Chapter 58 A Loud Laughter
He held the severed arm in his hand, and a chill emanated from the coarse hair, lightly pinching it into place.
He looked at the white snowflakes on his fingertips, turned his arm over, and found that the broken arm was also covered in snow, without a single drop of blood.
"Waaah~"
He was shocked and terrified, shouting loudly at everyone.
Everyone thought he had pulled down another person's arm and rushed over.
As I walked closer, I realized it wasn't a real arm, but an artificial one made by hand.
That snowman...
They turned their heads and stared at the snowman's mouth and face, only to find that it was not a real person, but a fake one.
They were extremely surprised and panicked because such a situation had never occurred before, and they were at a loss for what to do with this new thing.
Almost subconsciously, they all placed their hands on the stone cones and bone spurs.
Wang Yang wanted exactly this effect. He walked through the crowd, calmly standing beside the snowman, turned around and kicked one foot at the snowman in front of everyone.
The snowman collapsed with a crash, and white snow splashed everywhere.
Everyone stared blankly for a while before reacting and gathering around to watch.
They curiously reached out with their hands to touch and stroke the snowman's hair, and let out a surprised shout.
"That's right, this is wild boar hair, and that's a fake person." Wang Yang smiled as he drew a person next to the snowman, pointing at the drawing, then at the snowman, and finally at them.
"The people in the painting are us, and that snowman is also us."
Wang Yang didn't care if they understood or not, patiently explaining as he pointed again and again, the confused students also focused their attention on the person in the painting.
Wang Yang collected the fur from the snowman's body and spread it on the person in the painting.
They didn't say anything more, just stood there looking at Wang Yang, looking at that painting.
The sky gradually darkened, they sat in the cave, looking a bit restless, the dry firewood crackled and popped, sparks flew up, leaving an impression on their pupils.
The next day, Wang Yang got up early and called everyone to the outside of the cave. In front of them, he made a snowman step by step, which was exactly the same as the one from yesterday.
And also drew a human figure on the side, pointing and painting tirelessly, pointing at the snowman, pointing at everyone.
Everyone's eyes still looked hollow and dull, as if they didn't understand what they were doing.
Wang Yang didn't require them to understand immediately. He just instilled in them the concept of transitioning from three-dimensionality to abstraction, letting them know that what he painted wasn't lines, but a person.
When they have a concept, you just need to draw one person and they can think of it as a snowman, then think of themselves.
For the next dozen or so days, he continued to repeat this dull and tasteless process, piling up snowmen that looked alike, drawing pictures that looked alike, and pointing at people who looked alike.
Then suddenly one day, when he walked out of the cave, a four-year-old child had piled up a snowman on the ground.
He didn't pile it high because he was too short. The snowman looked very ugly, with no eyes drawn and the fingers and toes not separated.
But he remembered to put the boar hair on the snowman.
Then he drew a picture beside it.
Wang Yang quietly walked over without disturbing him.
He draws poorly, his head is drawn as a polygon and the lines are also very distorted.
But he painted with great care, his eyes wide open, the long eyelashes stained with snowflakes, his small hands frozen red but refusing to shrink back, holding tightly onto the small branch.
He drew an arm, then a small hand, and this time he drew fingers, the size of which was almost as big as his arm.
Then he drew legs and feet, toes were also in the same situation.
His grasp of dimensions is really bad, can be said to be very bad, compared with modern four-year-old children, the more different the more different.
But Wang Yang watched from the side, his nose sour, a wave of unimaginable emotion hitting his brain, washing over him again and again.
The child finished drawing, took two steps back, and bumped into Wang Yang. He stared blankly at Wang Yang, pointing to the person in the painting, then to the snowman, and finally to himself.
At this moment, Wang Yang had an urge to cry.
He picked up the child in one swift motion and burst into loud laughter.
"Haha, after all these years, heaven has eyes, and finally I've seen a glimmer of hope for survival!"
He could hardly suppress his emotions, and the anger that had been pent up in his heart for many years seemed to be released all at once.
It's like seeing the protagonist who has been abused for half a day finally explode.
Since coming to the Old Stone Age, he thought day and night, except for the most basic survival, is to open their minds, to reach the point of communication.
He has made many attempts for this, but after several years, there is no effect at all.
There has been a breakthrough at last.
He's happy!
A life without communication and expression is actually worse than death, extremely miserable. Even if there are people around you, it's no different from being alone.
He suspected that if he couldn't see a glimmer of civilization again, he would go mad on some day in the next few decades.
Fortunately, although there are few people, there are always some children with good spirituality.
His loud laughter attracted a crowd of onlookers.
Everyone ran out of the cave and looked at him excitedly, as if he had been hit by 50 million on the road, and made a tentative "wow" for two sentences.
He burst out laughing and put down the child: "Come on, kid, show them your results."
That child had no idea what Wang Yang was muttering about and stood there in a daze.
Wang Yang was anxious: "You point, point at the snowman and then at you, don't you understand that the figure in the painting is a person?"
Wang Yang hastily pointed with his finger.
He seemed to understand Wang Yang's meaning, pointing at the person in the painting, then at the snowman, and finally at himself.
"Right, right! The people in the painting are equal to snowmen, and snowmen are equal to us!" Wang Yang was overjoyed.
Everyone stared at the child in amazement, unable to understand what had happened and how he had learned Wang Yang.
All day long, Wang Yang was in a state of excitement and specially brought back a small bear for everyone to eat.
But what made him even happier was that when he went out the next day, he found Wang Yuyan starting to build a snowman.
She did the same thing as that child, Wang Yang was so excited that he hugged her and kissed her wildly.
"No wonder she's my sister, indeed clever."
Wang Yingying saw Wang Yang so happy, she also smiled, hehe.
When he came back in the afternoon, Zhang San also started building a snowman.
Wang Yang was still somewhat dissatisfied with Zhang San. This kid liked to imitate himself, but this time his reaction was ranked third, which didn't make sense.
But as long as they can gradually begin to understand the meaning of the painting, it's okay.
In the following days, the same thing happened one after another. Wang Yang couldn't tell whether it was the result of group effect or they all understood the abstract concept, anyway it's a good thing.
Adults' imitation is slower, they have lived for a long time, and their sensitivity will be slightly worse.
Children are different, they are like clean white paper, with a very incomplete understanding of the world and a strong ability to accept new things.
And so winter passed.
A new year's spring is approaching, and Wang Yang is full of ambition for the future.
"What's your outlook on the future?"
"He must have stared wide-eyed and replied: 'How did you guys get here?'"
A bit late, today is the 24th, friends in the south are celebrating the Little New Year, yesterday was the 23rd, friends in the north were celebrating the Little New Year, belatedly saying, happy Little New Year to everyone.
