Weird! Weird! Weird!

Mo Fei was frantically exercising his fingers. It was something he did every day...

The mechanical keyboard clattered crisply beneath his hands. They said mechanical keyboards could lessen the vibrations from typing, but Mo Fei wasn't convinced. Every keystroke came with pain in his finger joints, yet that couldn't stop him.

As a "code monkey," this was his job. He had a lofty-sounding profession—"writer." To be precise, he was an "online novel writer." The prestige dropped countless levels the moment he said the full title, but he was satisfied with his life. At least he could support himself.

The keyboard continued clattering away while Mo Fei stared intently at the computer screen, completely unaware that smoke had begun to rise from the keyboard. With a crackle, everything fell silent. Mo Fei did not even know what had happened before he lost consciousness. His body pitched forward onto the desk, his hands dangling limply at his sides. Blue sparks flickered across the keyboard, followed by flames that slowly began to spread.

The next day, Mo Fei would naturally make the city's headlines, but that no longer had anything to do with him. Though he had managed to die with quite a bang, the fire burned for several hours!

Mo Fei felt as though he had taken a nap, yet his mind was perfectly clear. The temperature around him was neither hot nor cold. Huh? Why can't I feel anything? He was deeply puzzled. A "code monkey" like him spent every day either writing, gathering material, or looking for inspiration—in other words, reading other people's novels to see how they were written and whether he could use anything in his own work.

"Plagiarism?" How could writers call it plagiarism? It was merely following trends—or, more accurately, taking inspiration.

A full-time "writer" like Mo Fei spent at least twelve hours a day in front of a computer. Whenever he woke up, his whole body would inevitably ache, yet today he felt absolutely nothing. Could he not even feel the temperature in his home?

Mo Fei "opened his eyes" and froze. Everything around him was pitch-black, save for streaks of light flashing past at incredible speed. He tried to stand, only to discover in horror, Where are my hands and feet? He roared, but where had his mouth gone?

What's going on? What happened to me? After one nap, his hands, feet, and mouth were gone. Did he only have eyes left? Gripped by immense panic, he kept looking around. How can I still turn? Is this turning? What Mo Fei felt was too strange. He had no idea what state he was in, unable to distinguish up from down or left from right. Other than the fleeting streams of light, he could see nothing.

Suddenly, Mo Fei noticed a streak of light shooting straight toward him. He wanted to move, but he could not. He could only rotate, spinning in place or tracing circles. Even as a "writer," Mo Fei had no idea how to describe his current state.

The most fitting description was perhaps that he was a "ball"—a round ball suspended in the air, able to spin freely but unable to leave his current position. The streak of light had already arrived before him.

There was no sound, no pain, and no feeling of impact. Mo Fei merely felt somewhat "stuffed," after which a mass of information inexplicably flooded into his mind.

"Alice, the photos you sent are simply gorgeous. I'm completely captivated. Every five minutes, I have to take them out and look at them again. I'm beyond saving. A single network cable has bound us tightly together. I'm eagerly looking forward to our first meeting, and I hope that day comes soon. Love, Paul!" Mo Fei was dumbfounded. After being struck by that streak of light, such a message had appeared in his mind.

Damn it, what is this nonsense? I want my hands and legs back! Mo Fei roared in his mind. But this time, a miracle actually occurred. He saw his left hand—or rather, something that was supposed to be his left hand.

It was a "left arm" made up of tiny little blocks. Mo Fei felt like he was going crazy. What the hell was happening today? What was this thing? Yet he soon discovered that the arm really was his. He could control it freely, but no matter how he looked at it, it resembled something built from cheap Lego bricks.

Hmm? A streak of light hit me, then a message appeared. It sounded like an email, and it seemed to be in English. How do I know English? Then I wanted hands and legs, and a left arm and left hand appeared? Mo Fei finally managed to sort out a few clues. He slowly calmed down. Going insane would accomplish nothing. He might as well test whether what had just happened could happen again.

Mo Fei became immensely expectant. He waited for another streak of light to crash into him, but the wait was agonizingly long. He could not feel the passage of time at all and could only remain where he was, quietly watching everything around him.

Why are there so many streaks of light, but none of them are hitting me? Mo Fei waited in confusion. He had no idea how much time had passed. Perhaps it had only been a second, perhaps ten seconds, perhaps a minute or even an hour. Waiting was always painful, and Mo Fei suffered through that pain until, at last, another streak of light shot toward him.

It's finally here!!! Mo Fei stared excitedly at the streak of light. The next second, it collided with him, yet nothing happened again. That streak of light seemed to merge into his body. Mo Fei, however, faced a dilemma: should he ask for a hand or a leg?

After looking at his left hand, Mo Fei ultimately decided he wanted a right hand. The instant he made the decision, a right arm and hand indeed extended from him. He excitedly waved both hands, then realized that he had moved. That made him even more excited, though another message still appeared in his mind.

"Alice, why aren't you replying to me? Don't you want to meet me?" It was still that same Paul, with exactly the same tone, except this time there was no "Love, Paul" at the end.

Mo Fei began to think. Then it doesn't seem to be email, but it must be something related to the internet. Could it be instant messaging software? Mo Fei's mind was still sharp. At that moment, in a cheap, rundown apartment in Los Angeles, California, a fat man stared miserably at his computer screen. A chat window was open there, filled with quite a bit of text.

After thinking for a long time, Mo Fei decided not to worry about anything else for now. First, he needed to grow himself a pair of legs. Who cared whether they were made of Lego bricks? He needed to get a complete body first! He began "swimming" with all his strength. He was not quite sure how he was moving, but he had definitely moved earlier. So he used the standard arm movements for breaststroke, and sure enough, his body moved again.