2023 Astounding - Xin Weimu part 1
Sep. 20th, 2023 04:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
psocopteraWhen the Hugo finalists were announced, I was hoping there would be more translation activity than there's been. Either formally (I thought Clarkesworld, with a strong history in doing English-translation reprints of Chinese fiction, might rush some of the finalists into publication) or informally (I am peripherally aware via Untamed fandom of the world of fan translators - there are some very smart, dedicated, generous bilingual people out there doing fan translation work on danmei, it seemed possible that there might be similar people in SFF fandom). None of that has really materialized, or possibly it has but I can't find it - the collapse of Twitter has been really bad for my following anything going on in either fannish or SFF spaces.
Obviously nobody is obligated to do any work to spoonfeed us monolinguists! But given that the Hugos have historically been Anglophone, it would have been nice to get a *little* more content directed towards us? Not, like, by the concom, who are surely very busy, but just by... someone. By other fans or writers, who do bridge the two language spheres. Articles or essays or interviews in the magazines, introducing these exciting writers to their new Anglosphere Hugo-voter audience. Again, maybe that's out there and I just can't find it. But it feels like a missed opportunity.
Anyways, here's what I've been able to put together about Xin Weimu. (I'm like 95% sure Xin is her surname and Weimu is her personal name, that's the first thing.) She's on Twitter as xinweimu , which I guess is useless now that you need an account to see anything on twitter. She's posted some nonfiction essays here at a site called Sixth Tone, including one about being a danmei reader and author.
There are three stories included in the packet. I've Google-translated the first one, 哈农练指法, which I'm pasting in here behind the cut. Instantaneous machine translation is on the one hand amazing and mindblowing and on the other hand still kind of laborious and annoying to actually do - all the highlighting and copying and pasting and going back to put in the paragraph breaks, and the other two stories are longer (18 and 21 pages vs 14 for this one). I hope to get to them over the next couple days. But here's "Hanon Fingering Practice", about 8700 words, in case there's anyone out there who hasn't already done the Google-translate work themselves but would like to read it if they didn't have to.
辛维木-哈农练指法
Hanon fingering practice
Text | Xin Weimu (published in the July 2021 issue of "Science Fiction Cube")
1
Like a person running at full speed crashing into a brick wall. Shao Bin felt that all the blood in his body was poured into the muscles of his ten fingers, squeezing away the inertia of hitting the keys. The passive pulling sensation of the brain nerves suddenly disappeared. He was as light as if he was flying high, flowing slowly along the air, without using anything. Think without looking or listening. Stopping is an art that requires strength rather than laziness. This is what Dr. Xiao Mo warned him before leaving. It coincides with Professor Swan's daily teachings. Sudden braking will only lead to loss of control and even accidents. A true master knows how to be the master of his own body and hold back his next move without changing his expression. The mushy notes disconnected one by one, swinging back and forth according to some invisible rhythm inside the body. Duomi, la, shu, mi/lai, shu, lasila, shufa/mi, lassi, dosi, shu... 108 keys per minute turns out to be so slow. He suppressed a yawn, let his fingers continue to rise and fall, and raised his head to look around the piano room. This is not his first time here. Every six minutes, he has to flash here for only two or three seconds, but he remembers the signs of "Haicheng Concert Hall" that can be seen everywhere, the fragrance of lilies that permeates the entire building, and the... After the piano room door opened, the stage manager's voice sounded as usual: "Professor Shao, there is only one hour until the performance starts."
"Okay, I'll warm up." He said, surprised by the weight of his vocal cords. Has he always talked like this? He tried to recall the last words he said an hour and a half ago. It should have been on the bed in the "Time Magic" clinic. He closed his eyes and murmured to himself in front of the smiles of the doctors. He said: "If everything goes well, I'll see you in fifteen years." It was the voice of a 20-year-old young man who had spent all his savings, with a bit of arrogance and idleness that was not afraid of death. A lot of things happened later, and he couldn't remember them all. Anyway, events big and small and people he would never see again whizzed by, but just like the Hanon exercise between his fingers, everything was just moving forward smoothly at the original speed.
"I went back to listen to your lecture on Alumni Day last year. You said that if you play half a Hanon every day, you can technically reach the standard of a pianist. It's a pity that I listened too late. Seeing you practice the piano without hesitation time and time again is really a lesson from experience. Let’s talk.” The stage manager leaned against the door with his hands folded.
Shao Bin did not stop and stayed for a long time. When the dizziness under his temples dissipated, he got used to the speed of speaking word by word: "Oh, you can't lose the basic skills. If you practice them too much, they will become muscle memory. But be careful, just rely on the conditions. If you use reflexes to control your hands, you will lose your emotional focus and flexibility." He was a little surprised that he could still talk to people normally like this, but then he thought about it, he had been able to live peacefully for fifteen years now instead of Being thrown into a mental hospital shows that he is much stronger than he thought.
"You are always so considerate. You are indeed a genius of our time! ... No need to interrupt, you can continue." The stage manager said with a smile, and gently closed the door. Her sudden compliment made Shao Bin frown: Genius? Only then did he see the poster on the screen at the door, a stranger who looks very much like himself, with the title "Genius Award Winner Returns: Shao Bin Piano Recital" above his head, and the muse on the trophy beside him spreading her wings. Oh, he remembered. Just a minute ago, he was holding a heavy solid gold trophy and was blinded by the flashing lights. Then came the interviews and parties one after another. He kept repeating polite words and how he determined to become a piano player. How can we squeeze out time from performances and teaching to create appreciation programs and bring the tranquility and wit of classical music back to the spiritual world of mass consumers? The fixed answer is like the up and down scratching of the keyboard. You can't hear it clearly but you can write it down in music notation, leaving a painful feeling on your fingernails.
He looked at the poster again, then at the reflection in the piano's paint. Well, this is really him at the age of 35. His figure is stronger than before, lines have begun to appear at the corners of his eyes, and the bangs on his forehead are not very successful in covering the receding hairline. In any case, he should have earned it. His 20-year-old self would be happy to see what he is now. Even if he has any complaints, the genius trophy that rewards artistic innovation and public service and is coveted by creators around the world will at least satisfy him. ——Of course, it would be better if he could wake up on the day of the Genius Award and slowly savor the glory of the past two months. But people can't be too greedy.
Shao Bin walked through the backstage corridor with familiarity. He didn't need to read the signs, and his feet moved forward before his brain. Seeing only a spotlight shining on the piano in the dark concert hall, he smiled, as if he was reunited with his long-lost family. The last time he really stepped onto this stage was when he was 17 years old. He won third place in the final of the Ligeti International Piano Grand Prix. Then he met Professor Swann, who was a judge, and was recommended to Limo Ligeti in Haicheng. Maria University School of Music. At that time, the Haicheng Concert Hall still had an old-fashioned air, and the layout was not as spacious as it is now.
Applause, playing, and cheering, he had dreamed of making a living from this when he was young. Not only that, he dreamed of being bathed in lights and cheers and still being known after his death. Now, he bows deeply in the audience's call for his seventh encore. The honors he shared with the top filmmakers, writers, producers, and painters from all over the world are printed on the venue catalog. The sponsorship nameplate of the charity classroom in the concert hall is engraved with " With his name on his name, the university where he once lived became his hometown where he commuted to and from work as a visiting professor.
"Success cannot be rushed." He recalled that on the first day he registered in Lemuria, Professor Swan poured cold water on him, "You have talent, but you still need more practice than you can endure. And the unbearable setbacks, especially your impatience, you have to change. Otherwise, you are at most an excellent performer, but you can obviously do better." Not enough, not enough, not enough. Every time they met, Professor Swann's tense expression and deep tone always left Shao Bin at a loss. Finally, when Shao Bin held the A- final transcript and asked why he was targeted when he was admitted, Professor Swan gave a mysterious answer: "What you need is time."
He has time now. Shao Bin looked for Professor Swann in the bright auditorium. If I remember correctly, every year he returned to Haicheng to perform, Professor Swann would sit in the second box on the left side of the second floor, nodding slightly behind his gold-rimmed glasses. , bowed and left before the applause stopped, and went backstage to greet him with a hug. But the usual seat was empty, and a slightly stout old woman was looking down and turning around.
As soon as his joy came to his mind, he was interrupted by a sharp pain. Images of coffins, flowers, and people in black flashed quickly before his eyes. Yes, Professor Swann on the hospital bed was like an unreal photo, imprinted in his memory. He hurriedly flew back to Haicheng without attending the farewell dinner of the "Genius Award Art Week". The two seconds he spent composing the requiem for Professor Swann felt like a full 48 hours. In the cemetery, although he just touched his wife's hands in comfort, the trembling warmth still remained on his fingertips.
He also forgot about one person, the woman in a black dress, turning her face away and sobbing. He reached out to put his hand on her shoulder, but she took a small step to the side... Shao Bin woke up from a dream and looked towards the first row of the concert hall. The VIPs who paid a lot of money were dressed in fine clothes. Among them were A few familiar faces who often come to his concerts. The little girl who always blew him a kiss was gone, and two burgundy soft chairs stood side by side staring at him. But they were coming every time. He was so stunned that he didn't notice that the curtain had begun to lower slowly. "Professor Shao! Professor Shao!" The stage manager called him in a low voice several times before he came back to his senses, bowed again, and strode away.
The speed limit in the urban area is 60 kilometers per hour. Shao Bin stared at the dashboard of the automatic car without blinking, but he still couldn't keep his eyes on the needle to turn half a minute to the right. His heart was beating wildly, not because of the illusion of remaining inertia, but because it really exceeded the normal value, making his face turn red. He had never been so anxious to rush to a place. He clenched his fists and couldn't help but smile.
How could he forget that? He had spent most of the past fifteen years with Yao Man, but after all, the last time he took a closer look at Yao Man was exactly fifteen years ago - when he invited her to watch music For the final performance of the college's chamber music workshop, Yao Man said apologetically that he had already made an appointment with his classmates from the literature department to go out to watch a play. That night, Shao Bin was standing by the stage with his head bowed, waiting for the performance, but the side door of the auditorium suddenly opened. Yao Man poked his head in and looked around, then walked straight towards him, smiling and nodding. When she found an empty seat and sat down, her breathing was still a little rapid, and the broken hair on her temples was stuck to her skin with sweat. He originally wanted to come find her after the show, but was dragged directly to the bar by his friends from the band. The day after that concert was the injection time scheduled by Shao Bin and Dr. Xiao Mo. After filling out more than ten pages of questionnaires and signing and confirming them, he looked at the row of medicine tubes beside the bed anxiously, and still couldn't hold it in: "What do you like? What about the girl? Can I still be with her fifteen years later?”
Doctor Xiao Mo put on his gloves with a smile: "Do you think I am a fortune teller? I can't guarantee that. In fifteen years, you will still live your life day by day. Our job is just to make this day feel better. It’s just that long. Whether you can be with her, just like whether you can become a great musician, depends on your determination."
Familiar scenes gather together little by little like snowflakes, forming intermittent but at least recognizable shapes. Yao Man’s dimples when he laughed, the thin voice at the poetry reading, the tender kiss, the white gauze dancing in the sun, home, the little body wrinkled by amniotic fluid... An hour and a half ago, he was still... I was hesitating whether to regard the campus love that had not yet begun as a lifelong commitment, but unknowingly, he was probably the worst husband in the world. In order to find out what happened between him and Yao Man, Shao Bin actually opened the search engine and entered his wife's name.
In the next few days, while wandering alone in an empty house or going to teach at the University of Lemuria, Shao Bin would always lower his head and scroll through the screens. When someone greeted him on the road, he just waved and didn't care who they were. He read Yao Man's novels and essays, collected reports about her, and saved every photo of her, as if he was getting to know a stranger from scratch.
Needless to say, Yao Man, who studied literature in Lemuria, also succeeded. Even though she didn't win any "genius award", she was steadily producing works, attending book launches, and premieres. Her profile picture sometimes appears on lists such as "Young Writers You Must Know" and "Top Ten Emerging Cross-Border Artists". Her long hair is casually tied up, her slightly parted lips are not smiling, and her eyes look like two The black hole that threatens to suck in everything around it flickers in the deep distance. "There's a sense of oppression" and "terrible", that's what the boys in the school said back then, but Shao Bin could always read some kind of outward force from her inward chin. Just like now, when he looked at When he touched her face, her whole body felt warm unconsciously.
Reading Yao Man's words is like picking up those old books that I read in my childhood, the young artists who met and fell in love on campus, the children who were awakened by the dinosaurs in their nightmares, the old craftsmen who were defeated by machine algorithms... Every name would open a secret room in Shao Bin's mind that he had never noticed before. He knew each of them, but upon closer inspection, each one was different from his impression. He could even hear Yao Man's explaining voice. At the dinner table, during walks, and after turning off the lights, she shared new ideas with him, either hesitating or out of breath. Shao Bin didn't know He answered in the same way, but her tone and rhythm finally turned into the notes under his hands.
"Dedicated to Yao Man," he pulled out this draft from the pile of music scores. The date marked with the pen was ten years ago, as a gift for their first wedding anniversary. Later, this set of musical scores was published and became his first attempt at composing. Ten years ago, that is, an hour ago, those should have been his happiest minutes. On stage, every time his expression began to relax and his fingers began to jump, that moment of joy would be released from his subconscious and join the overexcited muscle reflexes.
Yao Man didn't even take this away. What made her so angry? The last time she publicly mentioned Shao Bin was in an interview about the new novel "Peach Forest" at the beginning of the year. Like every interview in recent years, the reporter asked her about her feelings as a "famous musician's wife", especially in such a modern story that uses "Kuafu chasing the sun", the protagonist is constantly chasing the sun. Until death, is there any correspondence from life? Book reviewers put forward two interpretations. One is that she is writing about Shao Bin's pursuit of music, and the other is that she is writing about her own pursuit of Shao Bin's achievements. Which one is closer to reality? Yao Yao Mann's answer was simple: there was no need to guess, she just wanted to write an interesting story.
Well said, Shao Bin secretly cheered her up. She was always compared to her husband and judged to be inferior every time. No wonder she was unhappy. There is no comparison between music and literature. To be honest, this is clearly the best combination. When he and Yao Man first met, they often bumped into each other at school concerts and literature lectures. After getting acquainted, they half-jokingly talked about how to collaborate: they could write a musical together. Every time I make a meal appointment in the cafeteria, their topics always end up here - Yao Man writes lyrics, Shao Bin writes music, plot is a big problem, they don't understand life outside campus yet, hey, think about it again.
That was before Shao Bin stepped into the "Time Magic" clinic. Later, he couldn't remember that he and Yao Man had written anything together. Yao Man probably mentioned it a few times, but Shao Bin was too busy. It was enough for him to stay sane during those days and nights on steroids.
Shao Bin found the address of Yao Man's new home in a folder called "Divorce Matters." After the online meeting about recording the new album, he hurried away without eating. He remembered that they had visited the house together, and that the two of them would come here for retreat if they were in a hurry to catch up on work. Looking at the terms of the divorce agreement, it was assigned to Yao Man.
His biometric information was deleted, and Shao Bin wandered around the lobby of the apartment for a long time. It was not until dark that he waited for Yao Man, who came downstairs for a jog. "Don't care what they say, there has never been competition between us, okay?" He kept talking faster, because half of Yao Man's ears were still connected to earphones, and the outstretched joints might move at any time, "I have all your books. I re-read it, and as before, I like everything you write, and I can’t even think of surpassing you.”
Yao Man stopped his restless feet and turned his face to look at him: "Listen to yourself, that's why this marriage won't work. I will never be jealous of you, Shao Bin, but you think everyone I have to revolve around you.”
"Not anymore. I don't plan to arrange any work this year. It all depends on you and Coco. We can travel wherever you want, or you can go to school and write books in peace, and I will provide you with logistical services. Also, Remember we agreed to write a musical together? It’s time to do it!”
Yao Man's face stiffened and he said softly: "That was more than ten years ago."
"Fifteen years!" Shao Bin's excited voice attracted curious looks from others. He took Yao Man's arm outside the building, made sure there was no one around, and continued, "I know, I have behaved very badly in the past fifteen years. It's strange, but that's not the real me. Now everything is back to normal. The person in front of you is still the boy from the piano department who accidentally sat next to you in the Lemuria library. He is a little older, but I am still me. , the Shao Bin who is deeply in love with you and hopes to be loved by you."
He saw that Yao Man's eyes were a little red, but when he looked closely, they became clear again. "I don't know what you're trying to say," she said.
"Have you ever heard of 'time magic'?" Shao Bin pursued his victory, "It is to inject drugs to change the brain's cognitive mechanism of time, making people feel that a certain period of time passes very fast? For example, some people don't want to spend time with a cup of celebrity. If they wait in line for an hour for the best coffee, can’t wait for their graduation exam scores, or can’t stand their nagging when they go back to their parents’ house, they can choose to speed up the experience and subjectively feel that only one second has passed?”
Yao Man nodded, and the rise and fall of his chest gradually calmed down.
"Fifteen years ago, I did it once. In fifteen years, only one and a half hours passed. In other words, in my impression, the chamber orchestra concert at the end of my junior year took place a few days ago. Days ago. Do you still remember that time you said you wanted to go to the theater with someone else, but you ended up coming to listen to my show? The fifteen years after that were the years when we graduated, worked, got married, and had children. It was like I was tied to a bullet and rushed forward at top speed until the day of the Haicheng concert."
"But...why?" Yao Man's voice was barely audible, but Shao Bin read the movement of her lips. "Because I want to be a successful musician. You knew it when we first met. I long for this every moment. It takes years and months of practice. There are no shortcuts. I understand that. But I want to use my own will. I bet, as long as I can survive that period of hard training, let my brain pretend that only an hour and a half has passed, at least it will feel much easier. At that time, this technology had begun to be used commercially, and I won prizes from various competitions. I used the bonus I saved, plus my usual savings, to give it a try. When you came home a few days ago, didn't you think I was in a daze and couldn't remember things? That's because I really just 'woke up'. In fifteen years I generally know everything, but it is inevitable that there will be mistakes and omissions, and there may be many things that are not done carefully... Please give me another chance and let me slowly make up for it in a normal time."
Yao Man flexed his fingers and calculated for a while: "You mean, the remaining year of college is only a few minutes for you?" "The doctor calculated it for me, and one year is 6 minutes." "That all explains it. It works." Yao Man murmured to himself, and Shao Bin just breathed a sigh of relief, but she suddenly took a big step back, "Shao Bin, then I They can no longer go back. " "Why?" "The person I fell in love with and married was you who was absent-minded and running at top speed. I don't know how you did it. Maybe I was just bewitched by my admiration for you and ignored everything else. Just like someone who only knows how to chase the sun. Brilliant, but I forgot that the sun never stops to wait for me, and there is no grass growing anywhere near it... It seems that the critic is right, I was the last one to understand. And Coco, Coco is 7 years old this year , for you, the life you spent with her has only passed 42 minutes. You didn't know you had a daughter until you...how to put it, an hour before you 'wake up'. Our home must seem ridiculous to you, right?"
Before Shao Bin could speak, Yao Man plugged in the other earphone, said "Okay, goodbye", turned around and ran away. Her slender back merged into the crowd, her steps firm, as if she would never look back.
Is this what he got for risking his life? Two days later, Shao Bin sat on the sofa of "Time Magic" and looked at the nameplate of "Dr. Mo Mo, Deputy Director of the Diagnosis and Treatment Department" on his desk, as if he had gone back fifteen years. forward. He once fantasized about being a socialite and being surrounded by doctors and nurses for review. He also admitted that he might just queue up for appointments as an unknown piano teacher. He also considered the possibility of a treatment gone wrong and dedicating himself to science. But the reality made him not know what expression to put on. The clinic that originally had only two floors was transformed into a diagnosis and treatment center occupying a small campus. Bach's Twelve Equal Temperaments recorded by Shao Bin was played gently in the corridor. Trainee responsible for reception and basic inspection Doctor Xiao Mo became the sole director Mo, leaning back in his chair and reading Shao Bin's examination report with a relaxed expression. There were two novels by Yao Man on the bookshelf behind the desk.
"Your brain has basically adapted to the new rhythm. You just can't sleep well. I gave you a sedative." Dr. Mo closed his file. "Psychologically, the divorce makes you unable to accept it for a while. This is normal. When you are busy, I won’t think too much about it.”
"But my home is gone," Shao Bin said. "I can't remember what happened. If anything, I won't forget such a big thing."
"Of course I won't forget that we only affected your perception of time and did not damage other functions. The fact that you have maintained strong creativity over the years is the best proof." Dr. Mo said kindly, "To be honest, we have The product line has been adjusted. The most popular thing now is to slow down the final time for patients who are dying or seriously ill, so that they can enjoy life for a while longer. Long-term accelerated services that have exceeded five years have basically been eliminated. Customers are more or less like you. Too satisfied. Some feel that they have missed an important moment in life, and some wake up and find that reality has not met their expectations. After our return visits, almost no long-term customers are willing to continue to use our services or recommend them to others. Of course, Influenced by the 'King Juan' incident..."
Shao Bin blinked blankly.
"Oh, you may not have noticed. Juan is a party leader in the Guerro country. Fourteen years ago, he took advantage of the nuclear leak that destroyed the capital and came to power to implement a drastic reform plan. He finally got the country back on track in two years. , but because of his arbitrary actions, he was ridiculed as a 'king' by his opponents. Anyway, he wanted to see the fruits of reform quickly, so he asked us to speed up the work for ten years. But two years ago, when he 'woke up', he found He was standing in front of the firing squad of the Revolutionary Army. The reporter dug out the treatment records from his files, and our service was completely associated with bad luck. Except for old customers who have not yet 'woke up', we no longer New applications are being accepted.”
"So many misfortunes must have something in common, right?" Shao Bin regretted not observing for a while, but it was because he didn't want to wait another ten years that he poured out his money to try this project that was at least physiologically safe. novelty.
"Everyone's situation is so different. However, how a person views time will inevitably affect his memory and emotions. Drugs divide your brain into two parts. One part is still working as usual, and the other part must be at extremes. When processing a huge flow of information in a short period of time, information that you think is relatively unimportant will be lost. And the emotions inspired by those small things will not leave you with such a strong reaction. A few customers show up during return visits You have an emotional disorder, so what about your situation..." Dr. Mo looked at the report again, "It's not bad, after all, he is an artist."
"I must have done something. Yao Man left so decisively only because I disappointed her to the extreme."
"I can't help you. Because of your relationship, I also pay close attention to her, but she hasn't revealed anything, at least in public." Dr. Mo took out "Peach Forest" from the bookshelf and flipped through a few pages, "Yes. Yes, I heard that Yao Man won a prize last year to go to the space station to write, but why didn’t he go? Five writers from all over the world were selected, but in the end only four made it.”
Shao Bin had seen this award when searching for Yao Man. It was one of the honors she had received, but Shao Bin thought that she had never been to space, so he forgot about this information. But Dr. Mo was right, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, why not go? If Yao Man mentioned it to him, he would definitely tell her not to worry about family matters, as he is here, so just go without worry. Thinking about it this way, it seemed that he really said this to her.
What then? Shao Bin's next coherent memory was his global tour, followed by the Genius Award, Professor Swann's notice of critical illness, the overnight flight back to Haicheng, and the divorce agreement handed over by Yao Man. He met Dr. Mo's interested gaze, and a terrifying possibility emerged in front of him: he had completely forgotten Yao Man's travel plan.
3
Time flows slowly. It takes half an hour to play half a Hanon, forty-five minutes to get to school from home, an hour and a half to give a piano lesson, three hours of tranquilizer, eyes open on the too-smooth luxury sheets. It takes seven hours to count the seconds.
Shao Bin would make some mistakes every day. A senior girl who was preparing for the Ligeti Grand Prix cried when he interrupted the performance for the fifth time: "But you spoke too fast, I didn't have time to digest it!" The editor of the music appreciation column received his new manuscript. After staying for a long time, he politely replied: "Of course the manuscript is impeccable, but the deadline we agreed on is two months later. I know you are usually busy and don't need to write in such a hurry." He changed his clothes and went out. Running slightly suppressed the nausea-like feeling of motion sickness, but before I knew it, after 30 kilometers, I tripped and fell on the ground. I was so out of breath that passers-by gathered around me to ask questions, and I slowly regained my breath.
His hands and ears were as usual, as if they were completely separated from his body, or had developed some unmistakable instinct, just like the beating of his heart, eating, drinking and urinating. His Mozart is still deft, Chopin is still subtle, and Rachmaninoff is still proud. From the age of 3 to 35, especially since he decided to make a living in music at the age of 14, he spent every waking hour either practicing the piano or thinking about things related to the piano. During the fifteen years of playing at 87,600 times speed, the 88 black and white keys were his constant haven. In comparison, even the ecstasy on the day my daughter was born only ticked by for a second.
At the beginning of summer vacation, Shao Bin flew back to his hometown to see his parents, partly because he couldn't remember a few conversations with his parents in the past fifteen years, and partly because he really couldn't think of what to do during the half day without going to school. "Imagine that you are just a blank slate," he recited Dr. Mo's reminder silently, driving away the scattered notes in his mind, reading his parents' physical examination reports, drinking his mother's chicken soup, and helping his father upgrade the audio-visual system. Lying on the small bed in the bedroom, facing the wall full of awards and photos, he remembered that when he was a teenager, he often fell asleep with the staff on his pillow, wishing that he would have a sudden inspiration in his sleep. Feel free to save a few hours during the day. It would be great if he could immediately enjoy the rewards of his efforts, or at least know quickly whether the efforts have paid off. This was what he had imagined before the "time magic" was declared a success. If he had studied neuroscience, he might have made a career.
"You are really different from before." On the last night in his hometown, he chose a documentary about "King Juan" for his parents. As soon as he sat down, he heard his mother say, "I used to be accompanied by Xiaoman and Coco when I came back." When we were talking, you said hello and went into the piano room. If you were not practicing, you would be catching up on manuscripts and reading books, not to mention walking with us and watching TV. It seems that Xiaoman's departure has changed you a lot." For a whole week, this is She mentioned the divorce to Shao Bin head-on for the first time.
"I don't know if Manman can make up for it, but the time I owe you must be made up for." Shao Bin looked at the middle-aged careerist on the TV screen who was showing various reform bills with his head held high. Under the drumbeat of the opening music, the heroic spirit in Juan's eyes gradually dimmed, and along with the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth and the fat on the back of his neck, he changed into a different look. He turned his back from the fire and the noise, as if it was just a minor friction between neighbors. But in fact, Shao Bin could see that there was no arrogance or indifference on Juan's face as the narrator said. He just didn't know what happened. In his eyes, the scenes that ultimately pointed to his death were just chaos. The nightmare flashed away.
"Xiaoman probably can't be persuaded to come back," said her father. "If it weren't for you, she could have achieved greater success. We have watched over the years, and she always reassures us and says she is very happy. But people After all, your patience is limited."
Maybe it was the failed space trip, or maybe it was his usual arrogant workaholic attitude that his parents said. The damage he unknowingly caused was so great that his parents were reluctant to take his side. Shao Bin buried his chin in his palms, and the stubble that had grown out only lightly touched the calluses on his fingertips, without any tingling sensation. Could it be that his cerebral cortex is also covered with a thick cocoon? After returning to Haicheng, Shao Bin had eaten and drank enough, and the dark circles under his eyes had faded a bit. Lawyer Yao Mantuo sent word that she would take Coco on a trip to Antarctica and come back a month later to arrange a meeting between father and daughter. Master classes, deadlines, and event invitations were once again scheduled in Shao Bin's schedule, but the ending of the documentary lingered in his light sleep - the tyrant in trouble faced the camera as if he had just woken up from a dream. The bright light showed his panic: "Wait a minute, listen to me..." The rows of gun muzzles gave him no time to defend.
Shao Bin pulled out a blank piece of music paper. He wanted to write something for Juan. Only a person who had also experienced time acceleration could touch the deepest part of Juan's sins. Maybe he could use this to prepare himself mentally for the next time he saw Yao Man. At the very least, it would fill the gaps in his schedule and help him get through a month that felt like a year.
"What a great idea!" Dr. Mo jumped up from his seat after hearing his plan, "This way you can experience our optimized new products. I promise, this will be much more comfortable than you last time! Compress a month into one. hours, which is equivalent to living at a speed of 720 times. In terms of physical sense, Not too intense. Moreover, the effect of the injection will be activated by nano-robots, and you can control it at home. The degree of freedom and safety are greatly improved!" His chattering look was just like when we first met in the consulting room fifteen years ago. Exactly the same.
To make a living from music, you must treat time as your friend, whether it is the swing of the metronome or the long life ahead - When the medicine was injected into the body, Shao Bin remembered what Professor Swan often said. Returning to his piano room, he took a sip of water, opened the "Time Magic" user interface, and pressed the "Start" button.
The ticking of the second hand made a loud long sound. His heart was beating wildly as if the motor was at full speed, and there were rapids in his blood vessels, but he did not feel any discomfort. On the contrary, the long-lost vitality made him eject from the piano bench, and the strong wind in his face shattered the tiredness that had clouded his mind in the past few weeks. He watched rows of tadpole-like lines flow out of the tip of the pen. Hurry up, hurry up, just record the rotation of day and night, the reverberation of the voice, and the galloping of the footsteps. Without any modification, it constitutes a wonderful first movement.
He could have lived like this forever. During a routine warm-up by playing Hanon, he suddenly recalled why he kept repeating this outdated basic practice. Not because of Professor Swann's instructions, but because he used this as a coordinate to calibrate himself. When he suddenly stops in the midst of a longing figure and wonders where he is going, this set of melodies engraved in his subconscious will instantly stabilize his center of gravity and remind him that there is no need to worry, time is still moving forward step by step.
A steady female voice is interspersed among the notes that gradually climb and then fall. It turned out that after "waking up", he always felt that something was missing. Every second was filled with silence, which made him uneasy. Now he finally remembered that what he had lost was the voice he had been with day and night for fifteen years.
"Tell me, what would our current moment look like from the stars?" It was after their college graduation dance. Shao Bin put his bachelor's robe on the lawn, rested his head on Yao Man's legs, and looked at her. Reaching out into the darkness. "I want to write something different. People are heading there, truly understanding the universe, and looking back to re-observe the world. We who write stories must also catch up with them, right?... Hey, you I'm distracted again." Shao Bin didn't respond. His eyes were attracted by the sequins on Yao Man's hair, and he immediately stood up and kissed her angry lips.
"Maybe one day, you will be able to go to space and give a concert!" That was shortly after Coco was born. The "Impressions of Classical Piano Masters" series recorded by Shao Bin were accompanied by other earth cultural heritage on the "Arcadia" were sent outside the solar system together. He went home holding a commemorative trophy in the shape of a spaceship. Yao Man, who was still breastfeeding Coco, motioned for him to lend a hand so that she could take the trophy and take a closer look. Shao Bin didn't pay attention to her gesture. The heat wave from the launch site still enveloped his senses. He put the trophy into the glass display cabinet as usual before coming over to tease his daughter. "I really want to see it with my own eyes, but it's a pity that the time this year is so unlucky," Yao Man said with a pout. There is always a chance, Shao Bin thought reflexively, but before he could say anything, Coco's crescent-shaped smiling eyes made him forget what he wanted to say.
"But Keke is still young, you are busy, and there are not many troubles with your parents. I will be gone for more than half a year, so it will definitely not work." It was early last year, and Yao Man's agent sent her the message "Writer in Space Station" Yao Man went through the materials of "Plan" all night long and came to the conclusion with a bit of disappointment. This time Shao Bin caught up and answered: "I just haven't planned for next year, so I can take a break and take care of Coco at home. You have dreamed about it for so long, don't miss it this time. Just leave it to me at home." "Really ?" Yao Man rushed up to hug him, kissed him a few times, and then began to think about the application documents. Shao Bin occasionally helped her check it out, but more often than not he continued his work until he signed a contract for a new round of global tour without hesitation.
"What should I do at home?" That was a few months ago, Yao Man asked quietly while scrolling up and down the posters for global tour options. Shao Bin answered matter-of-factly: "You and Coco are here together, just for a walk around. Come on, help me see which poster is the best?" "Have you forgotten again? Coco has to go to school and can't follow us everywhere anymore. Run away." "Then you'll have to work hard... But I won't perform every day, and I promise to come back as soon as I'm free." Yao Man didn't answer, and her pause seemed a bit awkward even in Shao Bin's accelerated perception. Long. After a long time, she whispered: "Don't promise anything you've never done before." "There is only yourself and your music in your world. I don't want to be a transparent person that you just happen to think of." Yao Man's announcement when he filed for divorce was like a stubborn motive that lingered, disrupting Gallo. The music’s signature unrestrained beat. Shao Bin realized that the song he was writing was not about Juan. Before hearing about his bizarre experience, Shao Bin did not know that this person existed at all. The person who hurriedly dodged under the cigarette bomb was Shao Bin himself. That fat, dull, irrelevant face was exactly what he looked like under the straight shirt.
A month passed, and Shao Bin sat in front of Dr. Mo again. Dr. Mo looked back and forth at his physiological indicators and expressed embarrassment at his new request: "You misunderstood. It doesn't mean that you compressed fifteen years into one and a half hours, and then stretched one and a half hours into fifteen years. It can offset the former result. Our deceleration service is mainly for terminal patients. Which healthy person would actively want to live slower? If you think about it, your one minute will be stretched to 87,600 minutes, that is 1,460 hours. Two months. It feels like weeks just to go to the bathroom!"
"It's only been an hour and a half. I just don't go to the toilet." Shao Bin smiled, "I haven't really seen Coco for seven years since she was born. If I don't hurry up, she will grow up. It's not easy to see her once. I want to be with her She’ll stay a little longer."
"But you accelerated twice in a row and then slowed down again. I'm afraid your body won't be able to bear it." Dr. Mo couldn't sit still anymore, stood up and walked a few steps. "Although your test results are normal, you must rest."
"It feels okay, I'm used to it. Do you think it's dangerous?" "I don't know, no one has tried it. In theory it should be fine, but..." "That's fine."
Shao Bin signed the liability exemption agreement as usual, and listened to Dr. Mo nagging a lot about "Don't go to crowded places", "Don't be impatient if anything happens, take your time, remember it's only an hour and a half", "Keep the time right" "Restart, don't start it too early" and received the injection again.
The date agreed with Yao Man has arrived. Shao Bin walked back and forth at home, wiping the TV screen, hiding the drafts that he had not had time to deal with, arranging the tableware on the table, and glancing at the clock face from time to time. He vaguely remembered Kekei eating ice cream. He didn't know the specific flavor, so he bought everything on the shelf. Yao Man's pre-stored automatic recipes in the kitchen saved him from having to think too much, and he also prepared all the fruits after the meal. This is not a good time to check whether Keke has practiced the piano well. His first priority is to sit down and chat with his daughter and listen to her talk about what classes she took in elementary school, whether she has made any good friends, and whether her mother has met anyone else. Uncle, is there any way to make mom not to be angry with dad again? The doorbell rang, he pressed "open the door" and then lowered his head to activate the medicine in his body.
Time is stuck, tiny floating dust hanging before my eyes, like furniture that hasn’t been moved in years. The door panel rubbed against the ground, making a continuous buzzing sound. Sunlight filled in with the fresh air. If Shao Bin was given a pen, he felt that he could draw the gradually approaching boundaries of light and shadow, as well as the sounds of wind and birdsong outside. A tremor left in the air.
Shao Bin couldn't feel his breathing. There was a gap of nearly half a day between the contraction and contraction of his heart. The state was unclear and the direction was uncertain. It might stop forever at any time until the next pulse awakened the muscles and pumped out heat flow to the surroundings. One day passed, then three days, a week, and half a month. His brain was exhausted, as if he had been dragged to run a marathon after staying up all night, but his eyes were still wide open, his legs were firmly supporting his body, and he was not sleepy at all. Less than a minute had passed, and he reminded himself secretly that the urge to vomit rising from the bottom of his throat was just an illusion. Dr. Mo reiterated to him not to count time, as it would only waste brain power and increase confusion. He tried hard to drive out Dr. Mo's voice and focus on the scene in front of him.
Yao Man held Coco's hand and stood at the door, like an oil painting frozen in an art gallery. Yao Manman is more tanned than when we last met, perhaps because of her trip to Antarctica, and the long-standing gloom between her brows and eyes was completely replaced by an upward vitality. Shao Bin looked up and down expectantly, wanting to see if she would be carrying some token of nostalgia, but her fingers and neck were bare, as if she had returned to the days when she was a carefree student. Coco timidly poked her head out from behind her, her fleshy little hands still holding her mother tightly, and her round eyes staring directly at her father whom she had not seen for a long time. Shao Bin looked at it dreamily. Of course he remembered Coco's growth from a baby to a primary school student. There were also marks on the wall beside the stairs indicating how tall she had grown each year. But Yao Man was right. The child grew up too fast. He only spent 42 minutes with her, and most of that time was occupied by various tasks. This was the first time he could really see clearly. The corners of Coco's mouth were raised little by little, revealing a smile like a little princess. His little princess. "Dad——" Shao Bin saw his daughter's lips closing and opening, uttering a single syllable. Shao Bin almost didn't understand what she was saying. By the time he realized what he was saying, his nose was already blocked by tears. Coco must have called him this countless times, but her weak call was drowned in the overwhelming waves.
Among the notes and noises of the sea he had never heard before. "Dad——" the voice was prolonged. If his mind was clear, Coco's call could last for nearly 24 hours, a whole day. He was enjoying his moment as a father in a daze. If he could hear that "Dad" earlier, would he wake up early, hug his wife and daughter tightly, and tell them that he never left?
He was glad that he was not intimidated by Dr. Mo's warning. How could Dr. Mo understand? Just saying "Dad" would make him happy for a whole day. Then he would have to greet Yao Man and tell her to leave the child here and ask about her writing. Even if Yao Man could only tolerate talking to him for a minute or two, he stayed with him for two or three months, without any hatred or complaints, just as an old friend who rarely got together. When Coco finished his lunch, he could proudly say that he spent more time with Coco than Yao Man. Coco would soon get acquainted with him again, and he saw hope in his daughter's little feet that started to jump forward.
He lifted one leg and stepped out in slow motion. What Yao Man couldn't see was that he was just a single father who missed his daughter and couldn't wait to give his child a hug. She didn't know that he had discovered the source of her anger and was planning to use the stolen fifteen years to figure out a solution. Shao Bin grinned at Yao Man proudly through his blurred eyes. Excited nerve signals coursed up and down his body, making him feel hot all over.
Like a person running at full speed crashing into a brick wall. Shao Bin's breathing was stagnant. He took a breath in the next second, but the next second did not come. The foot he stepped out hit the carpet softly, causing his body to stumble. The other foot was hanging in the air, being pulled downward by gravity. Something broke, and he felt like his brain was about to explode. The blood flowing at an unknown speed would break down the barrier and fill his head cavity.
There is still time, he calculated hastily, at least one month, maybe two months. He raised his neck with all his strength, but Coco froze in mid-way. Yao Man's hands hanging on his sides slowly moved up and moved toward his open mouth. Don't be afraid, just for a little while, and then you can stop worrying about my interruption and start a new life - He wanted to comfort them, but his vocal cords only made hoarse friction.
Yao Man wanted to say something. Her lips were approaching a certain shape, but Shao Bin could tell it before she made a sound. That was the first sound of his name. She would have to read his name for another day or two, hoping he would still be awake by then. Shao Bin stared greedily at the two figures, one large and one small. Even though the colors and outlines had gradually faded, he wanted to write down as much as possible. There is still one month left, and he must cherish the last time he spends with them. (13575 words)
Obviously nobody is obligated to do any work to spoonfeed us monolinguists! But given that the Hugos have historically been Anglophone, it would have been nice to get a *little* more content directed towards us? Not, like, by the concom, who are surely very busy, but just by... someone. By other fans or writers, who do bridge the two language spheres. Articles or essays or interviews in the magazines, introducing these exciting writers to their new Anglosphere Hugo-voter audience. Again, maybe that's out there and I just can't find it. But it feels like a missed opportunity.
Anyways, here's what I've been able to put together about Xin Weimu. (I'm like 95% sure Xin is her surname and Weimu is her personal name, that's the first thing.) She's on Twitter as xinweimu , which I guess is useless now that you need an account to see anything on twitter. She's posted some nonfiction essays here at a site called Sixth Tone, including one about being a danmei reader and author.
There are three stories included in the packet. I've Google-translated the first one, 哈农练指法, which I'm pasting in here behind the cut. Instantaneous machine translation is on the one hand amazing and mindblowing and on the other hand still kind of laborious and annoying to actually do - all the highlighting and copying and pasting and going back to put in the paragraph breaks, and the other two stories are longer (18 and 21 pages vs 14 for this one). I hope to get to them over the next couple days. But here's "Hanon Fingering Practice", about 8700 words, in case there's anyone out there who hasn't already done the Google-translate work themselves but would like to read it if they didn't have to.
辛维木-哈农练指法
Hanon fingering practice
Text | Xin Weimu (published in the July 2021 issue of "Science Fiction Cube")
1
Like a person running at full speed crashing into a brick wall. Shao Bin felt that all the blood in his body was poured into the muscles of his ten fingers, squeezing away the inertia of hitting the keys. The passive pulling sensation of the brain nerves suddenly disappeared. He was as light as if he was flying high, flowing slowly along the air, without using anything. Think without looking or listening. Stopping is an art that requires strength rather than laziness. This is what Dr. Xiao Mo warned him before leaving. It coincides with Professor Swan's daily teachings. Sudden braking will only lead to loss of control and even accidents. A true master knows how to be the master of his own body and hold back his next move without changing his expression. The mushy notes disconnected one by one, swinging back and forth according to some invisible rhythm inside the body. Duomi, la, shu, mi/lai, shu, lasila, shufa/mi, lassi, dosi, shu... 108 keys per minute turns out to be so slow. He suppressed a yawn, let his fingers continue to rise and fall, and raised his head to look around the piano room. This is not his first time here. Every six minutes, he has to flash here for only two or three seconds, but he remembers the signs of "Haicheng Concert Hall" that can be seen everywhere, the fragrance of lilies that permeates the entire building, and the... After the piano room door opened, the stage manager's voice sounded as usual: "Professor Shao, there is only one hour until the performance starts."
"Okay, I'll warm up." He said, surprised by the weight of his vocal cords. Has he always talked like this? He tried to recall the last words he said an hour and a half ago. It should have been on the bed in the "Time Magic" clinic. He closed his eyes and murmured to himself in front of the smiles of the doctors. He said: "If everything goes well, I'll see you in fifteen years." It was the voice of a 20-year-old young man who had spent all his savings, with a bit of arrogance and idleness that was not afraid of death. A lot of things happened later, and he couldn't remember them all. Anyway, events big and small and people he would never see again whizzed by, but just like the Hanon exercise between his fingers, everything was just moving forward smoothly at the original speed.
"I went back to listen to your lecture on Alumni Day last year. You said that if you play half a Hanon every day, you can technically reach the standard of a pianist. It's a pity that I listened too late. Seeing you practice the piano without hesitation time and time again is really a lesson from experience. Let’s talk.” The stage manager leaned against the door with his hands folded.
Shao Bin did not stop and stayed for a long time. When the dizziness under his temples dissipated, he got used to the speed of speaking word by word: "Oh, you can't lose the basic skills. If you practice them too much, they will become muscle memory. But be careful, just rely on the conditions. If you use reflexes to control your hands, you will lose your emotional focus and flexibility." He was a little surprised that he could still talk to people normally like this, but then he thought about it, he had been able to live peacefully for fifteen years now instead of Being thrown into a mental hospital shows that he is much stronger than he thought.
"You are always so considerate. You are indeed a genius of our time! ... No need to interrupt, you can continue." The stage manager said with a smile, and gently closed the door. Her sudden compliment made Shao Bin frown: Genius? Only then did he see the poster on the screen at the door, a stranger who looks very much like himself, with the title "Genius Award Winner Returns: Shao Bin Piano Recital" above his head, and the muse on the trophy beside him spreading her wings. Oh, he remembered. Just a minute ago, he was holding a heavy solid gold trophy and was blinded by the flashing lights. Then came the interviews and parties one after another. He kept repeating polite words and how he determined to become a piano player. How can we squeeze out time from performances and teaching to create appreciation programs and bring the tranquility and wit of classical music back to the spiritual world of mass consumers? The fixed answer is like the up and down scratching of the keyboard. You can't hear it clearly but you can write it down in music notation, leaving a painful feeling on your fingernails.
He looked at the poster again, then at the reflection in the piano's paint. Well, this is really him at the age of 35. His figure is stronger than before, lines have begun to appear at the corners of his eyes, and the bangs on his forehead are not very successful in covering the receding hairline. In any case, he should have earned it. His 20-year-old self would be happy to see what he is now. Even if he has any complaints, the genius trophy that rewards artistic innovation and public service and is coveted by creators around the world will at least satisfy him. ——Of course, it would be better if he could wake up on the day of the Genius Award and slowly savor the glory of the past two months. But people can't be too greedy.
Shao Bin walked through the backstage corridor with familiarity. He didn't need to read the signs, and his feet moved forward before his brain. Seeing only a spotlight shining on the piano in the dark concert hall, he smiled, as if he was reunited with his long-lost family. The last time he really stepped onto this stage was when he was 17 years old. He won third place in the final of the Ligeti International Piano Grand Prix. Then he met Professor Swann, who was a judge, and was recommended to Limo Ligeti in Haicheng. Maria University School of Music. At that time, the Haicheng Concert Hall still had an old-fashioned air, and the layout was not as spacious as it is now.
Applause, playing, and cheering, he had dreamed of making a living from this when he was young. Not only that, he dreamed of being bathed in lights and cheers and still being known after his death. Now, he bows deeply in the audience's call for his seventh encore. The honors he shared with the top filmmakers, writers, producers, and painters from all over the world are printed on the venue catalog. The sponsorship nameplate of the charity classroom in the concert hall is engraved with " With his name on his name, the university where he once lived became his hometown where he commuted to and from work as a visiting professor.
"Success cannot be rushed." He recalled that on the first day he registered in Lemuria, Professor Swan poured cold water on him, "You have talent, but you still need more practice than you can endure. And the unbearable setbacks, especially your impatience, you have to change. Otherwise, you are at most an excellent performer, but you can obviously do better." Not enough, not enough, not enough. Every time they met, Professor Swann's tense expression and deep tone always left Shao Bin at a loss. Finally, when Shao Bin held the A- final transcript and asked why he was targeted when he was admitted, Professor Swan gave a mysterious answer: "What you need is time."
He has time now. Shao Bin looked for Professor Swann in the bright auditorium. If I remember correctly, every year he returned to Haicheng to perform, Professor Swann would sit in the second box on the left side of the second floor, nodding slightly behind his gold-rimmed glasses. , bowed and left before the applause stopped, and went backstage to greet him with a hug. But the usual seat was empty, and a slightly stout old woman was looking down and turning around.
As soon as his joy came to his mind, he was interrupted by a sharp pain. Images of coffins, flowers, and people in black flashed quickly before his eyes. Yes, Professor Swann on the hospital bed was like an unreal photo, imprinted in his memory. He hurriedly flew back to Haicheng without attending the farewell dinner of the "Genius Award Art Week". The two seconds he spent composing the requiem for Professor Swann felt like a full 48 hours. In the cemetery, although he just touched his wife's hands in comfort, the trembling warmth still remained on his fingertips.
He also forgot about one person, the woman in a black dress, turning her face away and sobbing. He reached out to put his hand on her shoulder, but she took a small step to the side... Shao Bin woke up from a dream and looked towards the first row of the concert hall. The VIPs who paid a lot of money were dressed in fine clothes. Among them were A few familiar faces who often come to his concerts. The little girl who always blew him a kiss was gone, and two burgundy soft chairs stood side by side staring at him. But they were coming every time. He was so stunned that he didn't notice that the curtain had begun to lower slowly. "Professor Shao! Professor Shao!" The stage manager called him in a low voice several times before he came back to his senses, bowed again, and strode away.
The speed limit in the urban area is 60 kilometers per hour. Shao Bin stared at the dashboard of the automatic car without blinking, but he still couldn't keep his eyes on the needle to turn half a minute to the right. His heart was beating wildly, not because of the illusion of remaining inertia, but because it really exceeded the normal value, making his face turn red. He had never been so anxious to rush to a place. He clenched his fists and couldn't help but smile.
How could he forget that? He had spent most of the past fifteen years with Yao Man, but after all, the last time he took a closer look at Yao Man was exactly fifteen years ago - when he invited her to watch music For the final performance of the college's chamber music workshop, Yao Man said apologetically that he had already made an appointment with his classmates from the literature department to go out to watch a play. That night, Shao Bin was standing by the stage with his head bowed, waiting for the performance, but the side door of the auditorium suddenly opened. Yao Man poked his head in and looked around, then walked straight towards him, smiling and nodding. When she found an empty seat and sat down, her breathing was still a little rapid, and the broken hair on her temples was stuck to her skin with sweat. He originally wanted to come find her after the show, but was dragged directly to the bar by his friends from the band. The day after that concert was the injection time scheduled by Shao Bin and Dr. Xiao Mo. After filling out more than ten pages of questionnaires and signing and confirming them, he looked at the row of medicine tubes beside the bed anxiously, and still couldn't hold it in: "What do you like? What about the girl? Can I still be with her fifteen years later?”
Doctor Xiao Mo put on his gloves with a smile: "Do you think I am a fortune teller? I can't guarantee that. In fifteen years, you will still live your life day by day. Our job is just to make this day feel better. It’s just that long. Whether you can be with her, just like whether you can become a great musician, depends on your determination."
Familiar scenes gather together little by little like snowflakes, forming intermittent but at least recognizable shapes. Yao Man’s dimples when he laughed, the thin voice at the poetry reading, the tender kiss, the white gauze dancing in the sun, home, the little body wrinkled by amniotic fluid... An hour and a half ago, he was still... I was hesitating whether to regard the campus love that had not yet begun as a lifelong commitment, but unknowingly, he was probably the worst husband in the world. In order to find out what happened between him and Yao Man, Shao Bin actually opened the search engine and entered his wife's name.
In the next few days, while wandering alone in an empty house or going to teach at the University of Lemuria, Shao Bin would always lower his head and scroll through the screens. When someone greeted him on the road, he just waved and didn't care who they were. He read Yao Man's novels and essays, collected reports about her, and saved every photo of her, as if he was getting to know a stranger from scratch.
Needless to say, Yao Man, who studied literature in Lemuria, also succeeded. Even though she didn't win any "genius award", she was steadily producing works, attending book launches, and premieres. Her profile picture sometimes appears on lists such as "Young Writers You Must Know" and "Top Ten Emerging Cross-Border Artists". Her long hair is casually tied up, her slightly parted lips are not smiling, and her eyes look like two The black hole that threatens to suck in everything around it flickers in the deep distance. "There's a sense of oppression" and "terrible", that's what the boys in the school said back then, but Shao Bin could always read some kind of outward force from her inward chin. Just like now, when he looked at When he touched her face, her whole body felt warm unconsciously.
Reading Yao Man's words is like picking up those old books that I read in my childhood, the young artists who met and fell in love on campus, the children who were awakened by the dinosaurs in their nightmares, the old craftsmen who were defeated by machine algorithms... Every name would open a secret room in Shao Bin's mind that he had never noticed before. He knew each of them, but upon closer inspection, each one was different from his impression. He could even hear Yao Man's explaining voice. At the dinner table, during walks, and after turning off the lights, she shared new ideas with him, either hesitating or out of breath. Shao Bin didn't know He answered in the same way, but her tone and rhythm finally turned into the notes under his hands.
"Dedicated to Yao Man," he pulled out this draft from the pile of music scores. The date marked with the pen was ten years ago, as a gift for their first wedding anniversary. Later, this set of musical scores was published and became his first attempt at composing. Ten years ago, that is, an hour ago, those should have been his happiest minutes. On stage, every time his expression began to relax and his fingers began to jump, that moment of joy would be released from his subconscious and join the overexcited muscle reflexes.
Yao Man didn't even take this away. What made her so angry? The last time she publicly mentioned Shao Bin was in an interview about the new novel "Peach Forest" at the beginning of the year. Like every interview in recent years, the reporter asked her about her feelings as a "famous musician's wife", especially in such a modern story that uses "Kuafu chasing the sun", the protagonist is constantly chasing the sun. Until death, is there any correspondence from life? Book reviewers put forward two interpretations. One is that she is writing about Shao Bin's pursuit of music, and the other is that she is writing about her own pursuit of Shao Bin's achievements. Which one is closer to reality? Yao Yao Mann's answer was simple: there was no need to guess, she just wanted to write an interesting story.
Well said, Shao Bin secretly cheered her up. She was always compared to her husband and judged to be inferior every time. No wonder she was unhappy. There is no comparison between music and literature. To be honest, this is clearly the best combination. When he and Yao Man first met, they often bumped into each other at school concerts and literature lectures. After getting acquainted, they half-jokingly talked about how to collaborate: they could write a musical together. Every time I make a meal appointment in the cafeteria, their topics always end up here - Yao Man writes lyrics, Shao Bin writes music, plot is a big problem, they don't understand life outside campus yet, hey, think about it again.
That was before Shao Bin stepped into the "Time Magic" clinic. Later, he couldn't remember that he and Yao Man had written anything together. Yao Man probably mentioned it a few times, but Shao Bin was too busy. It was enough for him to stay sane during those days and nights on steroids.
Shao Bin found the address of Yao Man's new home in a folder called "Divorce Matters." After the online meeting about recording the new album, he hurried away without eating. He remembered that they had visited the house together, and that the two of them would come here for retreat if they were in a hurry to catch up on work. Looking at the terms of the divorce agreement, it was assigned to Yao Man.
His biometric information was deleted, and Shao Bin wandered around the lobby of the apartment for a long time. It was not until dark that he waited for Yao Man, who came downstairs for a jog. "Don't care what they say, there has never been competition between us, okay?" He kept talking faster, because half of Yao Man's ears were still connected to earphones, and the outstretched joints might move at any time, "I have all your books. I re-read it, and as before, I like everything you write, and I can’t even think of surpassing you.”
Yao Man stopped his restless feet and turned his face to look at him: "Listen to yourself, that's why this marriage won't work. I will never be jealous of you, Shao Bin, but you think everyone I have to revolve around you.”
"Not anymore. I don't plan to arrange any work this year. It all depends on you and Coco. We can travel wherever you want, or you can go to school and write books in peace, and I will provide you with logistical services. Also, Remember we agreed to write a musical together? It’s time to do it!”
Yao Man's face stiffened and he said softly: "That was more than ten years ago."
"Fifteen years!" Shao Bin's excited voice attracted curious looks from others. He took Yao Man's arm outside the building, made sure there was no one around, and continued, "I know, I have behaved very badly in the past fifteen years. It's strange, but that's not the real me. Now everything is back to normal. The person in front of you is still the boy from the piano department who accidentally sat next to you in the Lemuria library. He is a little older, but I am still me. , the Shao Bin who is deeply in love with you and hopes to be loved by you."
He saw that Yao Man's eyes were a little red, but when he looked closely, they became clear again. "I don't know what you're trying to say," she said.
"Have you ever heard of 'time magic'?" Shao Bin pursued his victory, "It is to inject drugs to change the brain's cognitive mechanism of time, making people feel that a certain period of time passes very fast? For example, some people don't want to spend time with a cup of celebrity. If they wait in line for an hour for the best coffee, can’t wait for their graduation exam scores, or can’t stand their nagging when they go back to their parents’ house, they can choose to speed up the experience and subjectively feel that only one second has passed?”
Yao Man nodded, and the rise and fall of his chest gradually calmed down.
"Fifteen years ago, I did it once. In fifteen years, only one and a half hours passed. In other words, in my impression, the chamber orchestra concert at the end of my junior year took place a few days ago. Days ago. Do you still remember that time you said you wanted to go to the theater with someone else, but you ended up coming to listen to my show? The fifteen years after that were the years when we graduated, worked, got married, and had children. It was like I was tied to a bullet and rushed forward at top speed until the day of the Haicheng concert."
"But...why?" Yao Man's voice was barely audible, but Shao Bin read the movement of her lips. "Because I want to be a successful musician. You knew it when we first met. I long for this every moment. It takes years and months of practice. There are no shortcuts. I understand that. But I want to use my own will. I bet, as long as I can survive that period of hard training, let my brain pretend that only an hour and a half has passed, at least it will feel much easier. At that time, this technology had begun to be used commercially, and I won prizes from various competitions. I used the bonus I saved, plus my usual savings, to give it a try. When you came home a few days ago, didn't you think I was in a daze and couldn't remember things? That's because I really just 'woke up'. In fifteen years I generally know everything, but it is inevitable that there will be mistakes and omissions, and there may be many things that are not done carefully... Please give me another chance and let me slowly make up for it in a normal time."
Yao Man flexed his fingers and calculated for a while: "You mean, the remaining year of college is only a few minutes for you?" "The doctor calculated it for me, and one year is 6 minutes." "That all explains it. It works." Yao Man murmured to himself, and Shao Bin just breathed a sigh of relief, but she suddenly took a big step back, "Shao Bin, then I They can no longer go back. " "Why?" "The person I fell in love with and married was you who was absent-minded and running at top speed. I don't know how you did it. Maybe I was just bewitched by my admiration for you and ignored everything else. Just like someone who only knows how to chase the sun. Brilliant, but I forgot that the sun never stops to wait for me, and there is no grass growing anywhere near it... It seems that the critic is right, I was the last one to understand. And Coco, Coco is 7 years old this year , for you, the life you spent with her has only passed 42 minutes. You didn't know you had a daughter until you...how to put it, an hour before you 'wake up'. Our home must seem ridiculous to you, right?"
Before Shao Bin could speak, Yao Man plugged in the other earphone, said "Okay, goodbye", turned around and ran away. Her slender back merged into the crowd, her steps firm, as if she would never look back.
Is this what he got for risking his life? Two days later, Shao Bin sat on the sofa of "Time Magic" and looked at the nameplate of "Dr. Mo Mo, Deputy Director of the Diagnosis and Treatment Department" on his desk, as if he had gone back fifteen years. forward. He once fantasized about being a socialite and being surrounded by doctors and nurses for review. He also admitted that he might just queue up for appointments as an unknown piano teacher. He also considered the possibility of a treatment gone wrong and dedicating himself to science. But the reality made him not know what expression to put on. The clinic that originally had only two floors was transformed into a diagnosis and treatment center occupying a small campus. Bach's Twelve Equal Temperaments recorded by Shao Bin was played gently in the corridor. Trainee responsible for reception and basic inspection Doctor Xiao Mo became the sole director Mo, leaning back in his chair and reading Shao Bin's examination report with a relaxed expression. There were two novels by Yao Man on the bookshelf behind the desk.
"Your brain has basically adapted to the new rhythm. You just can't sleep well. I gave you a sedative." Dr. Mo closed his file. "Psychologically, the divorce makes you unable to accept it for a while. This is normal. When you are busy, I won’t think too much about it.”
"But my home is gone," Shao Bin said. "I can't remember what happened. If anything, I won't forget such a big thing."
"Of course I won't forget that we only affected your perception of time and did not damage other functions. The fact that you have maintained strong creativity over the years is the best proof." Dr. Mo said kindly, "To be honest, we have The product line has been adjusted. The most popular thing now is to slow down the final time for patients who are dying or seriously ill, so that they can enjoy life for a while longer. Long-term accelerated services that have exceeded five years have basically been eliminated. Customers are more or less like you. Too satisfied. Some feel that they have missed an important moment in life, and some wake up and find that reality has not met their expectations. After our return visits, almost no long-term customers are willing to continue to use our services or recommend them to others. Of course, Influenced by the 'King Juan' incident..."
Shao Bin blinked blankly.
"Oh, you may not have noticed. Juan is a party leader in the Guerro country. Fourteen years ago, he took advantage of the nuclear leak that destroyed the capital and came to power to implement a drastic reform plan. He finally got the country back on track in two years. , but because of his arbitrary actions, he was ridiculed as a 'king' by his opponents. Anyway, he wanted to see the fruits of reform quickly, so he asked us to speed up the work for ten years. But two years ago, when he 'woke up', he found He was standing in front of the firing squad of the Revolutionary Army. The reporter dug out the treatment records from his files, and our service was completely associated with bad luck. Except for old customers who have not yet 'woke up', we no longer New applications are being accepted.”
"So many misfortunes must have something in common, right?" Shao Bin regretted not observing for a while, but it was because he didn't want to wait another ten years that he poured out his money to try this project that was at least physiologically safe. novelty.
"Everyone's situation is so different. However, how a person views time will inevitably affect his memory and emotions. Drugs divide your brain into two parts. One part is still working as usual, and the other part must be at extremes. When processing a huge flow of information in a short period of time, information that you think is relatively unimportant will be lost. And the emotions inspired by those small things will not leave you with such a strong reaction. A few customers show up during return visits You have an emotional disorder, so what about your situation..." Dr. Mo looked at the report again, "It's not bad, after all, he is an artist."
"I must have done something. Yao Man left so decisively only because I disappointed her to the extreme."
"I can't help you. Because of your relationship, I also pay close attention to her, but she hasn't revealed anything, at least in public." Dr. Mo took out "Peach Forest" from the bookshelf and flipped through a few pages, "Yes. Yes, I heard that Yao Man won a prize last year to go to the space station to write, but why didn’t he go? Five writers from all over the world were selected, but in the end only four made it.”
Shao Bin had seen this award when searching for Yao Man. It was one of the honors she had received, but Shao Bin thought that she had never been to space, so he forgot about this information. But Dr. Mo was right, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, why not go? If Yao Man mentioned it to him, he would definitely tell her not to worry about family matters, as he is here, so just go without worry. Thinking about it this way, it seemed that he really said this to her.
What then? Shao Bin's next coherent memory was his global tour, followed by the Genius Award, Professor Swann's notice of critical illness, the overnight flight back to Haicheng, and the divorce agreement handed over by Yao Man. He met Dr. Mo's interested gaze, and a terrifying possibility emerged in front of him: he had completely forgotten Yao Man's travel plan.
3
Time flows slowly. It takes half an hour to play half a Hanon, forty-five minutes to get to school from home, an hour and a half to give a piano lesson, three hours of tranquilizer, eyes open on the too-smooth luxury sheets. It takes seven hours to count the seconds.
Shao Bin would make some mistakes every day. A senior girl who was preparing for the Ligeti Grand Prix cried when he interrupted the performance for the fifth time: "But you spoke too fast, I didn't have time to digest it!" The editor of the music appreciation column received his new manuscript. After staying for a long time, he politely replied: "Of course the manuscript is impeccable, but the deadline we agreed on is two months later. I know you are usually busy and don't need to write in such a hurry." He changed his clothes and went out. Running slightly suppressed the nausea-like feeling of motion sickness, but before I knew it, after 30 kilometers, I tripped and fell on the ground. I was so out of breath that passers-by gathered around me to ask questions, and I slowly regained my breath.
His hands and ears were as usual, as if they were completely separated from his body, or had developed some unmistakable instinct, just like the beating of his heart, eating, drinking and urinating. His Mozart is still deft, Chopin is still subtle, and Rachmaninoff is still proud. From the age of 3 to 35, especially since he decided to make a living in music at the age of 14, he spent every waking hour either practicing the piano or thinking about things related to the piano. During the fifteen years of playing at 87,600 times speed, the 88 black and white keys were his constant haven. In comparison, even the ecstasy on the day my daughter was born only ticked by for a second.
At the beginning of summer vacation, Shao Bin flew back to his hometown to see his parents, partly because he couldn't remember a few conversations with his parents in the past fifteen years, and partly because he really couldn't think of what to do during the half day without going to school. "Imagine that you are just a blank slate," he recited Dr. Mo's reminder silently, driving away the scattered notes in his mind, reading his parents' physical examination reports, drinking his mother's chicken soup, and helping his father upgrade the audio-visual system. Lying on the small bed in the bedroom, facing the wall full of awards and photos, he remembered that when he was a teenager, he often fell asleep with the staff on his pillow, wishing that he would have a sudden inspiration in his sleep. Feel free to save a few hours during the day. It would be great if he could immediately enjoy the rewards of his efforts, or at least know quickly whether the efforts have paid off. This was what he had imagined before the "time magic" was declared a success. If he had studied neuroscience, he might have made a career.
"You are really different from before." On the last night in his hometown, he chose a documentary about "King Juan" for his parents. As soon as he sat down, he heard his mother say, "I used to be accompanied by Xiaoman and Coco when I came back." When we were talking, you said hello and went into the piano room. If you were not practicing, you would be catching up on manuscripts and reading books, not to mention walking with us and watching TV. It seems that Xiaoman's departure has changed you a lot." For a whole week, this is She mentioned the divorce to Shao Bin head-on for the first time.
"I don't know if Manman can make up for it, but the time I owe you must be made up for." Shao Bin looked at the middle-aged careerist on the TV screen who was showing various reform bills with his head held high. Under the drumbeat of the opening music, the heroic spirit in Juan's eyes gradually dimmed, and along with the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth and the fat on the back of his neck, he changed into a different look. He turned his back from the fire and the noise, as if it was just a minor friction between neighbors. But in fact, Shao Bin could see that there was no arrogance or indifference on Juan's face as the narrator said. He just didn't know what happened. In his eyes, the scenes that ultimately pointed to his death were just chaos. The nightmare flashed away.
"Xiaoman probably can't be persuaded to come back," said her father. "If it weren't for you, she could have achieved greater success. We have watched over the years, and she always reassures us and says she is very happy. But people After all, your patience is limited."
Maybe it was the failed space trip, or maybe it was his usual arrogant workaholic attitude that his parents said. The damage he unknowingly caused was so great that his parents were reluctant to take his side. Shao Bin buried his chin in his palms, and the stubble that had grown out only lightly touched the calluses on his fingertips, without any tingling sensation. Could it be that his cerebral cortex is also covered with a thick cocoon? After returning to Haicheng, Shao Bin had eaten and drank enough, and the dark circles under his eyes had faded a bit. Lawyer Yao Mantuo sent word that she would take Coco on a trip to Antarctica and come back a month later to arrange a meeting between father and daughter. Master classes, deadlines, and event invitations were once again scheduled in Shao Bin's schedule, but the ending of the documentary lingered in his light sleep - the tyrant in trouble faced the camera as if he had just woken up from a dream. The bright light showed his panic: "Wait a minute, listen to me..." The rows of gun muzzles gave him no time to defend.
Shao Bin pulled out a blank piece of music paper. He wanted to write something for Juan. Only a person who had also experienced time acceleration could touch the deepest part of Juan's sins. Maybe he could use this to prepare himself mentally for the next time he saw Yao Man. At the very least, it would fill the gaps in his schedule and help him get through a month that felt like a year.
"What a great idea!" Dr. Mo jumped up from his seat after hearing his plan, "This way you can experience our optimized new products. I promise, this will be much more comfortable than you last time! Compress a month into one. hours, which is equivalent to living at a speed of 720 times. In terms of physical sense, Not too intense. Moreover, the effect of the injection will be activated by nano-robots, and you can control it at home. The degree of freedom and safety are greatly improved!" His chattering look was just like when we first met in the consulting room fifteen years ago. Exactly the same.
To make a living from music, you must treat time as your friend, whether it is the swing of the metronome or the long life ahead - When the medicine was injected into the body, Shao Bin remembered what Professor Swan often said. Returning to his piano room, he took a sip of water, opened the "Time Magic" user interface, and pressed the "Start" button.
The ticking of the second hand made a loud long sound. His heart was beating wildly as if the motor was at full speed, and there were rapids in his blood vessels, but he did not feel any discomfort. On the contrary, the long-lost vitality made him eject from the piano bench, and the strong wind in his face shattered the tiredness that had clouded his mind in the past few weeks. He watched rows of tadpole-like lines flow out of the tip of the pen. Hurry up, hurry up, just record the rotation of day and night, the reverberation of the voice, and the galloping of the footsteps. Without any modification, it constitutes a wonderful first movement.
He could have lived like this forever. During a routine warm-up by playing Hanon, he suddenly recalled why he kept repeating this outdated basic practice. Not because of Professor Swann's instructions, but because he used this as a coordinate to calibrate himself. When he suddenly stops in the midst of a longing figure and wonders where he is going, this set of melodies engraved in his subconscious will instantly stabilize his center of gravity and remind him that there is no need to worry, time is still moving forward step by step.
A steady female voice is interspersed among the notes that gradually climb and then fall. It turned out that after "waking up", he always felt that something was missing. Every second was filled with silence, which made him uneasy. Now he finally remembered that what he had lost was the voice he had been with day and night for fifteen years.
"Tell me, what would our current moment look like from the stars?" It was after their college graduation dance. Shao Bin put his bachelor's robe on the lawn, rested his head on Yao Man's legs, and looked at her. Reaching out into the darkness. "I want to write something different. People are heading there, truly understanding the universe, and looking back to re-observe the world. We who write stories must also catch up with them, right?... Hey, you I'm distracted again." Shao Bin didn't respond. His eyes were attracted by the sequins on Yao Man's hair, and he immediately stood up and kissed her angry lips.
"Maybe one day, you will be able to go to space and give a concert!" That was shortly after Coco was born. The "Impressions of Classical Piano Masters" series recorded by Shao Bin were accompanied by other earth cultural heritage on the "Arcadia" were sent outside the solar system together. He went home holding a commemorative trophy in the shape of a spaceship. Yao Man, who was still breastfeeding Coco, motioned for him to lend a hand so that she could take the trophy and take a closer look. Shao Bin didn't pay attention to her gesture. The heat wave from the launch site still enveloped his senses. He put the trophy into the glass display cabinet as usual before coming over to tease his daughter. "I really want to see it with my own eyes, but it's a pity that the time this year is so unlucky," Yao Man said with a pout. There is always a chance, Shao Bin thought reflexively, but before he could say anything, Coco's crescent-shaped smiling eyes made him forget what he wanted to say.
"But Keke is still young, you are busy, and there are not many troubles with your parents. I will be gone for more than half a year, so it will definitely not work." It was early last year, and Yao Man's agent sent her the message "Writer in Space Station" Yao Man went through the materials of "Plan" all night long and came to the conclusion with a bit of disappointment. This time Shao Bin caught up and answered: "I just haven't planned for next year, so I can take a break and take care of Coco at home. You have dreamed about it for so long, don't miss it this time. Just leave it to me at home." "Really ?" Yao Man rushed up to hug him, kissed him a few times, and then began to think about the application documents. Shao Bin occasionally helped her check it out, but more often than not he continued his work until he signed a contract for a new round of global tour without hesitation.
"What should I do at home?" That was a few months ago, Yao Man asked quietly while scrolling up and down the posters for global tour options. Shao Bin answered matter-of-factly: "You and Coco are here together, just for a walk around. Come on, help me see which poster is the best?" "Have you forgotten again? Coco has to go to school and can't follow us everywhere anymore. Run away." "Then you'll have to work hard... But I won't perform every day, and I promise to come back as soon as I'm free." Yao Man didn't answer, and her pause seemed a bit awkward even in Shao Bin's accelerated perception. Long. After a long time, she whispered: "Don't promise anything you've never done before." "There is only yourself and your music in your world. I don't want to be a transparent person that you just happen to think of." Yao Man's announcement when he filed for divorce was like a stubborn motive that lingered, disrupting Gallo. The music’s signature unrestrained beat. Shao Bin realized that the song he was writing was not about Juan. Before hearing about his bizarre experience, Shao Bin did not know that this person existed at all. The person who hurriedly dodged under the cigarette bomb was Shao Bin himself. That fat, dull, irrelevant face was exactly what he looked like under the straight shirt.
A month passed, and Shao Bin sat in front of Dr. Mo again. Dr. Mo looked back and forth at his physiological indicators and expressed embarrassment at his new request: "You misunderstood. It doesn't mean that you compressed fifteen years into one and a half hours, and then stretched one and a half hours into fifteen years. It can offset the former result. Our deceleration service is mainly for terminal patients. Which healthy person would actively want to live slower? If you think about it, your one minute will be stretched to 87,600 minutes, that is 1,460 hours. Two months. It feels like weeks just to go to the bathroom!"
"It's only been an hour and a half. I just don't go to the toilet." Shao Bin smiled, "I haven't really seen Coco for seven years since she was born. If I don't hurry up, she will grow up. It's not easy to see her once. I want to be with her She’ll stay a little longer."
"But you accelerated twice in a row and then slowed down again. I'm afraid your body won't be able to bear it." Dr. Mo couldn't sit still anymore, stood up and walked a few steps. "Although your test results are normal, you must rest."
"It feels okay, I'm used to it. Do you think it's dangerous?" "I don't know, no one has tried it. In theory it should be fine, but..." "That's fine."
Shao Bin signed the liability exemption agreement as usual, and listened to Dr. Mo nagging a lot about "Don't go to crowded places", "Don't be impatient if anything happens, take your time, remember it's only an hour and a half", "Keep the time right" "Restart, don't start it too early" and received the injection again.
The date agreed with Yao Man has arrived. Shao Bin walked back and forth at home, wiping the TV screen, hiding the drafts that he had not had time to deal with, arranging the tableware on the table, and glancing at the clock face from time to time. He vaguely remembered Kekei eating ice cream. He didn't know the specific flavor, so he bought everything on the shelf. Yao Man's pre-stored automatic recipes in the kitchen saved him from having to think too much, and he also prepared all the fruits after the meal. This is not a good time to check whether Keke has practiced the piano well. His first priority is to sit down and chat with his daughter and listen to her talk about what classes she took in elementary school, whether she has made any good friends, and whether her mother has met anyone else. Uncle, is there any way to make mom not to be angry with dad again? The doorbell rang, he pressed "open the door" and then lowered his head to activate the medicine in his body.
Time is stuck, tiny floating dust hanging before my eyes, like furniture that hasn’t been moved in years. The door panel rubbed against the ground, making a continuous buzzing sound. Sunlight filled in with the fresh air. If Shao Bin was given a pen, he felt that he could draw the gradually approaching boundaries of light and shadow, as well as the sounds of wind and birdsong outside. A tremor left in the air.
Shao Bin couldn't feel his breathing. There was a gap of nearly half a day between the contraction and contraction of his heart. The state was unclear and the direction was uncertain. It might stop forever at any time until the next pulse awakened the muscles and pumped out heat flow to the surroundings. One day passed, then three days, a week, and half a month. His brain was exhausted, as if he had been dragged to run a marathon after staying up all night, but his eyes were still wide open, his legs were firmly supporting his body, and he was not sleepy at all. Less than a minute had passed, and he reminded himself secretly that the urge to vomit rising from the bottom of his throat was just an illusion. Dr. Mo reiterated to him not to count time, as it would only waste brain power and increase confusion. He tried hard to drive out Dr. Mo's voice and focus on the scene in front of him.
Yao Man held Coco's hand and stood at the door, like an oil painting frozen in an art gallery. Yao Manman is more tanned than when we last met, perhaps because of her trip to Antarctica, and the long-standing gloom between her brows and eyes was completely replaced by an upward vitality. Shao Bin looked up and down expectantly, wanting to see if she would be carrying some token of nostalgia, but her fingers and neck were bare, as if she had returned to the days when she was a carefree student. Coco timidly poked her head out from behind her, her fleshy little hands still holding her mother tightly, and her round eyes staring directly at her father whom she had not seen for a long time. Shao Bin looked at it dreamily. Of course he remembered Coco's growth from a baby to a primary school student. There were also marks on the wall beside the stairs indicating how tall she had grown each year. But Yao Man was right. The child grew up too fast. He only spent 42 minutes with her, and most of that time was occupied by various tasks. This was the first time he could really see clearly. The corners of Coco's mouth were raised little by little, revealing a smile like a little princess. His little princess. "Dad——" Shao Bin saw his daughter's lips closing and opening, uttering a single syllable. Shao Bin almost didn't understand what she was saying. By the time he realized what he was saying, his nose was already blocked by tears. Coco must have called him this countless times, but her weak call was drowned in the overwhelming waves.
Among the notes and noises of the sea he had never heard before. "Dad——" the voice was prolonged. If his mind was clear, Coco's call could last for nearly 24 hours, a whole day. He was enjoying his moment as a father in a daze. If he could hear that "Dad" earlier, would he wake up early, hug his wife and daughter tightly, and tell them that he never left?
He was glad that he was not intimidated by Dr. Mo's warning. How could Dr. Mo understand? Just saying "Dad" would make him happy for a whole day. Then he would have to greet Yao Man and tell her to leave the child here and ask about her writing. Even if Yao Man could only tolerate talking to him for a minute or two, he stayed with him for two or three months, without any hatred or complaints, just as an old friend who rarely got together. When Coco finished his lunch, he could proudly say that he spent more time with Coco than Yao Man. Coco would soon get acquainted with him again, and he saw hope in his daughter's little feet that started to jump forward.
He lifted one leg and stepped out in slow motion. What Yao Man couldn't see was that he was just a single father who missed his daughter and couldn't wait to give his child a hug. She didn't know that he had discovered the source of her anger and was planning to use the stolen fifteen years to figure out a solution. Shao Bin grinned at Yao Man proudly through his blurred eyes. Excited nerve signals coursed up and down his body, making him feel hot all over.
Like a person running at full speed crashing into a brick wall. Shao Bin's breathing was stagnant. He took a breath in the next second, but the next second did not come. The foot he stepped out hit the carpet softly, causing his body to stumble. The other foot was hanging in the air, being pulled downward by gravity. Something broke, and he felt like his brain was about to explode. The blood flowing at an unknown speed would break down the barrier and fill his head cavity.
There is still time, he calculated hastily, at least one month, maybe two months. He raised his neck with all his strength, but Coco froze in mid-way. Yao Man's hands hanging on his sides slowly moved up and moved toward his open mouth. Don't be afraid, just for a little while, and then you can stop worrying about my interruption and start a new life - He wanted to comfort them, but his vocal cords only made hoarse friction.
Yao Man wanted to say something. Her lips were approaching a certain shape, but Shao Bin could tell it before she made a sound. That was the first sound of his name. She would have to read his name for another day or two, hoping he would still be awake by then. Shao Bin stared greedily at the two figures, one large and one small. Even though the colors and outlines had gradually faded, he wanted to write down as much as possible. There is still one month left, and he must cherish the last time he spends with them. (13575 words)
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Date: 2023-09-20 11:05 pm (UTC)* For SFF definitions of highly visible.
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Date: 2023-09-20 11:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-09-21 09:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-09-24 01:48 am (UTC)And yeah, I don’t know what the right answer is for what to do when works not written in English appear on a Hugo ballot. (I initialy wrote that as referring to situations when Worldcon is in a not-primarily-English-speaking country, but I guess it’s really a more general issue—it would be nice to see works not written in English have a chance of appearing on the ballot even when Worldcon is in the US or UK. But then what do monoglots like us do? I don’t know.)
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I’m not sure whether what I did to use Google Translate is the same as what you did, but thought it was worth mentioning my process, just in case it’s noticeably different from yours:
1. Open the PDF.
2. Select All.
3. Copy.
4. In Google Translate, set the language to Detect Language, and paste.
It detects the language as “Chinese (Simplified)”, and translates the first 5,000 characters.
5. I didn’t bother with making the paragraphing more readable, but if I wanted more readable paragraphing, I would click the Copy button at the bottom of the translated text, and paste it into my text editor. (And see step 8.)
6. Back in Google Translate, I click the right-arrow link to translate the next 5,000 characters.
7. I repeat steps 5 and 6 until I reach the end.
8. To get better paragraphing: After all the text is in the text editor, I would do a replace-all to replace every instance of one line break with two line breaks.
no subject
Date: 2023-10-30 04:52 pm (UTC)