The hospital at night gave people a sense of mystery. The ticking instruments were like the hammers in the hands of a blacksmith, repeating monotonously in a repetitive, mechanical rhythm. The lights in the ward were dimly lit, making the whole room extremely quiet.

After moving his body slightly, Ding Yan sighed comfortably.

Only then did he have some free time to calm down and sort out what had happened to him today.

I have to say, what happened today was so strange that Ding Yan even felt like he was still in a dream.

After turning his neck with difficulty, Ding Yan couldn't help but mutter, "It's already healed, why do you still need to wrap so many bandages..."

As if in response to his question, in the corner next to the bed, a soothing voice like flowing water flowed into Ding Yan's ears: "That's because your condition is rather strange. In order to avoid exposing your uniqueness, we have to take some small measures."

This voice...

Ding Yan looked in the direction of the sound, and groped around in the darkness with his eyes wide open.

Soon, he found someone who could answer his question.

The man who called himself "the prophet" was sitting beside Ding Yan's bed at this time, with a relaxed and casual attitude: "Good evening, I hope I didn't disturb your rest."

"No, I just woke up too," Ding Yan replied.

After saying this, Ding Yan couldn't help but stare at the prophet's hands.

He was not just staring at the back of the prophet's hands. Even though those hands were strangely white, that was not why Ding Yan cared.

What really concerned him was what the prophet was doing.

At this moment, the prophet held a scalpel from nowhere in his right hand, and was cutting a fist-sized apple sharply and quickly.

Because Ding Yan's family had doctors, he felt a little strange watching the Prophet's movements - the Prophet's knife skills were visibly poor. It seemed that he had never touched a scalpel before, and even the movements of holding the scalpel were full of mistakes.

However, even so, he still saw that the prophet's eyes were not on the apple, but were looking at him level, while his hands did not stop moving.

Just like what he saw this morning, the prophet seemed to know the best place to strike with the knife, and his movements were smooth and natural.

After thinking for a while, Ding Yan said, "Do you like apples very much?"

Perhaps it was because the atmosphere was created well enough, or perhaps it was because the impression the prophet left on him this morning was so profound that Ding Yan began to use honorifics in the quiet night.

Facing Ding Yan's question, the prophet smiled and said, "It's okay. I don't like it too much, but I don't hate it too much either."

"I just enjoy the process of cutting apples," the prophet said. "For me, it's a way to exercise my ability and focus my attention."

Then the prophet handed the apple to Ding Yan: "Here, have it."

He really doesn't seem to like apples.

Ding Yan thought as he chewed this apple which was not round at all but full of "artistic" atmosphere.

Watching Ding Yan swallow the apple bit by bit, the prophet folded his hands on his legs and said gently: "I guess you are probably confused about the current situation."

"Although you are passionate and enthusiastic about it, when the night is late and your passion has cooled, you will probably start to doubt whether your decision today is right or not."

The prophet raised his finger and tapped Ding Yan's shoulder gently: "For example, what will happen to me in the future if I become like this? Or, is this person in front of me using me?

"Although you may have agreed to save the world because of your desire for excellence and your sense of justice, I'm afraid you still have doubts in your heart."

In response to the prophet's words, Ding Yan just pursed his lips and said nothing.

Everything the prophet said before was right. Although his eyes were filled with the enthusiasm of "the times are calling" this morning, when he really calmed down, Ding Yan still felt a little worried.

Worrying about whether or not he could save the world, fearing the pain and danger he might encounter in saving the world, and even... beginning to doubt the essence of "saving the world."

This is undoubtedly human nature. After all, no one will give absolute trust to others, unless they are their parents.

Although the prophet seems very mysterious now and has abilities similar to "seeing through the future", Ding Yan still has certain concerns about this.

It was not a concern about the prophet's abilities, but a concern about his goals.

Faced with Ding Yan's silence, the prophet just smiled.

"What type of anime girl do you like best?" he suddenly said to Ding Yan.

Hmm? Ding Yan was stunned for a moment: "I like it..."

Um????

When Ding Yan reacted, he was dumbfounded.

What the hell is this?! One second they were talking about something as important as "saving the world", and the next second they were talking about the second dimension?!

Ding Yan once again felt that he could not keep up with the prophet's pace at all. Every time he chatted with him, it was like standing on a speeding train, with a whistling wind blowing towards him, and every word he spoke was... weird and touching.

"Relax," the prophet said, "it's just an 'anchor'."

"Just speak up boldly. There's no one else here. Even if your sexual fetish is not human, no one will look down on you."

The prophet paused for a moment and added, "Of course, our best advice is to establish a correct sexual object. What is a correct sexual object? It must be at least a..."

After coughing twice, Ding Yan quickly said, "White hair, I like white hair! Or to be more precise, white hair and black skin!"

As if throwing away all hope, Ding Yan said in self-abandonment, "It would be best if she was a white-haired, black-skinned athletic beauty, the kind whose shirt would be soaked with sweat after intense activity, highlighting her body curves, and the traces of mineral water running down her neck would be clearly visible!"

"Very good," the prophet nodded slightly, "Very correct."

As he said this, he withdrew his hand and looked at Ding Yan with a smile again: "Then, from now on, remember the girl you imagined firmly."

remember?

Ding Yan looked at the prophet blankly: "Why...?"

“Because it is necessary for tomorrow,” the Prophet replied.

"Guren's ability requires emotional manipulation, and the guy I need you to deal with tomorrow is able to invade your consciousness."

The prophet waved his slender fingers in the air and said calmly, "So I need you to create a false puppet image in your mind to serve as an 'anchor' for procrastination."

"Compared to real people, such as relatives and parents, virtual images can better stabilize your state of consciousness tomorrow. Tomorrow night, that guy will sneak into your consciousness, and the more impressed you are with the virtual image, the more real the projection of that image will be."

The prophet said slowly: "So, do your best to build the virtual image in your mind. This is what you will do all day tomorrow."

Ding Yan looked at the prophet and suddenly felt complicated.

What the prophet said to him was like a spoiler of the movie plot. Information that might have required the protagonist to dig hard to find was spoken out so casually by him, without any sense of satisfaction after a sudden turn of events or a mystery being solved.

If this is a suspenseful mystery work, it can be regarded as the worst plot arrangement. After all, there is no reasoning at all, and there is a bug-like character who knows everything from the beginning.

But this is the reality.

It is because of reality that Ding Yan feels so happy! What is the point of enjoying the game and realizing wisdom? If you can stop using your brain in the real world, it is best not to use it for the rest of your life!

It was at this time that Ding Yan first realized the meaning of the so-called "prophet" - is there anything more dependent than someone crushing the future into pieces and feeding it to you? !

Even if nothing else is considered, this ability alone is enough to attract countless people to surround him and feed on his ability!

And now, as a member of "Daytime", I can be arranged by the prophet like a baby and obey him perfectly...

It feels so good!

Ding Yan felt like he was taking a big bite of watermelon in the hot summer, and it was so comfortable that he didn't have to use his brain.

He watched the prophet stand up from his seat, glance in his direction, and said after a pause: "Black skin and white hair..."

The prophet was silent for a moment before he said, "Not bad. I think tomorrow will be interesting."

"Rest well, then," said the Prophet, "and do not forget what I have said."

"No matter what you think now, I think you will find some answers tomorrow."

After saying this, he wrapped his scarf around his pale neck and turned to leave.

Ding Yan watched him disappear into the darkness little by little, just as quietly as he had come.

Only then did he fall back on the bed and cover his eyes with his arms.

"Huh..." He let out a long sigh.

Outside the ward, the "prophet" Bai Ling was holding a handbag, and the indifferent expression on his face could not be suppressed for a while.

He rubbed his face and calmed his expression.

It was difficult to maintain the calmness just now, because he was not a particularly serious person, so Bai Ling was quite painful before.

Especially after hearing about Ding Yan's sexual preferences, Bai Ling almost couldn't hold back.

"'Red Lotus Walker'... So you like this type?"

"How interesting," he thought to himself, "in every way."

There is a sense of confusion as if a genius who can see the future is exposing his dark history at this moment.

As someone who knows part of the future, and who can see the immaturity of those future big names when they were young, what can I say?

This feeling is really fun, Bai Ling thought to himself.