Chapter 202 postscript

I didn't want to write any "postscript of translation" at first, but there is one thing that always haunts me. I want to write it truthfully, record it at the end, and have the right to call it "postscript of translation". It took a year and four months to translate this book.This is because, on the one hand, I am busy with my daily work and have a lot of household chores.On the other hand, I tried to find an assistant to help me, but I couldn't find one, so I had to gallop alone in this voluminous tome.I spend almost all my spare time and holidays on it.The nature of my work dictates that I have to travel a lot—I also use the time I have outside of business trips.

In a sense, this book is translated into Journey, which is the crystallization of my painstaking effort.After talking about these words, the reader will naturally understand why I am so angry when I think of the things recorded below! The first 400,000 words of this book are "near the dead".The thing is like this: a thief climbed into my bedroom one night and stole a recorder worth a thousand yuan from me.I laughed it off, and my wife scolded me after hearing the news and said: "The tape recorder that I worked so hard to buy was stolen. If you don't report it, you still act as if nothing happened. How much money does your family save?" I said: "The thief stole it. He needs it! Matter is indestructible, this tape recorder still exists in the world! It's just that the ownership and usage rights have changed!" "You..." My wife was so angry that I couldn't speak.

One morning a week after the incident happened, I woke up and wanted to read the translation (translation and proofreading were done in parallel, this is my habit), and I found that the suitcase with the number was missing! "Where is my translation?" The wife who was making breakfast in the kitchen replied casually, "Isn't it in the suitcase?" "It's gone!" "What?!" !" The translation is lost!The thief probably thought that the heavy suitcase must be full of banknotes! Furious, I stomped my feet and cursed: "Thief! I...I...I will shoot you!"

Words such as "shooting" are purely venting anger.I don't have a gun. Even if someone gave me a gun and told me to shoot a death row prisoner, I might not have the guts to pull the trigger.The translation manuscript is lost, but this is a fact, a year of sleepless nights and meals!In anger, I swear to God, as long as I have breath, I will re-translate the lost part!I don't believe there are thieves coming to steal it again. Probably because my bold words of "shooting the thief" got out, and everyone in the dormitory area expressed sympathy for me, and even the children asked, "Uncle Fat, have you found the manuscript?"

Probably on the ninth day after the translation was stolen, a red scarf came to me in a hurry: "Uncle fat, there is a lot of manuscript paper behind that door, is it yours?" I threw away the pen in my hand, rushed down the stairs in three steps at a time, ran across the yard, turned into another floor area (I accidentally stepped on a nail while running), and entered the door, like a hungry tiger Like a sheep, he pounced on the "big pile of manuscript paper" all at once!Translation!My translation!When I was excited, I couldn't help thinking of the thief: he really has a conscience!But he wasn't friend enough either, and he took my suitcase away.

A few years have passed, but I am still brooding over this matter, and wrote a "postscript" on this topic. Am I too narrow-minded?may be! But I will tell you, my readers: I love my labor, and I love you even more! translator