"The time of Paradise Lost is over."

The whispering man raised his head and drank the contents of the cup, and said with endless emotion,

"The era of the Senate has just begun."

Number One pushed the water glass out,

"Full!"

Sunday rolled his eyes and said disdainfully,

"Drink some honey water, and look at you."

Poured a glass of honey water, handed it to One, lay on the counter on Sunday, poked his head out and asked,

"One, you said Master, they really left? Flying out of this world in a light-speed spaceship, ——, a whoosh?"

"Or else?"

No. 1 took a sip of honey water, seven points sweet, just right.

"The master is gone, he's gone, and I'm sleeping soundly."

Sunday asked with a frown,

"I said you're not curious, Master, what will they encounter next?"

"Cut."

Number One scoffed,

"What is there to be curious about what happened to the impostor?"

The three words of impostor made Sunday's expression gradually become serious.

The master is also an impostor?

Sunday's seriousness lasted less than three seconds.

No. 1's next sentence made him almost pick up the ice bucket and smash it at the other party.

Number One said triumphantly,

"After all, I'm the real Luden, and you're all impostors!"

Sunday:......

It's you.

He took a piece of ice from the ice bucket, stuffed it into his mouth, and looked up at the starry sky on Sunday, and one of the twinkling stars was the ship that the master was on.

How can their story continue?

...

The blinding light robs the viewer of everything in view, plunging one into endless darkness.

Black.

It's dark.

It is not only the sight that is deprived of light, but also the sense of hearing, touch...

It seems that everything in the world has nothing to do with him at this moment, and the consciousness dives into the deep sea, quiet, dead and empty.

I don't know how long it took for this empty world to have sound and light again.

"Listen. See... Is it?"

"Bring the flashlight..."

"Tong Kong has a reaction, sir, can you hear me?"

Shaking his head, he tried to raise his hand to block the light in front of him, but found that he couldn't.

He was weak, and his limbs seemed to be bound by something, and he couldn't move.

He could only squint his eyes and adjust to the world in front of him little by little.

"Hello, sir, can you hear me?"

A man in a white coat put down the flashlight in his hand and tried to communicate with him.

His lips quirmed, as if he wanted to say something.

"Don't rush, take your time."

Under the guidance of the other party, he spoke with difficulty and said the first word.

"Thirsty..."

The face of the man in the white coat showed indescribable joy, and there was even the cheers of the crowd behind him!

As if he uttered one word, it was an unparalleled victory!

"I'm so thirsty..."

The white coat beckoned, and someone immediately brought a water cup.

The white coat explained while feeding him water,

"The electrolyte concentration in your body is at a normal level, feeling thirsty is just a psychological effect, take your time, don't rush..."

After drinking some water, he felt much better, and sure enough, as the white coat said, he was not really thirsty.

….

Recovering a lot, he opened his eyes wide and tried to shake his neck and look around, only to find that his neck was extremely stiff.

"Don't worry, your body is recovering, and in less than half an hour, you'll be back to normal..."

The white coat comforted him a few words, took out paper and pen, and wrote and drew in the notebook.

"Would you like to talk about it during the recovery period?"

He tilted his head back twice, nodding in agreement.

Obviously, the white coat also knew the meaning of this action, and did not ask anything.

"Based on the communication just now, there is no problem with the ability to receive and express information, so I would like to take the next step and see how much information I have now..."

[The problem of slow update of new chapters is in the can.]

If you buy this hospital, the cost of treatment will be a drop in the bucket for you."

Screenplay?

Firm?

Arthur felt his head start to hurt again, and his scalp was a little itchy, like something was growing wildly.

Arthur frowned, and a lot of cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

Noticing his anomaly, the white coat spoke,

"Although the treatment is successful, there will be some sequelae that we can alleviate through dialogue if you don't mind."

Arthur replied with difficulty,

"How... Relief..."

The white coat said decisively,

"If you have any questions, you can ask me, and I will definitely give you reasonable answers."

There was a categorical implication in his words, and he was clearly very confident.

Arthur let out a low roar, trying to vent his inner anguish and restlessness.

After yelling, he asked, "Why do I have... These memories—"

The white coat tries to guide Arthur and make his question more precise,

"What do these memories mean?"

Arthur blushed, "Luden... Memory..."

In memory, he was a master, a prophet, a tailor, a forgotten one....

The white coat was not surprised by this answer, and asked again, "Who are the memories you have the most?"

"Great.. Division.."

Arthur raised his head and roared again, and roared,

"Are you asking me or am I asking you!"

Since just now, this white coat has been doing a favor, and the more the white coat asks, the worse Arthur's headache becomes.

"I'll answer you now."

The white coat said quickly,

"You are Arthur Edward, the first screenwriter at Brave New World and the creator of Luden's script, and you developed a cognitive impairment in the process of trying to develop a follow-up script, and the symptoms were very mild and could be solved by taking medicine on time, and you refused all medical help and allowed the disease to progress.

Until your condition becomes more and more serious, and you can't distinguish between the script and reality, let alone your own life and the script, we take over your treatment when medical intervention is necessary, and all the treatment is carried out in the company of your guardian, and it is strictly implemented according to your medical plan."

Arthur tried to find a loophole in the other party's words, but to no avail.

It's just that, listening to the other party's words, Arthur's headache has indeed been relieved a lot.

Arthur stared at his lab coat like a hunter staring at his prey, and asked, "You mean everything about Ludon is fake?"

"There are falsehoods and truths."

The white coat explained,

"There really is a person like Luden in history, but only Qiyun has his official record, neither Shenbang nor Fog has Luden, they are just legendary characters you picked, and they are three in one, shaping them into new characters.

….

In fact, this is the message we've tried to pass on to you, and you've probably heard it when you're in the game."

Game?

Arthur's brows arched, and without waiting for him to ask, the white coat took the initiative to explain,

"Brave New World is a virtual game that can be simulated with 100% realism, and you are the gold medal writer of this game."

Arthur asked again, "What about the Master?"

If it's really just a confusion between reality and virtuality, why is most of his perspective from the perspective of a master?

There should always be an answer to this question.

"It's related to your creative method, as I said before, you use history to create, you use reality to create, everything is the raw material of your creation."

The white coat pointed to the chair,

"Because of the limited mobility, you spend most of your time in a wheelchair. You don't like to look at people in the right eye, holding a mirror in your hand and looking at the person behind you with the mirror, so you fantasize that your head is turned upside down.

.. These two are the caretakers who take care of you, and of course, you call them angels, fallen angels.

This is the night watchman of the cemetery, and in your fantasies, he is the headmaster.

Sabbath, mortuary..."

The lab coat introduced one person after another, overlapping with the impressions Arthur had in his mind.

Arthur opened his mouth coldly, interrupted the white coat, and asked,

"Where's Number One?"

And who is Number One?

The white coat was silent for a moment, and then spoke,

"He's your friend, born with an intellectual disability."

That makes sense...

The performance of No. 1 is indeed very reasonable.

The light in Arthur's eyes gradually dimmed, and he said to himself,

"So... Everything is fake ... The clone is fake... Ludon is a fake... That's right! Eternal! What about the Eternal?!"

Arthur seemed to have found the last straw, and looked at the white coat with hopeful eyes, wanting to hear the other party's explanation.

Everything that came before can be explained, but the Eternals are real!

This is ironclad evidence!

"As I said earlier, you like to use reality as inspiration..."

Behind the white coat walked out a young man, exactly like Arthur's impression of Awu.

"Awu Edward, your son, Elizabeth Yin, is your wife, and as for Al Yinsha, of course, I have no right to comment on your personal life, but Al Yinsha is your wife's own sister...

Ahem, to emphasize, no offense, your wife is in a cold war with you over this.

Before you became ill, you had been trying to persuade Ms. Elizabeth Yin and you to emigrate to countries where polygamy was allowed, and Ms. Elizabeth Yin preferred to emigrate to countries where it was not illegal to kill her husband..."

The white coat smiled and shrugged his shoulders,

"You wish the most important people in your life were Eternals, and in fact, you don't have any memories of the fourth, fifth Eternals, don't you?"

Listening to the other party's words, Arthur nodded slowly, discovering the problem in his memory.

He really didn't know who the fourth, fifth Eternals were.

Arthur asked another question,

"But Awu is the descendant of Ai Sheng..."

"If you're talking about the love of the Holy in the Qiyun era, according to the DNA comparison results, it's true."

….

The white coat smiled,

"But you, Arthur Edward, are also the descendants of the Saints, and you especially like to arrange your ancestors, don't you, because the descendants of the Saints will not sue you for the right of honor, and the descendants of other Saints may not."

Logic, once again, is successful and self-consistent.

The light in Arthur's eyes slowly dimmed, little by little, and he seemed to have accepted this fact.

They later asked questions a few more times, and Arthur gradually felt sleepy and fell into a deep sleep.

This night's sleep was extraordinarily sound.

The days that followed, monotonous and tedious.

Constant check-ups, constant questions and answers, all kinds of processes were orderly, but Arthur never saw the white-coat doctor again.

This day was the day Arthur was discharged from the hospital.

He was in a wheelchair, and Awu pushed the wheelchair to accompany him out of the hospital.

Neither Elizabeth nor Al showed up, and apparently, the relationship between the three was still stiff.

According to the doctor's diagnosis, Arthur has regained his ability to walk and does not need to use a wheelchair at all, but he still insists on doing so.

The wheelchair stopped in the hospital lobby, Awu leaned down and said,

"Dad, I'll go through the discharge procedures, you wait a minute."

Arthur nodded, "Okay."

He was in a wheelchair with mirrors mounted on both sides of the armrests, like rearview mirrors.

Ordinary wheelchairs, of course, will not be modified in this way.

Arthur insisted

This was requested, and since he was still recovering, the doctor advised him to comply with his condition.

Awu went to go through the formalities, while Arthur looked at the two mirrors and looked at the crowd of passers-by.

Soon, he saw a familiar figure in a mirror.

That's Dr. Whitecoat, the first doctor Arthur sees when he wakes up!

"Doctor!"

Arthur, who was in a wheelchair, shouted, but the other party didn't seem to hear it, and continued to walk deeper into the corridor.

"Doctor!"

Arthur shouted again, still unanswered.

He tried to push the wheelchair, but found it locked inexplicably.

Awu went to the hospital again, and Arthur was now on his own.

In desperation, Arthur stood up tremblingly with his hands on the handrails, then turned around, leaned against the wall with his hands, and moved forward a little bit.

He wanted to catch up with the white-coated doctor, and he still had a question he hadn't asked.

In the face of Arthur's call, the other party ignored it and walked all the way down the hallway.

Arthur walked faster and faster, faster and faster, and at last he didn't even need to hold on to the wall, he almost ran!

"Doctor! Doctor!"

Finally, before the doctor could enter the office, Arthur rushed behind the other party and called out to him.

"That..."

Arthur gasped and asked the question he wanted to ask,

"You haven't told me what your name is!"

"Me?"

The young doctor turned his head to look at Arthur, a smile on the corner of his mouth, and spat out an ordinary and ordinary name,

"Ludon Simpson Griffin."

Breeze thief