The days of being a spiritual mentor in Meiman

In Gotham City, on a morning that was neither sunny nor warm, the students of Gotham University ushered in their psychology final exam.

When Evans handed out the papers, ghosts and wolves wailed in the classroom. Then, outside the door, the sound of leather shoes heels stepping on the marble floor sounded. In an instant, the classroom became silent.

Schiller walked into the classroom while packing the umbrella in his hand, and nodded in satisfaction when he saw that everyone was engrossed in writing.

Then he put the umbrella on the ground, put his hand on the umbrella handle, stood in the middle of the classroom and said: "This exam is 1 hour and 40 minutes. In theory, you can hand in the papers in advance, but it is very difficult for me to invigilate the exam here." Boring, I will definitely review the paper you handed in in advance."

"At least, you have to make sure that what you write is enough for me to read until you walk out of this classroom."

"In addition, although I didn't ask you to sit separately, it's best not to whisper to each other. Please write neatly on the scroll, and cursive fonts are not allowed. Most importantly, please write your name clearly. I mean legal name, don't Let me repeat the same as the first week of school, and repeatedly emphasize not to write nicknames."

"Okay, let's start answering the paper."

Then the whole classroom was completely silent, only the rustling sound of the pen tip scratching the scroll surface.

Gotham University has never had a classroom with such a strong learning atmosphere. Bruce looked up between writing. Sitting in front of him on the right is the nephew of the East End Hyena. This guy smoked and drank heavily in his early ten years Fights and fights, is a pure bad boy.

But at this time he was sitting in his seat, and 10 minutes later, he was still writing hard, or his brain full of alcohol and tobacco could still support him to continue writing.

Sitting on the left of Bruce is a well-known graffiti kid at Gotham University. He is good at spray painting and often messes up the walls everywhere. on the corridor wall.

He was almost at the end of the day, he couldn't write the first essay question, and he was drawing various patterns on the scroll.

Bruce glanced at it with good eyesight and realized that he was drawing Schiller, but unlike those spoof graffiti, the Schiller in his brush, with his back to a black sun, his hands open, some particle-like Patterns are surrounding him, the whole picture looks weird but handsome, but I don't know if Schiller is willing to see his meticulous creation and give him two more points.

After half an hour passed, more than two-thirds of the people were still writing. This is simply a miracle at Gotham University.

In the past, during the final exam, first of all, there would be a few thorns who were absent directly, and the seats must be full. Two minutes into the exam, someone finished writing their name, stood up and left.

Ten minutes after the test starts, many people will finish the simple and easy-to-write multiple-choice questions, put down their pens and hand in the papers in advance, and leave directly.

In the past, after 20 minutes, there were only a few people left in the classroom. Even if they stayed, they were not there to write those essay questions. It was just that they had no arrangements for the future, and they just took advantage of the quietness of the classroom to sleep.

But now, Bruce looked up at his watch, 40 minutes had passed, and half of them were still writing.

No one dared to hand in the papers ahead of time. Even though most of them had racked their brains and were hovering on the edge of their wits, most of them still bit their pens and sat in their seats, hoping that their small brains could squeeze out more. Write them a few words on the paper, trying to make the professor less angry when he sees their answers that are between illiterate and semi-literate.

In fact, even in the introductory textbooks of psychology, the proper nouns, names, theories, and definitions involved are all very difficult.

Not to mention these ignorant Gotham University students, even those students from famous American schools, must preview before giving special lectures, otherwise they will easily fall into the dilemma of blank mind.

Recitation, for these students whose brains have not turned for a long time, is a difficult task in itself, let alone a sudden recitation within a week or two.

When an hour passed, most people had stopped writing, and Bruce wrote down the list of those who were still writing hard on the draft paper, which would be the backbone of the psychology club he formed in the future.

After thinking about it, he still wrote the graffiti kid's name on it, after all, clubs always have artists for promotion.

After waiting for 1 hour and 40 minutes, when the "rolling paper" spit out by the professor sitting in front hit the floor heavily, there was one after another exhalation sound in the classroom, obviously they were going crazy.

When the test papers were collected, no one dared to leave, until Schiller stapled all the papers, checked the number of copies, checked the names, and left the classroom with a stack of test papers, the classroom was like a bomb that suddenly exploded, " It exploded with a bang.

"Oops! I can't fill in the blanks more than half of the questions, this is the end!"

"Damn it, I stepped up to memorize the definition of psychology last night! But I didn't take the exam?? If I knew earlier, I shouldn't have wasted so much time!"

"I wrote the answer to the second essay question on the fourth one. God, what should I do? I will definitely not get a point for the essay question!"

"Which one of you wrote the graduate application? Evans, did you write it? Yesterday my father told me that if I can go to graduate school with my brain, then I might as well expect our dog to be able to climb trees! But my dog ​​is a Corgi..."

"I still owe two papers that I haven't handed in. I have to complete them before the holiday, otherwise I will be worried about this holiday. Don't even think about having fun..."

Several people gathered in front of Bruce's table. They were the first group members Bruce invited. The graffiti boy Rainey with a fluorescent yellow forehead said: "The professor will like my paintings. I can see that he is a talented person. Artistic people."

"But he might prefer to see your correct answer," Bruce said.

"Come on, I don't know anything, and reciting will pollute my brain." Rainey touched his nose. He was a typical Germanic type with green eyes and a little freckles, and he wore reggae-style clothes.

"And who said that is not the correct answer? Who said that you must write to answer the question? The same is true for drawing, I will pass!"

"Okay, I'll pay you to draw a poster for me. It should be bigger and more impactful. It will be used to promote this club. You can set the price as you like, but I hope it must be shocking enough." Bruce said.

Rainey snapped his fingers and said, "Rich guy, you've found the right person! No one in Gotham knows how to shock people better than me!"

Several people gathered their heads together and muttered.

"What? You mean you're going to..."

"You're such a genius..."

"Add me, and I'll come too!"

"This is a big surprise... yes, I see it..."

"Maybe for the sake of this, he will give us a pass..."

A few days later, Schiller was accumulating anger notes while grading papers. Although he had already expected the level of the ignorant students at Gotham University, he still didn't expect them to pass the exam like this.

Because he didn't want to be continuously polluted by these academic garbage, Schiller planned to work overtime today, finish all the papers in one go, and give most of them a bad grade.

Suddenly, he heard a high-pitched screech coming from the window of the office building, a bit like a fire siren, but shorter and sharper than that.

Schiller stood up, looked out the window, and found that some lights were shaking. It was just dark now, far before the street lights were turned on, and most of the teachers and students hadn't left the school yet.

He heard a loud noise downstairs, as if someone was calling his last name, Schiller put down his pen and left the desk, and walked to the window.

The entire side of the opposite building was covered by a huge curtain. Schiller had heard people say that it was undergoing wall renovation, and he didn't often walk along that road, so he didn't pay much attention to it.

But as soon as he walked to the window, the curtain on the opposite wall fell down in an instant. There seemed to be a huge graffiti on it, which was as high as a 7-story building. The side light is as bright as day.

It was indeed a huge graffiti, the bottom was Schiller's back, and above it was a black sun filled with countless strange patterns. The sun was surrounded by several circles of flames composed of golden patterns, and Schiller's figure stood on the black sun. in front of.

Schiller's figure is almost merged into the background of the black sun, or this huge sun, like his shadow.

Standing in front of the window, Schiller was first dazzled by the high-power spotlight, and when he opened his eyes, he saw such a picture.

Schiller: "..."

Symbiote: "...Wow."

The side of the entire graffiti reads: "Join the psychology community, face the heart, face the black sun. - Blue Devil Rainey"

Schiller looked down and saw a group of people standing at the bottom of the building waving excitedly at him. Most of them were psychology majors at Gotham University, including Bruce Wayne.

Schiller raised his head again and looked at the black sun composed of countless strange patterns. It was full of a bizarre horror aesthetics, making people unable to move their eyes away when they saw it, as if their souls would be sucked into it.

Horror, weird, bizarre, absurd, but full of beauty that makes people fall into it and cannot extricate themselves.

Schiller recalled that "Gotham" originally meant "fool's village", and it is indeed full of all kinds of absurd fools, who don't know where they live and where they die.

But again, there are all kinds of geniuses here, with unparalleled talents and fascinating vitality.

Schiller was indeed a little fascinated. This bold and eccentric absurd action was full of special vitality that was not found anywhere in the world. It was like a terrifying vine climbing up from the bottomless abyss, and it was also like the top artwork of countless masters.

Schiller knew more than these students, but he just realized that he hadn't learned one thing—

It's also true that he hasn't learned Gotham yet.

Everyone living here is crazy, but at the same time sober.

This dark city doesn't need anyone to correct it. They live so crazily in the abyss, living out a twisted and weird vitality.

This kind of vitality grows from the darkness, and the people here use madness as a blade, so accurately pointing directly at anyone's heart.

Schiller stared straight at the black sun, he thought, maybe, the people here are all incomparable geniuses, and the only fool is himself, everyone who tries to act as a savior outside the comics.

People here rely on their brains without any theoretical knowledge of psychology to see through their professors like mind reading skills.

The black sun is also the sun, which is the most accurate profile of Schiller.

The incarnation of Schiller is indeed not a scorching sun, but a sun that does not shine or heat, a black sun.

After a few minutes, Schiller wrote a line of words on the foggy glass with his fingers - "You have passed."

In an instant, violent cheers erupted from downstairs. Under the black sun, it was as if the people illuminated by this never bright star were reveling in the celebration of new life.