Tang Qing continued to bow his head.
Biting on a pen cap.
Lost in thought.
His brows furrowed slightly.
That appearance enthralled many girls in the class, who couldn't help indulging in waves of fantasies, images so 'indecent' they could hardly bear them, yet these thoughts were their own creations, indelible.
Visible.
But out of reach.
Not only were men frustrated.
Women were too, especially those prone to daydreaming.
At the very back.
On an A4-sized piece of paper in front of Tang Qing.
There were chaotic lines.
An average person, even if they strained their eyes, couldn't understand what was on it—because the human brain's filtering capacity isn't strong enough. In reality, amidst those messy lines were individual parts.
Dozens.
Hundreds of parts.
Tang Qing had drawn them all on one piece of paper.
They overlapped one another.
