There is not a word in a 650,000-word work that doesn't flow through the fingers, through the desolate heart and into the increasingly lonely, as if it were fertile. Every day, every night, every dance at the top, every exile of youth, endless distress and joy, just for a work I like. I just want to feel intoxicated physically and mentally, obsessed with long-term anesthesia, just to escape from the loneliness of the mood temporarily, just thinking about the final pause. I really don't know how I survived the long road. Indeed, this is a seemingly endless process. A job is a long life, and an experience is a rich life. I am willing to live this life, I can bear the loneliness all my life, I dare to think about my future, so I chose this road and I walked through my heart.
I also forgot my first feeling, as if I were walking, typing the first word, and then immersing myself in the lines and stories. This kind of psychological feeling is the most abundant and romantic time for people. After that, the responsibility is great. This word is put together one by one from the brewing to the implementation, just like the goods piled up in the warehouse are moved out one by one, flowing through roads and vehicles, passing through towns and society, and coming to a wide place, where they pile up into mountains and peaks, looking at a line from one side to the other, marveling at their extraordinary stacking level, which is really of quality. Then they finally want to sell it to others. I don't know where they will eventually go, whether they will become futures in the market, whether they will be too heavy to drag people down, whether they will eventually flow into the homes of ordinary people, whether they will become a backlog and be wasted. Actually, it doesn't matter. It only weighs on me. People will go up and down the mountain instead of carrying it on their shoulders. People only stop and linger, but they can't look up and sigh. Only Shan himself or the author himself has that interest, that responsibility, that heavy weight, just like his own life, only his own works are connected with his own flesh and blood.
The hardest time is when people are halfway through. Maybe Mo Yan gave up, but there is temptation outside the ivory tower, and my heart will be very tired and my life will be stuck in a dead corner. I really don't want to stop and have a bright future. This is the most bitter and tiring fatal stereotype. I will count the words to see how far I have to go, whether my pace is strong and whether my pace is rhythmic. Just like the life of a pendulum, it is monotonous. It is a rhythm that must be adhered to. I don't want to make mistakes again and again, but I sometimes make mistakes and go back to the old ways. My heart is unbearable and hard to see. I have mastered about six or seven hundred thousand words in this work, and now it is just over six hundred and fifty thousand words. People have a hunch about their fate. A good fate is desirable, and a bad fate should be remedied as much as possible. They can control their own destiny, which is the law of seeking advantages and avoiding disadvantages. In the end, people will know that fate has been fixed, and they can't struggle, waste, avoid or bear it, but they can't change it. The original edition of this book has seven or eight hundred pages. To be honest, it is daunting to read. How can it be said that it can pass like a hoe? I even used pliers when I translated. I don't have an iron clip to control the book lying flat, so the legs of the pliers have become my helpers, which can help me subdue the pages I have desperately put together and restore them to their original state. Finally, with the help of pliers, a bulky book was surrendered by me, so that I could stay in the computer and completely become a package that I could do whatever I wanted, and wholesale it to major websites and publishing houses. However, on the road of circulation now, the eyes of knowledgeable people cannot be formed. I'd better put them in good order here and try my best to preserve them and prevent them from sprouting unexpectedly in rainy days. Humid environment is the most dangerous, just like farmers harvesting wheat, hoping that it will be sunny, dried, ground into flour and enter people's dining tables. This is the ultimate expectation. I am a farmer. Year after year, I only ask about planting, but also talk about harvest and worry about the appetite of people who eat, which is related to the final destination of my products. Only their taste buds are my desire. I can't let them down before I can satisfy myself. First of all, I must have this hope myself.
In retrospect, this work may have failed, with scribbling, scribbling, mistakes, games, retouching and serious injuries. It is extremely necessary to have circulation, but I have carefully experienced the works and tried my best to present them. Meticulousness is my wish, accuracy is my principle, concentration is my insistence, and consistency is my ultimate goal. It is still the same translation standard: we should try our best to present the original style without translating, not only accurately grasp the author's feelings in words, but also convey the charm of the work properly in emotion, and never leave any omission in the content, which reflects the author's natural development and grasps the real lifeline of the work. Works, like people, are in the same strain, and the sense of rhythm is whether works can be brought into life. Work is life, and translation is by no means a corpse, let alone meat on the chopping block. You can kill them at will, let them jump out alive and walk towards readers with a brand-new look. They should talk, act like the wind, have emotions, interrogate your level, challenge your ability, walk into your body and mind, and challenge you. More importantly, I want you to appreciate it and finally blend in with you. You chose it in this life because it is the love in your heart. Because it has the power to conquer you and make you want to stop. It has confidence, and you are willing to do it without these two brushes.
A work can be said too much, and too much content is actually in the work. How a person grasps a work, whether it is the author or the reader, is just like making friends. Just like an open conversation, whether we can continue to communicate or not, we should always leave some room for success, instead of pretending to be inexplicable. Some specific methods in it can only be understood, but can't be explained. Depending on your talent and willingness to understand, you should deliberately leave a little secret for you to receive and have room for aftertaste. There is nothing to talk about, but there is no turning point. A glass of water makes people see the end. What's the point? How to make people pay attention to you? The author doesn't lie to you, but he can't open an office at will. He didn't hide the true story, but he was more attractive when he pondered it himself. You will say, I know the author, that's the original intention, that's to win. It's no problem for laymen to watch the excitement, experts to watch the doorway and sell a pass. It's okay to tell the truth. Be responsible, try a little, volunteer, sink in, and be willing to fight. There is no impassable road, no impassable bridge, no impassable death gate. I am afraid I am willing to be stimulated by this. After reading it, I hope readers can feel the same way with me.