Chapter Four: Teaching the Golden Finger to Work

When Zhou Shu emerged from the restroom, his roommates once again showered him with concern.

They too felt Zhou Shu had made quite a commotion today, but didn’t dwell on it much. After all, the pressure on those preparing for the college entrance exam was immense. At night, one could always hear someone running laps beside the playground, shouting at the top of their lungs—it was plain without even looking that these were seniors in their final year. Aside from shouting to vent their stress, there were other ways to let off steam; smashing a restroom sink, for example, seemed within the realm of understanding.

Of course, understanding didn’t mean endorsement—otherwise, students at Dongyuan No.1 High would soon have nowhere to wash up.

After tidying up and a bit more fussing, everyone in the dorm lay down again, seizing the last moments before the wake-up call to squeeze in a little more sleep.

Zhou Shu, however, was full of energy. His curiosity was overflowing, and he desperately wanted to know what exactly had happened to him. But since he was at school, surrounded by people, nothing could be done conveniently. This made him look forward to the weekend even more.

He stared quietly at the ceiling, listening to the sirens outside grow near and then fade away. He realized his reaction earlier was indeed excessive.

Despite having read countless web novels and feeling as though he understood every plot and setting, when it came to real life, he was still a rookie.

The exoskeleton armor from "Edge of Tomorrow" was incredibly powerful. Zhou Shu had barely raised his arm, and the mechanical limb had dismantled the sink. Had he used more force, perhaps the entire wall would have come down.

But his golden finger really could bring things from the dream into reality, and he felt no discomfort whatsoever—no sense of his vitality or soul being drained. If the price of bringing black technology from his "dreams" into reality was merely a bit of money, then he was winning by any measure.

Moreover, the process of deploying and retracting the exoskeleton was astonishingly smooth. Though he hadn’t paid attention when it appeared, he had watched carefully in the mirror as he retrieved it.

With the doorway blocked, his clearest thought was to make the exoskeleton armor disappear or hide, and he saw the armor start to transform from the chest. First, a small hole appeared in the chest piece, its material vanishing into thin air. Then the hole grew, rapidly spreading until the entire suit disappeared.

It was much like Iron Man’s nanotech armor.

Though his own suit was rougher and more primitive, it was still impressive. He retracted his earlier thoughts about his golden finger being weak.

His golden finger was actually quite formidable!

Of course, it wasn’t invincible—at least, Zhou Shu faced a big problem now.

He needed his golden finger to communicate more clearly.

The reason he’d ended up dismantling the restroom was due to unclear instructions and understanding; their mental communication was vague, and he had to "translate" for himself.

It was absurd!

He thought of some web novel plots, felt confident once more, and then tried to silently ask in his mind, "Hey, could you express your meaning in written words?"

Almost immediately, some characters appeared "before" Zhou Shu’s eyes.

[ηδβΧΘ?ひりらозжы＆＃?ǔ?∞∽?]

[??＆∽ǔжЫТИЛ??り?:??a?〃ΞΦΘ]

Zhou Shu: "…"

Well, it was strange, but similar to the mental exchange earlier. He "translated" and gleaned the general meaning.

Apparently, it said it was something used for combat or warfare, though it didn’t participate directly—it was a soldier’s auxiliary device, equipped with training functions.

The place Zhou Shu had gone was a virtual battlefield for soldiers to hone their combat abilities. Since the main enemies were monsters and such, the virtual battlefield simulated similar adversaries.

Even though this was written communication, Zhou Shu spoke Mandarin while the other side used what amounted to an alien language, so he still had to guess meanings—no different from the previous mental exchange.

"Alright, I take back what I said earlier. This thing is probably not just a chunk of iron."

Fortunately, Zhou Shu had his own database—namely, all the novels he’d read—perhaps he could borrow some tricks.

As he mulled over it, inspiration struck.

"This system needs to be localized!"

Since it was a golden finger that could bring things from dreams into reality and display alien text, surely learning Chinese characters would be simple?

Zhou Shu guessed their fuzzy exchanges might be due to differences in thinking and worldviews. Like how a modern person sees a plane and knows it’s a plane, but someone from ancient times might think it’s a giant iron bird or a vehicle of the immortals—the ways of thinking and worldviews are different, so it’s perfectly normal for a phrase to have multiple meanings.

Not to mention things from hundreds or thousands of years ago—even in the past couple decades, the chrysanthemum now means more than just a flower.

So Zhou Shu and his golden finger’s current exchange, even understanding the gist, was already quite a feat.

This golden finger was probably an alien device. Whether it came from a super technological civilization, a higher-dimensional or magical world, or some god, its mode of thinking was certainly different from humanity’s. Zhou Shu needed it to adapt to human thinking.

After all, Zhou Shu was its user—it should adapt to him, not the other way around. So some localization was necessary.

Most importantly, Zhou Shu found it quite obedient, with none of the rebellious issues found in golden fingers from other web novels. So it should be possible.

Indeed, the device quickly responded, indicating it could learn.

Following his suggestions, it tried several times; before his eyes, he saw oracle bone script, bronze script, small seal script, traditional characters, and finally, the auxiliary device’s communication became simplified Chinese.

"Hey, this thing is really obedient—does exactly as told, no endless chatter, no forced erasure. Much better than those messy, flashy golden fingers. ‘Auxiliary’ is truly not an empty name."

"It does seem a bit dumb, though—only acts when instructed, not very clever."

Feeling his training was successful, Zhou Shu muttered to himself.

Yet he found that mere simplified Chinese wasn’t enough. Some things were cumbersome to describe, with explanations for a tiny item sprawling into paragraphs—neither concise nor intuitive.

He needed a simpler, more direct way to display information.

After some thought, he had an idea. He stopped pretending to sleep, pulled out his phone, and began searching.

There were plenty of references out there—no need to reinvent the wheel. As a human, individual abilities and ideas are limited; in times like this, it’s best to borrow the wisdom of others.

In this information age, the accumulation of predecessors quickly becomes the foundation for successors—no need to dig the foundation anew. Find a suitable base and build upward, until a towering skyscraper emerges.

"Found it—this is exactly what I need…"

"Classic things always feel right…"

"Let’s add this, mix it in…"

Unbeknownst to him, the loudspeaker outside began playing music.

No matter how good a song is, after hearing it eight hundred times, it becomes dull. If it’s also used as the school’s morning wake-up bell, it doesn’t just lose appeal—it becomes physically revolting.

Just like now, students cursed as they got out of bed.

"Damn, it’s this song again!"

"Can’t they change it? Every time I hear it, I feel like I’m having a heart attack!"

"I heard students at No. 16 High School once smashed the loudspeaker. Maybe you should try?"

"I wouldn’t dare. My dad would never pay for it, and he’d break my legs. I’ll just listen quietly…"

"Just chatted with a student from the International School—they said something happened next door, police lights flashing all night…"

"Really? Things feel unsettled lately. Not long ago, something happened near my home too. No idea what exactly, but loads of police showed up. My mom heard from others someone died, and it was terrible. The stories sounded so convincing, she was worried for days."

"It’s not that scary—you’re just seeing survivor bias. Our Great Qin is still relatively peaceful…"

PS: The next few chapters cover the protagonist’s small explorations after obtaining his golden finger. Some readers have said these are a bit slow—if you don’t want to read them, you can skip to chapter twelve, where the training scenario begins. (They’re all free anyway; honestly, it’s just a few minutes.)