AI copywriting?All copied wrong!

Tang Ping stood up:

"You drink slowly, I'll go out and get some fresh air."

He walked out of the dinner.

The cool evening breeze ruffled the hem of his clothes.

With a hint of heat that has not faded away, and a warning of the approaching night.

"I don't really like it."

Tang Ping said to himself.

Before coming here, I thought it would be a pleasant team-building trip.

Only after I came did I realize that since it was a team building event, I would inevitably have to deal with people I didn’t know well.

This process of dealing with people is not very pleasant.

after all.

Who likes to play with strangers when traveling?

"I don't like it very much either."

A male voice came from behind. The electronic otaku walked to the side, found a step and sat down, took out his mobile phone and continued playing games:

"Amusement parks and game arcades are more suitable for people like me."

"Speaking of which, you didn't drink either?" Tang Ping looked him over.

"Wine doesn't taste good. The only thing that tastes good is that it tastes very bad."

The electronic otaku said without raising his head:

"Grape juice tastes better."

"Indeed." Tang Ping nodded in agreement.

He also took out his mobile phone, preparing to sit down on a staircase that was pleasing to the eye, and browse through Tieba forums and other social platforms.

Suddenly I felt the hem of my clothes being pulled a few times by someone.

Turning his head to look, Lin Nan, who had his head buried deeply, came quietly behind him and carefully tugged at the hem of his clothes.

I noticed that his body was turning, as if it was squeezed out of his throat, and he spat out a few words that sounded like mosquitoes:

"bathroom."

"Huh?" Tang Ping thought for several seconds before realizing that the autistic girl was talking about the toilet.

"You want to go to the toilet?"

Lin Nan nodded slightly.

She didn't know where the toilet was.

Tang Ping moved his eyes and looked at Yan Yao, who was supposed to be clinging to this autistic girl.

……Um.Yan Yao was drinking beer one cup at a time.

It's hard to tell that the Lolita girl, who is obviously an elegant lady, has such strong drinking power.

Even the boys were knocked down several times, but she still remained standing.

Although this has something to do with the fact that every boy drinks with her, the boy drinks a few drinks and she drinks one.

Busy drinking, too drunk to talk to Lin Nan?

No, it shouldn't be.

Most likely, this autistic girl saw Yan Yao drinking so happily with a group of people and didn't have the guts to pull Yan Yao out of the hot atmosphere of the wine table, so she had to bite the bullet and find herself, whom she was relatively familiar with.

"Wait a minute, I'll ask."

Tang Ping quickly found an uncle.

Returns after a few seconds:

"Come on, I'll take you there."

Lin Nan said "hmm" carefully and followed Tang Ping away.

On the steps, the electronic otaku glanced up.

He curled his lips: "Ha."

Tang Ping was worried about several situations.

Including but not limited to, Lin Nan cannot use the squat toilet, Lin Nan is not used to the simple toilet environment, Lin Nan is the kind of girl who will definitely ask her close friends to go to the toilet together, otherwise she will not be able to get out...

Fortunately, none of this happened.

He even deliberately didn't wait outside the toilet door, but stayed some distance away and stood behind the corner of the corridor.

Lin Nan didn't feel at a loss because he didn't see anyone familiar after going out. He went back along the way he came and was startled when he saw him around the corner.

This gradually gave Tang Ping a correct understanding of Lin Nan:

This autistic girl is just autistic, not a silly girl who can't live a normal life once she's alone outside.

Also, there are not so many losers in society. The kind of naturally stupid girl with blond hair and red eyes who can strip naked at home and paint, and can do nothing but paint, only exists in the fantasy of light novels.

"My cognition was poisoned by neon gold. I suspect this is part of their cognitive war."

"Ah? What did you say?" The electronic otaku who was busy playing games pulled open half of his headphones, "Why is she following you?"

"Like us, you may not be used to the lively atmosphere there." Tang Ping said.

Now there are three people sitting in a row on the steps.

The electronic otaku on the far right, Tang Ping in the middle, and Lin Nan on the far left.

Electronic otakus are the least particular, they just sit down straight away.Tang Ping simply wiped the dust.

As for Lin Nan, he carefully took out a towel and put it under his buttocks.

Tang Ping held a piece of dogtail grass he had just picked up from the roadside and looked up at the sunset setting on the top of the mountain.

A circle as red as fire, with thousands of rays of light scattered on it.

"The sky in the mountains is so clean."

He said:

"The sky is so blue, the clouds are so white, ah, this light, this water."

Electronic Otaku: "If you write stories like this, then I really admire you."

"To be honest, I can't write stories."

"Oh, I don't believe it."

"If it wasn't me who couldn't write stories, I wouldn't believe it, but the reality is that I have to believe it."

Tang Ping said quietly:

"I can't control my pen or the plot I want to write."

"It is free, has its own thoughts, and has its own personality."

"Defeat (defeat)" The electronic otaku looked at a game being beaten to death, took off his headphones, and looked at Tang Ping.

Full of resentment:

"I understand that you want to be ordinary, but do you really want to be ordinary in front of me?"

"What virtues and abilities do I have? I'm just a rubbish author who can't even write fairy tales well. I don't even deserve to call myself a writer. Fortunately, I just can't write well, not that I write poorly. Otherwise, I would have to call myself a fairy tale writer. I can't even call myself a writer. I dare not call myself that.”

"You will never get a sense of accomplishment from me. Will an elephant care that an ant is frightened by it?"

Tang Ping opened his mouth.

He really wanted to say that he really didn't have anything to do with Versailles, and that every word he said was true.

He really can't control AI!

Anyone who could control it would have long since become the supreme writer-emperor.

But in the ears of other writers, this is Versailles.

Not only Versailles, but a very high-end Versailles.

The electronic otaku sighed deeply like Mrs. Xianglin:

"For a person like me, I probably won't have such troubles as you if I write for a few more years."

"What you write is a story that comes to life, with characters that are alive and can run, jump, and think for themselves. You can be a bystander and narrator, and convey their vivid beauty to the readers."

"But I'm different. I can only write a completely dead story, stiff and stiff like a rigor mortis zombie."

"I scratch my scalp and bite my nails every day. I wish I could shoot my head and let my brains burst out with inspiration, and then splash them on the manuscript paper to create a masterpiece with my life."

"But the reality is that I scratched my scalp and chewed my nails, and I shot myself in the head. What came out was not brains, but brain shit."

"I listen to your complaint of 'I can't write', like a beggar who is about to freeze to death on the street in winter. I see a rich man shaking his whiskey with ice cubes in a mansion with bright lights and heating. 'It's so hot, the heating bill is too expensive, I'm going to die of poverty.'"

"Can you understand this feeling?"

Chapter 175 Fairy Tale Appreciation Session ([-] words·[-]th update)

Tang Ping: "..."

He was silent for a moment.

said in a low voice:

"Bros."

"I didn't say that."

"It's not as if you can't write stories with your literary skills."

It's so vivid as soon as you open your mouth. Do you call this "I'm a bad writer"?

The electronic otaku said in a low tone:

"It's just improvisation."

"Maybe I just opened my mouth now, and it sounds pretty good at first glance. It's decent."

"But when I sit down at my desk and pick up a pen and paper to write, my mind goes blank, as if my brain has just been eaten by a zombie, and I can't think of anything."

"Perhaps this is because everyone has their own destiny. You can write a living work that is not under your control at will. I can only control the puppet to stumble and pretend that it moves on its own."

"Oh, let's not talk anymore. If I keep talking, I will want to drink. The bitter wine will go into my throat and my heart will hurt."

Lin Nan, who was sitting silently on the far left, stood up.

He ran back to the dining table.

While no one was looking, he stole a bottle of beer and came out.

Carefully hand it to the electronic otaku.

Electronic Otaku: "...Thank you, but I just said, if you really drink it, forget it."

Tang Ping took the beer bottle and put it aside.

"What's your pen name?"

After chatting for a long time, not only did I not know the other person’s name, I didn’t even know the other person’s pen name.

Most of the time when communicating, you really don’t need to know who the other person is. Meeting by chance is fate.

The electronic geek asked back: "I have many pen names, which one do you ask?"

"The one who voted for Dove of Peace."

The electronic otaku thought for a while: "If I remember correctly, it seems to be called 'Victor'?"

"Why use questions?"

Can't you even remember the pen name you are using?

"Because I have tried to submit articles to dozens of magazines, covering various categories such as fairy tales, history, military, science fiction, reality, youth, suspense, thriller, etc. Each one uses a different pen name."