This is not the fear that he will die helplessly for lack of food, but the fear that hunger has not exhausted his last viability, and he has been brutally destroyed. There are many wolves in this place.
The sound of the wolf howling wafted back and forth in the wasteland, interwoven into a dangerous net in the air, as if he could reach out and touch it, which made him unable to help but raise his hand and push it back, as if it were a tent strained by the wind. The wolves often pass by him in twos and threes.
But they all avoided him. One reason is that they are few in number. In addition, they are looking for reindeer that can't fight, but this strange animal that walks upright may both scratch and bite.
In the evening, he met many messy bones, which showed that the wolf killed a wild animal here. These bones were a little reindeer an hour ago, screaming and running, very active.
He looked at these bones, which were chewed and shiny, and only some cells that were not dead were pink. Is it possible that he will become like this before dark? Is this life? It is really an empty and fleeting thing.
Only by living can you feel pain. There is nothing sad about death.
Death is sleep. It means end and rest.
Then why doesn't he want to die? However, he didn't think about these principles for long. He squatted on the moss floor with a bone in his mouth, sucking the remaining life that still made the bone slightly red.
The sweetness of meat, as vague and elusive as memory, drives him crazy. He clenched his bones and chewed hard.
Sometimes he bit a bone, sometimes he bit his own teeth, so he smashed the bone with a stone, mashed it into paste and swallowed it. In a hurry, he sometimes bumps his finger. To his surprise, he didn't feel very painful when the stone hit his finger.
Then it rained horribly for several days. He doesn't know when to camp and when to pack.
He travels day and night. He rested where he fell, and walked slowly forward when the dying spark flashed and burned slightly.
He no longer struggles like a human being. It is his life that pushes him forward, because it doesn't want to die.
He is no longer in pain. His nerves have become dull and numb, and his mind is full of strange visions and wonderful dreams.
However, he always sucks and chews the broken bones of the reindeer, which is a little bit of debris he collects and carries with him. Instead of going over mountains and mountains, he walked along a stream that automatically flowed through a wide and shallow valley.
But he saw neither the stream nor the valley. He only sees hallucinations.
Although his soul and body walk side by side and climb forward, they are separated, and the connection between them is very weak. One day, he woke up and lay awake on his back on a rock.
The sun is sunny and warm. He heard a herd of reindeer screaming in the distance.
He only vaguely remembers rain, wind and snow. As for whether he was hit by the storm for two days or two weeks, he didn't know. He lay motionless for a long time, and the soft sunshine shone on him, filling his painful body with warmth.
It is a sunny day, he thought. Maybe he can find a way to determine his position.
He leaned painfully; Below is a wide, slow-moving river. He found the river strange, which really surprised him.
He looked slowly down the river, and the wide bend of the river meandered among many bare barren hills, which was more bare, desolate and low than any mountain he had ever seen. So he slowly, calmly, without excitement, or at most with a very accidental interest, followed the direction of this strange river and looked at the sky, only to see it pour into a bright and brilliant sea.
He is still not excited. Strange, he thought. This is an illusion, perhaps a mirage-mainly an illusion, a trick played by his deranged nerves.
Later, when he saw a big ship moored on the bright sea, he was more convinced that it was an illusion. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again.
It is strange that this illusion should last so long! Not surprisingly, however, he knew there would never be any sea or big ship in the middle of the wasteland, just as he knew there was no bullet in his empty gun. He heard a sniffling sound behind him-as if he could not breathe or cough.
Due to extreme weakness and rigidity, he turned over very slowly. He couldn't see anything nearby, but he waited patiently.
He heard the sound of sniffing and coughing again, and between two rocks less than twenty feet away from him, he vaguely saw the head of a gray wolf. Those pointed ears are not as straight as other wolves; Its eyes are black and bloodshot; My head seems to droop feebly, which is distressing.
The beast kept blinking in the sun. It seems to have a glass. Just as he looked at it, it sniffed and coughed again.
At least, it will always be true, he thought, and turned over to see the real world that had been covered by illusions before. However, the distance is still a brilliant sea, and the ship is still clearly visible.
Is it true?/You don't say. He closed his eyes and thought for a long time. He came up with it after all. He has been walking north by east. He has left the Dis watershed and entered the Copper Valley.
This wide river, flowing slowly, is a copper mine river. That magnificent ocean is the Arctic Ocean.
That ship is a whaling ship, which should have sailed to the mouth of mackenzie river, but it is too easterly and is currently anchored in Coronation Bay. He remembered the map of Hudson's Bay Company he had seen a long time ago. Now, for him, this is completely clear and reasonable.
He sat up, thinking about what was in front of him. The blanket wrapped around my feet has worn out, and there is no good meat on my feet.
The last blanket has been used up. The gun and hunting knife are also gone.
I don't know where I lost my hat, and so did the small bag of matches in the hat ring. However, the bag of matches wrapped in oil paper in the cigarette bag on my chest is still there and it is dry. He glanced at his watch.
The hour hand points to eleven o'clock and the watch is still running. Very clear.
2. Borrow books quickly. Translate "Borrow books quickly" Original: When I was a child, I was greedy for learning, and my family was poor, so I couldn't read books. Every time I borrow books from the library, I take notes by myself and count the days to return them. It's cold and the inkstone is hard, so my fingers can't bend and stretch. After I finished recording, I didn't dare to go beyond my agreement. So many people take books as holidays, and I dare not exceed my appointment. So I often borrow books from people who have books, copy them in person, and return them on the scheduled date. When the weather is cold, the ink on the inkstone is frozen into solid ice, and the fingers are frozen, so you can't bend and stretch easily, but you never neglect to copy it. After copying, I returned the book in a hurry, not daring to exceed the scheduled date. So people are willing to lend it to me, so I can read a lot of books.
3. Who knows the translation of ancient Chinese "borrowing books and returning them quickly"? I was fond of studying when I was young, and my family was poor, so I couldn't read. Every time I borrow it from the library, I take my own notes and count the days. The weather is very cold, the inkstone is hard, and my fingers can't bend and stretch. After I finished recording, I didn't dare to go beyond my agreement. So there are many people. So I often borrow books from people who have books, copy them in person, and return them on the scheduled date. When the weather is cold, the ink on the inkstone is frozen into solid ice, and the fingers are frozen, so you can't bend and stretch easily, but you never neglect to copy it. After copying, I returned the book in a hurry, not daring to exceed the scheduled date. So people are willing to lend it to me, so I can read a lot of books.
When I was a child, I was addicted to learning, and my family was poor, so I couldn't read. Every time I borrow it from the library, I record it myself and count the days. When the weather is cold, the water in the salt pond freezes into ice and I can't stretch my fingers. I still don't relax reading. After copying, please go back to China, and dare not exceed the agreed time limit slightly. So most people will lend me books so that I can read all kinds of books.
I was very studious when I was a child, but because my family was poor and I didn't have the money to buy books, I often borrowed books from people who had books, copied them myself and returned them on the scheduled date. It was freezing, and the ink on the inkstone became solid ice. My fingers were stiff with cold, and I was clumsy in flexion and extension, but I never neglected copying. After copying, I was in a hurry to return the book, not daring to exceed the scheduled date. So people are willing to lend me books, so I can read a lot of books.
How to read classical Chinese is like reading modern Chinese. Five years later, it depends on how you read it. You see, there will be no great progress in 20 years.
Starting from the prose of Tang and Song Dynasties and the white notes in Yuan, Ming and Qing Dynasties, I was interested in reading Tang and Song Ci at the same time, and gradually liked reading the prose of the Five Classics and pre-Qin philosophers. It is best to buy notes from Zhonghua Book Company or Shanghai Ancient Books Publishing House, and proofread Du's notes or concentrated notes. If you can't read the label, you can check the tool again (recommend Han Dian, this software is very convenient and powerful) and try to figure it out carefully.
Because what you say is like reading A Zhi in the vernacular, you must take it one step at a time. In fact, it is impossible to read the vernacular, because ancient Chinese is an extinct language, just written language, and spoken language has died out, so it should not be treated equally with modern Chinese.
Think about it, most of the ancients have read ancient prose all their lives, and they have to use annotations. How can they reach that level? It's just that it's easy to read.
Besides, what you said about five hours a day is just a blank check, which has been difficult to cash. Man is not a machine. When you are at a loss when you read back the book, you will definitely be thrown aside.
Learning ancient Chinese is a very long process and cannot be accelerated. Reading a few books doesn't help much. When the old ones are ripe, they feel that they are good at it. When they get new ones, sometimes they still can't read.
Classical Chinese is very thick, and there are many allusions, which is often the case. For beginners, it can be said to be everywhere. This requires patient reading.
Well, I hope these words can help you.