"Ah?"
The novelist cocked his head, staring blankly at him.
"Do you have any way to copy the novel in my brain?"
Liu Zheng asked.
A long novel of several million characters would take too much time for him to type out.
"There is a way, but it would cause great harm to you, senior."
The novelist hesitated.
"Will it kill me?"
"No, it won't kill you, just cause a lot of pain."
The novelist shook his head.
"Then that's fine, let's do it."
Liu Zheng spread his tentacles.
"Ah, now? With so many people watching."
The novelist's cheeks turned slightly red.
"The sooner we do it, the sooner it's over. Stop dawdling and let's go."
He urged.
"Okay, okay. Then I'm coming in now, senior,"
The novelist said.
"Hurry up, make it quick."
"Senior, could you do me a favor?"
The novelist spoke tentatively.
"What favor?"
"Help me take something out of my clothes."
The novelist pointed at his large sleeve.
"Ah? How do I do that?"
Liu Zheng was momentarily stunned.
