Before Malcolm was involved in the restoration project of an ancient Spanish mural that took more than three years, he would often carry Jania to his studio on the edge of the town to play. The simple shack made of wooden frames and small red bricks was a treasure place for Jania. It was so close to the woods and had just about everything in it, everything Malcolm could use to do his work. She had found turquoise and dog teeth, flails and scroll saws. Yu Qingshu never liked her going there unless Malcolm promised that he would keep an eye on his daughter.
She could only enter the studio with Malcolm. Sometimes Malcolm would bring her a handful of colorful raspberries from the woods. They ate and talked inside while working. Malcolm told her what project he was working on. At that time, his eyes showed concentration and eagerness, but also a little absent-mindedness. He was talking to his daughter, but at the same time he was also imagining things for himself. It is very different from Yu Qingshu’s working state. The way Yu Qingshu looks at the work materials is like looking at a large puddle of dog poop lying on his dining table. She rarely talks to her daughter about her work because the pressure makes her furious.
Sitting in the rainy night, Akurabin said that he was a playwright. Zhannia believed this sentence more because Akurabin's eyes sometimes looked like Malcolm's when talking. His behavior was so casual that he didn't look like someone who worked in a regular, high-pressure job all year round. But he is not short of money, because this hotel is not cheap, and the cigars he smokes are not cheap either. When he was single, Malcolm lived a tight life, relying on good orders to eat.
Akarahama also went to the hotel to get himself a bottle of soda. He also picked up the sun umbrella lying in the corner and blocked it on the outside of the eaves. This way they won't get wet at all. Then he sat down again, tapping the table and humming happily. Zhaniya only heard the lyrics of the first few lines he hummed, such as "The name of the warrior is Zhuigong" and "I swear to achieve immortality for all eternity" and so on. She didn't know if she heard it right, because she learned much of her English from Malcolm, whose parents were Scottish.
"What are you writing now?" she asked Akira Bin, "this new one?"
"To be honest, I haven't thought about it yet." Akarabin replied, "My sponsor gave me a general direction - she stipulated what kind of plot must be there, but she doesn't care about anything else. I I haven’t decided yet what tone this story should be.”
"You should have a main plot?"
"The main plot...it's hard to say, it's hard to say. Sometimes I want to write it as a ghost story, sometimes a love story, or a detective story. You always want to write something when you have a chance to hold a pen. That's it. . But, I think I’m facing a particularly difficult virtual audience.”
"What?"
"A virtual audience, little girl."
"I do not understand."
Akarabin touched the bruises on his face with his stubby fingers that looked like they were carved out of red bricks. Jania noticed that the bruises were dark brown, looked smooth, and were almost evenly and symmetrically distributed, just like the markings some animals were born with, rather than caused by impact or damage. She wanted to ask Akira Bin if he had some kind of skin disease, but that would be a bit private.
"Let's put it this way, little girl." Akarabin put down his finger, "When you create, you intend to show what you create to others. Maybe you don't in the end, maybe you lose it halfway through writing. Burn it. It doesn't matter, but when you write, you assume that you are speaking to another individual. You are expressing it all so that it can understand you. And this person, this person you made up The person who watches your work anytime, anywhere, is your first audience, your first reader, your first commentator."
"But it's still you," Jania said. "It's your imagination."
"Exactly! But that's the beauty of it. That is, when you're writing something, you imagine who is sitting across from you. That has nothing to do with reality, because you can't be in reality It controls what kind of audience you have. But when you make up a fictional audience, it actually reflects how you view other works. Your number one audience reflects your own taste and your feelings about you. Guessing and positioning of the work. Do you watch plays? Or read books? Do you like to find fault while reading, little girl? Or do you guess what kind of person the author is?"
“I occasionally find fault with books that make me uncomfortable, but I don’t care what happens to the author.”
"Then you are generally a reader who is willing to cooperate - I use two dimensions to classify myself, little girl. Among those audiences who are willing to watch your performance, some viewers tend to cooperate with the works they are exposed to for the first time. Very friendly. They won't take you seriously, won't argue with you about value or background, they just come to have fun and relax. For some viewers, they are the opposite, always eating every bite with the purpose of challenging. They are very detailed - I don't say whether this meticulousness is smart or stupid, or whether they like you - but they will not let your story pass easily. And if you yourself are usually like this as an audience, what you imagined That’s probably true of the number one audience as well.”
"Is that true of you?"
"It's not bad at all, that's just me." Akarabin said with a smile, "I am the kind of audience that is not very popular. I'm not saying that I have any malicious intentions, or that I don't appreciate those efforts, but the rules of the game are like this : I will strictly check whether there is any mystery in every part. I want to find the secrets hidden under the surface. But if there is really nothing to dig out here, I will be disappointed. You see, this is a personal habit of mine. So when I write, I imagine that my number one audience is also such a high-maintenance person. I can't be compared to this guy, so I have to have something that he is interested in, but I also have to have something that he can't guess. thing."
"Are you telling a story?"
"Within the story, yes. Outside the story, maybe a little bit."
"What does it mean?"
"Like I asked before. When you read an unfamiliar book, do you guess what kind of person the author is? You said you are not interested. Yes, you are a rule-abiding player. When the author and you When you sit face to face at the table, your eyes are only fixed on the table and the cards it lays out for you. You will listen carefully to every piece of information the dealer provides you, and calculate the probability and point of each card - but You never play off the board. I mean you don't look up to see who the dealer is, even though you know his thoughts affect the whole game. That's obvious, girl. If you knew it was love When a writer writes a tragedy, you will be wary of the writer biting your tongue at the end. And if you know that the writer had a bitter first love...well, you will always detect something in the story, or you will know about the banker from the story. What happened, more or less. The off-the-pitch moves are always fun."
Akarahama drank his soda happily. He almost drank it all in one gulp, with a look of great interest on his face. Zhaniya tilted her head and stared at him in confusion.
"Why do you do that?" she asked. "It's just a story, isn't it? It's not a gambling game."
"You're a decent person, little girl."
"I don't like what you said."
"I don't mean any harm." Akurabin explained, "Playing off-the-table tricks is a bad habit... It's not very polite, isn't it? Others put on fun tricks for you, but you want to treat this person from scratch. Do some research. If you let the other person know, that's an act of aggression...but let's be honest, you can't quit this trick because aggression is what makes the game fun. And most people play it. Not so good, I mean, for an experienced banker, it will also be a veteran of outside tricks, and will know how to cover up and hide itself. It is not that easy to catch it from the cards. "
"Are you?"
"I'm a veteran." Chirabin blinked and said, "I'm a novice in creation, but I'm no stranger to off-board moves. The knowledge I learned in the city is about this. This is not Let’s just say, they are all boring things. The key part of this matter is not here. The key point is that there is such a kind of player, it is not for the game, no, it almost never looks at the content on the desktop. Its eyes are on the dealer the whole time. And this, little girl, is very, very, very dangerous."
Jania put down her soda bottle. She stared at Akira Bin and asked, "Is there someone investigating? Because of the script you wrote?"
"You're a really smart girl, Jennifer. Smart, and smart. But that's not the case. To say that would be to take my script too seriously. The real thing is this: There is a type of player that is never fun. It's not on the cards. They want to destroy the dealer, and that has nothing to do with the cards themselves. No, no, if they're willing to take another look at the game on the table, it's just to take down the dealer, and then they Enjoy this advantage until you destroy the dealer. I'm not kidding when I say destroy, because you don't have many opportunities to manipulate a person's heart, but there are too many personal factors involved in creation. It can be countered Came here to take advantage of it—but that’s a little far removed from our original topic. We have to get back to my predicament, my number one virtual audience.”
Akira Bin nodded seriously at her, as if this was really a matter of life and death. But his eyes were still full of humor, making it difficult to take him seriously.
"I have a very dangerous virtual spectator," he drawled. "He's the worst, most dangerous of all the spectators we've talked about. He's very picky, very meticulous, and he's a proficient off-taker." The man who does tricks. You might as well imagine him as a hundred-eyed monster, half of his eyes are always staring at the table, and the other half is always staring at me. He wants to see through me through the cards, and as long as he thinks of this, little girl , I have to admit that I feel very uneasy. Every line I write has an uneasy tremor. This is a major problem that interferes with my concentration on writing."
He let out a long sigh and turned his gaze to the dark and hazy sea behind the rain curtain. Jania tilted her head back slightly, as if to look at the ugly playwright from a distance. She thought to herself that this man might have some mental problems, or that he might be playing tricks on her. But she didn't just walk away. The wet and cold rainy night stopped her from running towards the warm bed.
"I want to ask a few questions," she said.
“I’ve always been happy to have people ask me questions.”
"Your 'Dangerous Audience' is just a figment of your imagination, right? He's not a real person."
Akira Bin nodded seriously, put his hand on his chest, and replied as if he was swearing: "He is not a real living person."
"Then...he can't really threaten you. You just imagine that he is picky and will hurt you, but in fact he can't do it because he doesn't exist at all. He can't be seen or touched. "
"That makes sense, little girl. But haven't we always been worried about things that we can't see or touch? Haven't you ever been tortured by some conceptual things? For example, competitive pressure? Fear of death? Unknown and emptiness ? This is what it is. Although I, the audience, are not a living person of flesh and blood, the danger he brings to me is real. This does not mean that I am not afraid of him just because he is invisible and intangible. "
"You mean a kind of mental pressure caused by imagination?"
"You can say that."
"Is that serious?"
"Oh, it's very serious. I'm afraid that there will be a mistake in my script, and I can't sleep well."
"How about trying to find a doctor?" Jania suggested. "Maybe you should pause your creation and recuperate mentally first."
"That's not going to work, girl. My sponsors are not accommodating. And I am very enthusiastic about my new script. I am so obsessed with the prototype of one of the characters that I almost become him, so to speak. lovers.”
"Are you a fan of his?"
"Yes, of course that's what your generation says. But I think there's something different here. I appreciate that character as a paradigm. You see, little girl, I've always loved rainy days. Not only because it is rich in stories, but also because of its religious temperament. Water is an ancient symbol, representing pregnancy and feminine power. This is why in the oldest stories, the goddesses are in charge of important water sources. These The goddesses of rivers, lakes and seas are the incarnations of water. They are beautiful and ever-changing. And clouds - the water floating in the sky - and rain - the water falling from the sky back to the earth - are their countless incarnations. One of a kind. In their most prosperous days, they are goddesses who bring rain and fertility, but when they are unlucky, they will be kicked off their throne as water gods. Legend describes them as sorrowful Ghosts, female monsters or witches, this is related to your era. But there is a characteristic that cannot be separated from them - the power of pregnancy has never left them, that is to say, they are stubborn. Messenger. And by choosing life, they also control death. These two powers should be one. But if you separate these two powers and entrust the order of death to those who do not understand what life is, stuff, then you’ll cause a big mess.”
"Is this the setting of your script?"
"Oh, no, not really. I think it's just a little background information. It doesn't have any significant significance to our story, except for this last line. Jennifer, have you ever thought about killing anyone?"
Hearing these words, even Zhannia was inevitably surprised. But nothing showed on her face, but she asked in a disapproving tone: "Why do I think so?"
"What if you can kill people without any responsibility?" Akurabin asked with interest, "You can't create anything useful, and all your constructive skills are a mess. But you are only good at one thing, then It means destroying any life. Any life, whether it is evil or pure, small or great. How do you plan to use this specialty of yours?"
Jania's fingers touched the stick in her pocket. She and Akira Bin's eyes met for a moment, and then she said calmly: "I don't know how to use it."
"Morally?"
"And brains - nuclear bombs are most useful until they are launched."
"You are a little strategist." Akarabin said, "But, Jennifer, the characters in my story are not as smart as you. When a person's thoughts are completely dominated by death, one of the mistakes he can make is More than you can imagine... Oh, among all the stories about heroes, there are two types that are the most classic and attractive: one is a pure and fearless warrior who sacrifices his life to fight against violence, while his soul remains immortal. , it’s like the rushing torrent on the ground steaming under the cool sun, becoming a free spirit in the clouds. And the other - the other is a story about a tragic fall, when the warrior is played by fate and has to commit a crime A fatal mistake, it is like clouds turning into rain on a cold day, falling into the dirty and depressing world. Now we are back to the metaphor of clouds and rain, pure heroes and anti-heroes, these are the most clichéd design. But Jennifer, in this character that I’m fascinated by, clouds and rain are both the embodiment of water.”
"Then what is the water you are talking about..."
Jania paused. She discovered the movement on the other side of the sea by following Akarahama's reaction. Amidst the crashing rain and the roaring waves, they saw the silhouette of a person slowly emerging from the darkness. This man came from the sea and was soaked to the skin, but his expression was very calm. As he came under the eaves, Jania recognized the young man she had met during the day.
"Ah, I guess you just went to the sea." Akura Bin leaned on the chair and said, "I was still thinking about whether I should go find you. But the rain was too heavy, so I came back from the beach. Zhou, know me Meet this kid, her name is Jennifer. Jennifer, this is Zhou - as you just suggested, he is my psychiatrist."
