Madness ecstasy

Third, there was no experienced action director: the witch in the building was jumping around like crazy, pulled by wires, from beginning to end, and was not a cooperative subject at all.

Although those photos that are blurred and mysterious due to high-speed motion may be popular in magazines such as "Parapsychological Exploration", Doudou himself prefers clear depictions.

Doudou himself was too busy wrestling with the witch in the building to think about which postures could better show off the witch's skinny yet strangely shriveled body.

As for the chase with the section chief, Doudou didn't think about taking pictures:

The section chief's appearance is still far less impactful than that of her daughter; and I don't know if her "maternal love" can be captured with a camera.

Thinking in this direction, it would be even better if I could grow another head and act as a stage manager, coordinating everyone's division of labor and even clothing matching.

fourth

As he walked, Doudou counted to twenty-five in his head. If he really had to list them all one by one, he could still think of many more.

Of course, Doudou didn't just think about it casually. He carefully considered how to grow a few more limbs:

It is said that among those poor fellows who were abducted by aliens at midnight, some were transformed in the flying saucer, growing a few more arms or body organs; some even ended up hooking up with a superhuman alien species, and reaping a forbidden and abnormal love affair that was unacceptable to the ethics of the universe.

However, such anecdotes are very rare in "Parapsychological Explorations", and there are even no pictures to accompany them, they are just randomly piled up in the margins.

Mong Cai has even fewer UFO sightings—one or two at most. And those sightings are often of weather balloons, misinterpreted by weary citizens suffering from glaucoma.

Now that school has started, Doudou can no longer go to places where aliens are rampant and doing evil—such as Utah or Nevada in the United States, or even the Easter Islands in the South Pacific—to ask for a transformation surgery.

Of course, science is advancing by leaps and bounds, and technological inventions are emerging in an endless stream. Newer and more fashionable products appear every day: maybe one day you will be able to install a few more robotic arms and legs on your body.

With his head full of strange ideas, he yawned and walked into the alley in front of the school in a daze.

Before even entering the school gate, I saw the dean of studies digging his fingers into the students' hair, measuring the length. The duty committee member stood by, stopping students whose hairstyles looked a little off.

Seeing how they cooperated calmly, Doudou's thoughts returned to the starting point again -

In the final analysis, you should find some help!

Just like Robin to Batman, Sancho to Don Quixote, and Brother Haier to Brother Haier; if a person cannot have more hands and feet, then he cannot do all the work by himself.

An assistant, or maybe an assistant? It's always just Doudou, and he's really too busy.

If we want to be more sophisticated, we should probably set up a camera crew or something to help film these weird things we might encounter.

Although Doudou's hair was quite long, exceeding the school regulations, he was unaware of it and was still busy pondering these ideas.

Bang!

The crowd entering the school gate suddenly rushed against the dean of studies like waves, causing his belly, which hung over his belt and waistband, to shake a few times.

The dean was busy pinching students' hair with his fingers, like grabbing a bowling ball without finger holes.

But as he turned around following the crowd, he saw a new target; a bright yellow figure, particularly conspicuous:

"Hey! Stop right there, classmate! Which class are you from?"

But somehow, his voice became lower and lower; as if there was a little person hiding in his throat, slowly soothing his trembling vocal cords.

A circle quietly formed among the crowd entering the school gate; students pushing bicycles squeezed towards the corners, and their pedals were stuck on the legs of the students around them.

But no student seemed to notice this inconvenience, even though the school gate became as crowded as a temple fair - they still just continued to walk on their own, occasionally chatting.

In the middle of this circular space, the boy was pacing and mumbling to himself. It was a hot day, and he was wearing a yellow raincoat over his school uniform:

No matter how much the dean relaxed his standards, he couldn't let hair that hung so low it touched his neck pass.

It should be like this.

But—after the dean of studies had completely spit out the roar that had turned into a mosquito's murmur, he suddenly turned back and continued to catch the next bowling ball.

He didn't know why he did it, but he did it anyway.

By the time the school gate closed and the morning reading bell rang, the dean had completely forgotten about the matter.

Doudou didn't notice the little incident at the school gate at all - and he didn't realize that on the first day of school, he was almost caught by the dean and given a free haircut.

He walked across the playground, around a group of students trying to touch the basketball hoop, and walked into his class.

The classroom was filled with the smell of breakfast; soy milk, bread, and fried taro cakes, which tasted greasy.

I don't know who quietly opened the terminal on the podium, and the screen next to the blackboard played the answers to the summer homework:

Several students were holding food in their mouths and clenching pens in their hands; they were huddled in the back row of the classroom, their heads heaving as they copied their homework frantically.

I even stuffed a tape into the socket in the wall - this audio system was originally used for listening comprehension exercises - and played Zhang Yusheng's "My Future Is Not a Dream" to speed up the students' work.

[Hahaha! Cram at the last minute——]

Doudou folded his arms, chin tilted to the sky; he walked quickly across the classroom without even glancing at the monitor:

Normally, Doudou would be one of these diligent students.

But today is different.

Doudou proudly held the finished booklets in his hands and shook them gently, immersed in the envious gazes of his classmates in the back row.

When she watched a movie with Ai Xi two days ago, she brought him the answers to her summer homework that she bought at Xinhua Book City.

Chapter 97: Classmates Crawling Before Morning Reading

Sizzle, sizzle.

Doudou's teeth rubbed against each other in his mouth, and it sounded like sawing wood.

The doctor disappeared without even helping me with my math homework! Next time I see him, I'll make him write a thousand copies of "Super High School Exam Hero" and "Algebra King."

Doudou's seat is in the back row of the classroom, next to the window; it is moved once a month.

Ai Xi has arrived - this is rare.

There was a plastic foam box next to the table, with steam coming out of the exposed corner; it was filled with packaged breakfast, with only a few bags left.

Doudou threw the homework book on the table and moved closer to Ai Xi:

"Ha! You're here so early, right after school starts."

Unlike Doudou, his deskmate was often late; before, she would either come in halfway through the morning reading class or simply skip the entire class.

Because her grades were good, the teacher didn't say anything to her: I didn't expect her to be so abnormal on the first day of school.

On Ai Xi's desk lay a tattered stack of banknotes, mostly nickels and dimes. She was counting them carefully, pressing the counted notes with coins.

She raised her chin towards Doudou and said hello:

"Good morning; I have to make money today."

She gently kicked the foam box and used her head to signal the students behind her who were holding breakfast in their mouths and copying homework:

"Selling some breakfast. I guess everyone will be rushing to finish homework early at the start of school and won't have time to eat, so I bought some extra to sell."

"Didn't I buy the answers to my summer homework at the bookstore? I gave you the paper version, and the bonus floppy disk is a good place for everyone to take a look at—"

She gave a thumbs-up behind her; the back row of the classroom was still filled with the rustling of students copying homework. The students' eyes widened as they stared at the large display screen next to the blackboard, their heads bobbing:

"Business is pretty good anyway, so the answers are just a gift. I even play some music for them. That way they feel like their money's worth spending, and they don't complain about me taking advantage of them after they're full."

Doudou nodded vigorously, agreeing deeply—Ai Xi was indeed like that, his mind full of resource utilization and business opportunity exploration; he admired him very much:

"You're really smart. I can't think of such a thing."

After Ai Xi finished speaking, he took out another bag of hot food from the foam box and placed it on Doudou's table:

"Here, I still have some. Are you hungry, Doudou?"

Doudou picked up the plastic bag, which was damp from the steam; it contained a fried taro cake.

"Eh? It's the new taro shop."

The crust of the pastry is golden and wrapped in oil paper; it makes a crisp sound when rubbed: the oil paper is printed with an anthropomorphic cartoon pattern of taro, which looks neither cute nor interesting, but rather a bit weird.

This mascot, which bears a resemblance to Majin Buu, but is even more purple, embraces three large, round, colorful characters:

[Taro King]——

This is a new snack chain store that opened in front of the school: it only specializes in selling various taro snacks.

Taro paste, roasted taro slices, taro cakes, and fried taro cakes; the raw materials are all fresh Lipu taro shipped from the neighboring province, which is a main selling point.

Doudou bought some to eat when he passed by the provincial library during the summer vacation. The taste was acceptable; but he couldn't figure out what was so special about the Lipu taro.

Last semester, the homeroom teacher said at a class meeting that the snacks at the school gate might be spiked with opium in an attempt to make everyone addicted; he told the students not to buy these things and that it would be better to buy snacks in the cafeteria.

But the effect was minimal; before Doudou walked into the school, he saw people queuing in front of the store.

Ai Xi stood up and coughed twice:

"People often talk about this store. Especially the mascot. It's ugly, right? But there are some rumors. I'll ask around and tell you--"

She suddenly put her palm to her mouth and spoke loudly to the back row:

"Hey, have you finished copying the math?! Then I changed the answers to English."

Along with the scattered responses and the vague objections from more people holding food in their mouths:

"No! Not finished yet! I just finished copying the fill-in-the-blanks!"

"Don't be impatient, wait a moment and change!"

Ai Xi asked, but his feet started moving first.

She ran up to the podium, fiddled with the terminal, and changed the summer exam answers on the screen to English:

"Those of you who haven't finished copying the math papers should look for the ones you have copied! Hurry up, morning reading is almost here. If I get caught, you'll be in trouble too."

She rushed back to her seat complaining and squeezed past Doudou:

"Hurry up and get them to finish copying their homework. They're all so slow. If the homeroom teacher catches them, it would be a big loss if they use the money I earn to pay for class fees—"

Halfway through the squeeze, Ai Xi suddenly slammed the table:

"Ah! I almost forgot, there is still a job to do."

She bent down and took out a school uniform from her schoolbag, spread it out on the table, and began to paint carefully with the brush.

It's now the season between summer and autumn, but the sweltering heat will linger in Mong Cai until November. There are many different trends in school, some of which involve some modifications to the uniforms:

Some students took their school trousers to the tailor's shop and had the legs of their casual trousers narrowed so that they would fit tightly around their calves. Some students, after watching too much break dancing and disco shows, had the legs of their trousers cut into wide bell-bottoms.

But the school uniform for the upper body is the real big market.

The short-sleeved sports uniform with a collar is not popular. Even in the hot summer, students tend to wear a short-sleeved white shirt over their T-shirts.

Most of these white shirts have patterns painted on the collar, back and cuffs, or have strange words written on them.

At this age, temperature and comfort are often last on the list; wearing two shirts on a hot day and sweating all over is a detail among details.

Most of them use markers: because they are easy to fade due to sweat and need to be washed frequently, the shelf life of these modified school uniforms is not very long; those who lack graphic skills will hand this work over to students with more artistic talent.

Thus, a new profession has unknowingly emerged among the middle school students in Mong Cai City: school uniform alteration artist. The charging methods vary, from fried chicken sticks at the school gate to a small note for the midterm exam. Somehow, people sometimes prefer this primitive economic structure of barter.

Even students with beautiful handwriting are more popular than usual during this period.

Ai Xi is the leader in this small paid project and is also responsible for the blackboard newspaper at the back of the classroom:

Some students would even bring school uniforms from other schools and ask her to draw some patterns on them, or they would directly sell the finished products - private traders between schools also came into being.

-

Doudou lowered his head, a fried taro cake still in his mouth. He also slowed down the process of putting his textbooks into the drawer—his attention was drawn to the school uniform on Ai Xi's desk.

[It's still so hot, and you're already preparing for long-sleeved school uniforms? Really prepared.]

He didn't ask, so as not to disturb his deskmate's work:

Normally, classmates would find some gorgeous or cartoon-like designs from magazines for Ai Xi to copy, or they could let her design her own—the latter would cost more; Dou Dou felt like this was like tattooing the school uniform.

The patterns generally have one thing in common, which is the pursuit of beauty; therefore, the patterns are very specific.

But this one is obviously different; even for Doudou, it has a personality that is not usually seen:

From the collar of his shirt to the sleeves of his long sleeves, it was covered in lines and circles—branchs and arcs connecting perfect circles of varying sizes. It was like the mannequins in a traditional Chinese medicine clinic, with acupuncture points and meridians painted on their bare skin.

[It looks a bit like the costumes from Tron! Did a movie fan ask Ash to customize it?]

But lines and circles are not the only part of the pattern. Next to the larger circles, there are some Chinese characters that look like Chinese characters, but they are so strange that it is impossible to tell what they are.

Doudou squinted his eyes and pondered for a while before he realized what was going on:

These words are reversed, just like looking in a mirror.