioned, just what the girl behind him had already written and read to everyone was enough to prove that this boy was really a genius in writing.
Chapter completed!