musicians of old

Chapter 69 Breaking Literature

Woodpecker Consulting Firm, Office 209 on the second floor.

The effect of the gas heating pipes was very obvious. Sheeran sat at Fanning's desk, wearing only a thin plain dress, barefoot in cotton mops, and a maroon cloak draped over the back of the seat.

On the desk surface made of walnut gall wood with the back of the piano, there is a pile of books nearly one meter high, crooked and likely to fall over at any time, and books and manuscript paper are also scattered in other places.

Sheeran put down the pen, picked up the long Colin glass on the table, drank a sip of iced milk, and rubbed his face wearily.

There was a knock on the door, and then a boy in a formal suit with a briefcase pushed in.

"My God, it's so hot inside, and the heating pipes of Guiding School are too strong." Fanning quickly took off his black coat.

Sheeran stood up: "You're back, Carlone, that... I covered you with a blanket and slept on your sofa last night, don't you mind."

"Oh, it's okay." Fan Ning waved his hand nonchalantly, picked up the milk on the table, and gurgled halfway through it, "I haven't used these yet, um, I'm so thirsty."

"But I've already drank this." The little girl in a dress covered her mouth with one hand in surprise, the bright red on her cheeks spread all the way to her collarbone.

Fan Ning froze for an instant: "I didn't mean to."

"It's full, I thought it was a new one, sorry I asked them to send another one."

After a few seconds of embarrassment, Fan Ning coughed and asked, "How is the document? I feel that your face turns pale and red. It seems that you didn't sleep well last night. Are you feeling uncomfortable here?"

"It's very comfortable here, better than Dad's office, and the sleep time last night was normal, but the translation of documents is a bit tiring."

"Don't be in such a rush, Sheeran, just push forward slowly and gradually. We will go downstairs and walk around the street later. The Lietchi Street not far away is the most prosperous commercial area in East Mecklen."

"After knowing that the document might be related to the cause of my father's death, I myself wanted to translate it as soon as possible. But the situation of this book can be said to be quite strange, no, it is simply unheard of."

Fan Ning couldn't help being a little curious: "Have you never heard of it?"

Sheeran raised his hand and showed nearly ten pages of paper fixed with paper clips: "Look, after I arrived here last night, it only took me nearly two hours to translate all the main parts of this book—the writing style The slightly pedantic Turangalian is not too difficult for me."

Fan Ning looked at the beautiful font on it: "So, it's so simple? What's so strange about it?"

"Look at this again and you'll know."

Sheeran pulled out a pressed piece of paper from the bottom of the table.

Fan Ning walked to Xilan, supported the table, and looked at the engraved printing paper, which was larger than the A2 size in the previous life.

At a glance, he felt that he was about to suffer from trypophobia.

The paper is filled with dense text boxes drawn by Sheeran. Some of the boxes are written, some are empty, and they are scattered. They are connected, interspersed, and guided by lines and arrows. There are solid lines, dotted lines, Wavy lines, double lines, crossed lines, question mark lines, lines marked with text notes, some are one-to-one, sometimes one-to-many, many-to-many, some are unidirectional and sometimes bidirectional, composed of lines and lines A huge messy maze.

Roughly estimated in this way, there are at least two hundred text boxes and nearly a thousand connecting lines that have been written!

"This... what does this mean? Didn't you say that the text was translated in two hours?"

Fan Ning was sweating all over. He looked at this piece of paper, and then at the other pile of writing that was as delicate as a small poem.

Whether the two are similar or not, at least they have nothing to do with each other...

Sheeran explained: "The main part of this unnamed document is a long narrative poem written in Turangalian. In terms of length, it only accounts for about five percent of the entire book."

"The rest of the content includes four major types: comments, indexes, annotations, and supplementary notes. These appendixes are obscure in writing, refer to each other, some are nested, and some are interspersed..."

"for example--"

Sheeran said, pointing to a line of the long poem she wrote: "...we are in the pilgrimage of joy, the joy is fleeting, the pain is more than ever, like the palm of your hand on the The wax surface is like an egg shell soaked in salt water, like nourishment covering the mountains. In the bright red pool, the great mother picked us up one by one in secret, gathered them into fuel to reflect the light, and witnessed the day of birth that has yet to come... ..."

"It is not very difficult to translate the main part into such literal information, but it is so full of symbolic metaphors, I don't know why. For example, when I read this passage, there are four marks in the original text. For instructions, please refer to the comment on line 1405. Index Nos. 225 and 226, and the supplementary notes on page 140. I followed the prompts and searched, and the content of the 1405-line comment pointed to Index No. 410. Indexes 225 and 226 required me to understand the other seven hints in the original text , and the Supplementary Notes on page 140 and Index No. 410 complement each other with the Notes on the Prayer of Group 75..."

"What's annoying is that the languages ​​of these information fragments are not the same! In terms of geographical distribution in history, they cover the ancient Hoffman language, Turangalian language, Noah language, remote The Gulange, Tungusic, and Neleman languages ​​used by the border peoples in the southwest, the Beqa, Geminian, mixed Lydian, and ancient Yanus languages ​​in the history of the Western Continent, before the discovery of the Southern Continent The knot language and the well language of the indigenous people, as well as the ancient Chaniz language that is independent of these systems and whose origin is a mystery..."

Sheeran scratched her hair with both hands, and sighed rather devastated: "Caron, now you know why I drew this piece of paper like this."

Fan Ning's eyes were filled with stares, and he also sighed: "Xiran, it took you one night and one morning to make it look like this. I think your fighting power has reached the ceiling..."

At this time, he recalled the "translator" at the underground party, that is, Professor Lorraine Brownie, who had died of distortion, made an evaluation of this anonymous document: a huge ball of wool that often gets stuck.

It's quite vivid.

"There are still some gains." Sheeran said, "Although the details of the main long poem are unclear and the symbolic metaphors are unclear, but fortunately it is more narrative as a whole. If its skeleton is extracted according to the literal meaning, I still read it. Got some info."

Fanning, who just sat down on the sofa, bounced up again.

"What?" He snapped up.

Sheeran said: "The narrative framework of the main text is about the travel notes of an opera singer and spiritual practitioner 'Banshuva' in the late Turangarian Dynasty, who traveled to the western continent in order to find a certain ancient relic. "

"During the trip, he made an attempt that ultimately drove him insane in order to open 'some door with a price,'" he said, literally.

"What to try?"

"If it is literally translated into Hoffman, it can be named—"

Xilan rolled his eyes and thought for a while: "Turangalia Illusory Man Secret Art."

　Thanks to Phoenix King Malekith, book friend tail number 3702, book friend tail number 6574, and Arthur for the monthly pass~
　　
　
(End of this chapter)