The alarm clock on the wall is ticking.

The dark night outside, occasionally blowing a night breeze, with a glorious flavor unique to Hollywood.

"Yawn!" Yi Feiyang didn't know how long he had written, his wrist was sore, the main thing was his head was cracked.

"It's so sleepy. Sure enough, creation is not a simple task." Yi Feiyang began to admire the great creators. Like himself, he already has a very detailed storyline in his mind. It is still so hard to write a novel Overworked, those writers who just conceived the outline, but need to constantly modify it. To be honest, they really are geniuses.

"Well, why is the sky already bright?" Yi Feiyang looked at the window, and saw a ray of bright sunlight coming in from the window. It turned out that he had been writing all night without knowing it.

Take a look at your own achievements. A large stack of manuscripts has three or four thousand words. Fortunately, it is a short story. If you write a long story, then you will not be exhausted? !!

Fortunately, it is about to be completed!

Yi Feiyang stretched his arms and continued to work hard.

On the bed next to him, the fat man was wearing big floral pants, slumping his ass, and still sleeping.

The fat man's sleeping posture is very windy, his face is stuck on the pillow, his mouth is drooling, his fat is high, and his hips are tilted. He also scratches his ass from time to time.

At this time, the fat man did not know that his good brother was working hard for his dreams.

Half an hour later, when Yi Feiyang wrote the last word, the righteous man almost collapsed.

"Finally, you are done, Yi Feiyang, you have already taken the first step towards success." Yi Feiyang looked at the manuscript, encouraged himself, "Keep on, just send this manuscript of the novel to the 'terrorist king' Stephen- Take a look at him and ask him to approve two sentences and you will be saved. "

Yi Feiyang's plan is very savvy. With his lonely name, if he really submits directly to any newspaper, eight to nine will be beaten back, not to mention that he is still a stowaway Chinese, and the odds are even lower.

With Stephen King's instructions and comments, then it's different. It's like having a rocket and flying into the sky.

Of course, as the famous "terrorist king" in the United States and the best in the world of fiction, Stephen King will never give it to anyone easily, especially an obscure newcomer to make a comment ... But Yi Feiyang just wanted to gamble, after all this The novel is adapted from a future Stephen King movie. How should it be "resonant"? !!

After making up his mind, Yi Feiyang got up and arranged the manuscripts carefully, which made him feel weak and exhausted.

No more, no more energy.

Yi Feiyang walked over and opened the dilapidated refrigerator, took out fresh eggs from it, took out the glass, hit a series of ten, filled the glass full, then stirred it with chopsticks, and lifted his neck to drink.

Drinking ten raw eggs in one breath is a habit that Yi Feiyang raised in his previous life. Just like many people like to drink coffee in the morning, he likes to drink raw eggs. This habit is very nutritious, and it is especially effective for supplementing physical strength.

After drinking the raw eggs in the glass, Yi Feiyang took a deep breath and started to do sit-ups.

At first he did it with both palms, then with five fingers, then two fingers, and finally, with one hand behind his back, one with one hand ... one, two, three ... his arms The muscles curled up and the limbs outlined a kind of athletic beauty.

After doing enough for more than 500, Yi Feiyang, who had finished warming up, jumped up and punched in the narrow room.

I saw him angry with Dan Tian, ​​holding his arms together, stepping out slowly, and then punched hard. At first, the fist was silent and there seemed to be no effort, but as his pace accelerated, the fist began to bring out the wind and scream.

Gao Jiabao, a fat man, was scratching his buttocks on the bed, and Yi Feiyang punched and punched him on the bench supporting his bed.

With a "click", the bench cracked, and the unlucky fat man rolled off the bed like a gourd, slamming his head on the ground fiercely.

"Oh, my mother!" The fat man rubbed his head. "This is the tenth time! My head can no longer stand the test of your fist!"

Gao Jiabao complained about Yi Feiyang practicing boxing every morning, because every time Yi Feiyang soared, he would miss his fat fish. He was already distressed to find several benches from the garbage dump to support the bed, so that even beggars on the road thought he was recycling used furniture.

"I'm sorry Feibao, I just tried harder."

"It's not that you have been too hard just now, but you have always been very hard! I really don't understand, what's the use of your boxing so well? You can't eat for meals. On the contrary, the more you practice, the faster you get hungry. I......"

Coo! The fat man's belly started to drum.

"Stop it, get some food first!" The fat man opened the refrigerator, and then saw that it was almost empty, and looked at the egg shell next to it. Needless to say, all the eggs he had bought shortly before were put into Yifeiyang's belly.

The fat man is hard, "I only know now, why we can't save any money, this way of drinking eggs, even if I am a millionaire, can't support you!"

"What are you doing so much? Didn't I leave you a few?" Yi Feiyang said with a towel on his face.

The fat man looked at a few "leftover eggs" in the refrigerator.

"What are you looking at?"

"I am studying whether this is an egg or a dove egg ?!" the fat man said seriously. "No matter, let's hit a few poached eggs before talking." The fat man packed up and went to the common kitchen in the hallway, living opposite a group of Indian Asan, at this moment An Asan was making fragrant "curry chicken".

Test, eat chicken curry early in the morning, not afraid of getting angry! The fat man sucked his nose.

Opposite India 's Asan is very friendly, referring to the dishes he made, and saying to the fat man, "Hey, friend, would you like to come a little?"

The fat man covered his mouth, "no, no! I'm afraid of spicy!" Then he pointed to his own eggs, "I like to eat this ... work like an egg"

The Indian nodded and gave a thumbs up: "Everything is good and nutritious."

Grunting, the water rolled, and the fat man began to beat poached eggs.

When the Indians entered the house, the fat man stomped over. "Wow, burn your hands!" Gritting his teeth, he served the curry chicken with the pot.

"Ayan, hurry up, there is something delicious!" The fat man greeted Yi Feiyang with great vigilance.

"Where did it come from?"

"Eat what you have, don't worry about that!"

...

The two gorged and quickly wiped out a pot of curry chicken.

The Indians were scolding outside: "Oh shit! Just steal my curry chicken, even my pot!"

In the bedroom, "Don't you ..." Yi Feiyang looked at the fat man in surprise.

Fat man: "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

After eating enough and drinking enough, Yi Feiyang shook off his clothes, looked smartly and put on his own treasured suit, which he bought for ten dollars from the stand, although it was not a brand-name item, but he wore it in He seemed extraordinarily spirited.

In the mirror, Yi Feiyang's eyebrows swelled into the air, staring eyes like ponds, and Junyi's incomparable face was enough to captivate many female surnames.

Looking at Yi Feiyang with a fat man in the back, he shouted, "Well, if you are willing to put your son down to be a cowboy, we are probably well developed."

Yi Feiyang turned back to the fat man's forehead, "Men can have no money, but not dignity!"

The fat man touched his head. "I'm just talking about it. I can't be so serious! Hey, where are you going to dress so neatly?"

Yi Feiyang: "Send the manuscript!"

"What manuscript?"

"The novel I wrote last night."

"Ah, can you write a novel? Is it true or false?" The fat man couldn't believe the thick manuscript in Yi Feiyang's hands.

"I read Stephen King's book last night, didn't I?"

"Look at the ghost, you can read it after reading a book? Then everyone in the world will become a writer!"

"Believe it or not!"

Yi Feiyang left the door without waiting for the fat man to ask.

The fat man was in a hurry, "Wait for me, I will go too!" He hurriedly dressed and chased out from behind.

As soon as he went out, the Indian stopped him: "Hey man, do you see who stole my curry chicken?"

"No! I haven't seen anyone ... uh!" The fat man gave a melodious fullness, full of curry.

...

on the street.

Looking at the manuscript slipping into the mailbox, Yi Feiyang seemed to see the future and hope.

The fat man beside him squatted on the ground, muttering in his mouth: "If the novel you wrote tonight can be turned into money, this postbox will not be a postbox, it will be a magic house!"

Yi Feiyang gave him a violent shudder, "Good and bad spirits. Can't you say something auspicious?"

The fat man poked his mouth, then folded his hands into the mailbox and said, "Listen to the god of the mailbox. There is no Huang Daxian temple here. I just ask your old people to show mercy. Bless A Yang's novel soaring into the sky, and the blockbuster is amazing! Bless me to follow Spicy and spicy! Bless us to develop faster and become famous in Hollywood! Amitabha, Jesus bless! "

Yi Feiyang: "...? !!!"