Sauce and Marfan

“Even in the cold winter, when everyone was blue from the cold, he sometimes blushes. In those seasons, that complexion looks especially peculiar...” (Jean-Jacques Sambé, The Blushing Lover Marcelin")

(one)

"I woke up."

"Fine," I mumbled on the other bed, "why don't you get up. You like to get up early."

In the corner of the room, Shoji-kun's voice remained calm as usual. He said, "I want to. But I can't get up."

"What's wrong?"

"I became a big beetle," he continued when I thought I had heard it wrong. "You know, it's not easy to get up when the beetle overturns, especially for a newbie like me."

(two)

What the saucer said was not a joke.

I'd rather he told a joke.

After several interruptions, I got up so high that I could fight anyone, but when I saw the dark, hard-shelled bug in the morning light, I really couldn't say whether I should be scared or faint.

"How did you become a bug?!"

Sooji-kun - well, even if it's a bug, I can still recognize him - slowly, as always, said gently:

"I think you should ask first, it's more logical for this worm to eat people."

"Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah!"

(three)

Have you ever seen any carnivore that moves so slowly that it's so difficult to even turn over? What's more, it has no offensive weapons, spits sticky silk, sprays poisonous gas, and has sharp claws... In fact, it is harmless, except that its body is a little huge and looks a little disgusting, there is really no need to be afraid.

"I think, I'm probably not a simple beetle, maybe it's the legendary - horseshoe crab."

"That disgusting creature."

"Well, I agree with you, it's really disgusting. But since I'm similar to it now, just to be polite, you should just talk about it in your stomach, don't go along with me."

"I still don't think it's real," I said.

"Obvious." Sauce Ji-kun lay there calmly.

(Four)

No matter how terrible things are, you can't increase the stimulation again and again. Just like torture, blindly aggravating it will only make the body's perception of pain numb.

I'm going to accept that Shoji-kun is a bug like "Limulus".

But I can't like a bug like that, even if he's the usual good-natured guy.

"I'm going out."

"goodbye."

"What are you going to do? Do you want me to inform your family?"

Shoji-kun was silent for a while, then said, "I've been thinking about what kind of novel I'm in."

"That's not important. After I leave, who should I report first? This is more important, right?"

"Don't you think my problem is more important?"

"What? Fiction? Maybe you're in a Kafka novel."

Shoji nodded again with difficulty and said, "Indeed. Kafka is easy to remember, but I don't really like its ending, or, if I'm really in this modernist novel, its book reading It's fun to get up, but it's too hard to live in. What's more, I really don't need to rely on novels to say something to anyone. I don't want to become a fellow of absurd literature, and I don't want to die at the hands of some inexplicable relatives. "

(five)

"In the end what you want?"

"How? It's a philosophical question. Everyone wants to know how, but everyone doesn't know why? What's more, can we do what we want? No, each of us just lives, not in How to control."

"I'm going to the toilet." In fact, once the terrifying and disgusting force is over, it's like just stepping into a public swimming pool, the water in the bladder will always double several times.

"You should go. But why don't you go?"

Jiang Cijun's tone has never been so disgusting. At least this is the first time I have this feeling.

I said, "Your feet are blocking the door, I can't get through."

"You can step on them, in fact, I didn't feel any—well, feeling."

"I can feel it."

Shoji-kun agrees, "Indeed. Humans have very sensitive senses, but they are never under their control. In fact, our bodies, minds, and ourselves are not under our control. You see, I don't want to be a beetle. But I've turned into a beetle, or a horseshoe crab. You don't want to touch these disgusting arthropods, but your bladder has a build-up of unleashed power. The same is true of the hedonism you and I discussed last night. We want Happy, but always plagued by depression. We can't control ourselves, so who are we?"

(six)

"Thursday and Friday, what day is it today? That's the question."

I was powerless to respond, the release just now was relaxing, but it didn't make my spirits happy.

Like the prince's sooji-kun, continuing his tirade, but I just feel like I'm stuck in a dream that I can't break free from.

Don't say, this is really Kafka, all people don't know where the predicament comes from, but they can only step into a cycle with no end.

Shoji has stretched literary history into genre fiction.

"I like them. They're so powerful."

"Um."

"They're old-fashioned, cheesy, poignantly repeated over and over again, except for a few geniuses, everyone is just lubricant for those gears. Detectives go by name after name, but all but a few are geniuses on hooks , we remembered a few tricks, but had no memory of those names."

"Oh."

"But if I were in such a world of fiction, it would be reassuring. All genre novels are willing to act according to the opinions of the readers, as if the author and the reader conspired to have a feast, no exotic, no surprises, only The rest are like each other's taste. When you go to a familiar restaurant to eat, you never want to be an Inuit trainee guest, and you don't want an ordinary person to play the role of a gourmet. You just like these familiar tastes, familiar ones. Colors, familiar cutlery, and—a familiar waiter. They say, hello sir. You tip as usual. I hate tipping, but I love this waiter.”

"Um?"

"You know. As long as we become the protagonist, we can wait for the ending with peace of mind, and everything will be completed under the author's control. Of course, we have to be careful about a few types, after all, the death of the protagonist is also a kind of narrative trick, no one Surviving often leaves no one out. Well, I'm so worried."

"Ah."

(seven)

"Don't be angry, Ma Fan." Sauce Cijun ended his tirade like this.

He stayed on, not thinking about who to deal with, and couldn't remove his limbs so I could open the door and leave.

I leaned against the wall and tried to keep as far away as possible, but the room really wasn't real because I couldn't smell anything. At this moment, the light outside the window is getting brighter and brighter, and there are footsteps of different people in the corridor. After living for a long time, you can easily distinguish the voices of different people. The footsteps are heavy and slow, and they seem to be procrastinating. It must be an elderly janitor. He is the first to patrol around every day. windows to let in fresh air. Then there's another guy who's not heavy enough, but still has some weight. He's a chef and can't do anything else. It's sandwiches and coffee every day, and an occasional rice ball, depending on what's left over from the night before.

"Sauce, we need to face it eventually."

"Yes, someone has to come in and see me. But who is that? The nurse who feeds us every day, or the doctor who comes every three days, or the boy who delivers meals, or the one who always comes to visit Our loving mommy."

"Always come."

"Yes, Marfan. You're right. It always comes. It doesn't matter who comes, they don't change a thing. If we're really in a fiction world, it doesn't matter what kind of genre. Because we can't guess, it doesn't matter. How will this novel be written. The masters can send us on the road wonderfully, and the mediocre ones can slowly torture readers and us to death with a knife. Maybe our waiting is meaningless, maybe our guessing is in vain, but that So what? We can’t control ourselves, just like we can’t change the novel itself, we can’t even judge whether you—Marfan, I—Jianji, are the characters in the two novels.”

"You're right." I was silent for a moment, then replied.

(Eight)

"They had a very pleasant day together, and they made some plans." (Jean-Jacques Sambey, "Marceline Who Loves Blush")

Yes, they all fell asleep last night. Because Jiang Cijun and Ma Fan have imagined countless ways to escape tomorrow, each of which is "wonderful".

"You know what? Marfan, I think my designs are like novels."

"Haha, I can't wait for the plans for tomorrow morning."

"Nothing goes wrong."

Marfan knocked on the rail of the bed and said, "Absolutely."

At this time, there were hurried footsteps in the corridor, and a voice shouted: "Which ghost, knocking on the head?"

The two fell silent immediately, because it was coming early in the morning.

"Like a novel."

"sure."

The two of them whispered, making sure only they could hear it.