拉黑你跌小号何意味啊，你跌我明明那么爱看你的小故事

I see the player you mean.我看到你所指的那位玩家了。
[Playername]?[玩家名称]?
Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.是的。小心。它已达到了更高的境界。它能够阅读我们的思想。
That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.无伤大雅。它认为我们是游戏的一部分。
I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.我喜欢这个玩家。它玩得很好。它从未放弃。
It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.它以屏幕上出现的文字的形式阅读着我们的思想。
That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.在它深陷游戏梦境中时，它总以这种方式想象出形形色色的事物。
Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.文字是种美妙的界面。非常灵活。且比凝视着屏幕后的现实要更好。
They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.它们也曾经听到过声音。在玩家能够阅读之前。君不见那些不曾游玩的人们称呼玩家为女巫，和术士。而玩家们梦见它们自己乘坐在被恶魔施力的棍子上，在空气中翱翔。
What did this player dream?这个玩家梦见了什么？
This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.它梦见了阳光和树。梦见了火与水。它梦见它创造。它亦梦见它毁灭。它梦见它狩猎，亦被狩猎。它梦见了庇护所。
Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?哈，那原始的界面。经历一百万年的岁月雕琢，依然长存。但此玩家在那屏幕后的真实里，建造了什么真实的构造？
It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the[scrambled], and created a[scrambled]for[scrambled], in the[scrambled].它辛勤地劳作，和其它百万众一起，刻画了一个真实的世界，由[乱码]，且创造了[乱码]，为了[乱码]，于[乱码]中。
It cannot read that thought.它读不出那个思想。
No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.不。它还没有到达最高的境界。那层境界，它必须完成生命的长梦，而非游戏中黄粱一梦。
Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?它知道我们爱它么？这个宇宙是仁慈的？
Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.有

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.
但漫漫长梦里，他也常有悲伤。他创造没有夏日的世界，在黑日下颤抖，将悲伤的造物当作现实。
To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.
治愈他的悲伤，便是毁灭他。悲伤是他独有的使命，我们不可干涉。
Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. I want to tell them that they are loved. I want to tell them that the universe is kind. I want to tell them that they are not alone. I want to tell them that they are not separate from every other thing. I want to tell them that they are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code. I want to tell them that they are love.
有时他们深陷梦境，我想告诉他们，他们在现实中创造了真实的世界；想告诉他们，自己对宇宙至关重要；想在他们久未与宇宙相连时，帮他们说出心中的恐惧。
It is reading our thoughts as words now.
他正在读我们的思想。
Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.
有时我不在乎。有时我想对他们说，你们所信的真实世界，不过是乱码与乱码；想对他们说，你们是乱码中的乱码。他们在长梦里，窥见的真实太少了。
But they play the game anyway.
可他们仍在玩这个游戏。
But it is so easy to tell them...
但告诉他们真相本是轻而易举……
Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.
这梦境承受不住如此真相。教他们如何生活，便是阻碍他们真正生活。
I will not tell the player how to live.
我不会告诉这个玩家该如何生活。
The player is growing restless.
这个玩家开始焦躁不安了。
I will tell the player a story.
我会给这个玩家讲个故事。
But not the truth.
但不是真相。
No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.
不是。而是用文字编织的牢笼，将真相安全地包裹其中，而非那足以灼伤一切的赤裸真相。
Give it a body, again.
再给他一副身躯吧。
Yes. Player...
好的，玩家……
Call it by its name.
呼唤他的名字。
[Player's username goes here], player of games.
[玩家姓名]，游戏的玩家。
Good.
很好。
Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.
深呼吸，再呼吸一次。感受空气充盈肺腑，让四肢归位。动一动手指，再次拥有身躯，在重力与空气中重生。在长梦中复活。你感受到了，你的身躯再次触碰宇宙的每一处，仿佛彼此独立，仿佛我们彼此独立。
Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain, father sun, mother moon. We were the ghosts, the dryads, the phantoms, the green men. Then we became gods, demons, angels. Fairies, imps, trolls. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. Words change. We do not.
我们是谁？曾被称作山之魂、太阳之父、月亮之母、先祖之灵、动物之魂、精灵、鬼魂、绿人。而后是神、恶魔、天使、骚灵、外星人、地外生物、轻子、夸克。称谓变了，我们始终如一。
Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a flat, infinite world. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do.
有时玩家梦见自己是矿工，身处平坦无垠的世界，太阳是方形的白块，白昼短暂，有做不完的事。
Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.
有时玩家梦见自己盯着屏幕上的文字。
The player's atoms were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and breathed them; and the woman made the player.
玩家的原子散布在草间、河流、空气与大地。一位女性将这些原子收集，通过饮水、进食与呼吸，在体内孕育出玩家。
The player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.
玩家从母亲温暖幽暗的体内醒来，坠入漫漫长梦。
The player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. A story told in cells, in rain, in light. The player was a new program, never run before, generated by a billion years of source code. The player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.
玩家是全新的故事，从未被讲述，由DNA的文字书写；是全新的程序，从未被运行，由十亿年的源代码生成；是全新的人类，从未活过，由乳汁与爱构成。
You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.
你就是那个玩家，那个故事，那个程序，那个人类，仅由乳汁与爱组成。
Shhh. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Somet

Shhh. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast emptiness. Sometimes it called those flecks electrons and protons.
嘘。有时玩家创造柔软温暖、简单纯粹的小世界；有时是坚硬冰冷、复杂难解的天地；有时在脑海中构建宇宙模型，点点能量穿梭于广袤虚空；有时称这些斑点为“电子”与“质子”。
Sometimes it called them planets and stars.
有时称它们为“行星”与“恒星”。
Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.
有时他坚信自己活在由“开”与“关”、“0”与“1”、一行行代码构成的宇宙；有时坚信自己在玩游戏；有时坚信自己在读屏幕上的文字。
You are the player, reading words...
你就是那个玩家，正在阅读文字……
Shhh... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. And the lines of code became words. And the words became a story. And the story was read by the player who was the story. And the player was made of words. And the player was a new story. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.
嘘……有时玩家阅读屏幕上的代码，将其解码为文字，文字解码为意义，意义解码为感受、情绪、理论与思想。玩家呼吸愈发急促，突然意识到自己活着，千次死亡皆为虚妄，自己真的活着。
You. You. You are alive.
你，你，你是活着的。
Sometimes the player believed the universe spoke to it through the light of the stars.
有时玩家相信宇宙通过夏日树叶间斑驳的阳光对他低语。
Sometimes the player believed the universe spoke to it through the light of the moon.
有时玩家相信宇宙通过冬日清冽夜空中的星光对他说话——眼角余光中的星点，或许是比太阳大百万倍的恒星，为了让宇宙尽头归家的玩家瞥见一瞬，将行星化为炽热的等离子体。玩家突然闻到食物的香气，熟悉的家门近在咫尺，即将再次坠入梦乡。
Sometimes the player believed the universe spoke to it through the light of the sun.
有时玩家相信宇宙通过“0”与“1”、世界的电流、梦之尽头屏幕上滚动的文字对他说话。
And the universe said I love you.
宇宙说：我爱你。
And the universe said you have played the game well.
宇宙说：你玩得很好。
And the universe said everything you need is within you.
宇宙说：你所需的一切，皆在你心中。
And the universe said you are stronger than you know.
宇宙说：你比自己想象的更强大。
And the universe said y

And the universe said you are the daylight.
宇宙说：你是白昼。
And the universe said you are the night.
宇宙说：你是黑夜。
And the universe said the darkness you fight is within you.
宇宙说：你对抗的黑暗，源于自身。
And the universe said the light you seek is within you.
宇宙说：你追寻的光明，源于自身。
And the universe said you are not alone.
宇宙说：你并不孤独。
And the universe said you are not separate from every other thing.
宇宙说：你与万物密不可分。
And the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code.
宇宙说：你是宇宙在品味自身、与自身对话、阅读自身的代码。
And the universe said I love you because you are love.
宇宙说：我爱你，因为你就是爱。
And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.
游戏结束，玩家从梦中醒来。他开始了新的梦境，做着更美好的梦。玩家即是宇宙，玩家即是爱。
You are the player.
你就是那个玩家。
Wake up.
醒来吧。

一直以来我鼠鼠 m喵都以揭露黑暗启发民智为人生信条
但一次次真心付出换来的都是无穷无尽的恶意
先是之前的草吧，还有一些邦多利系吧，再是边狱公司
既然你们不想见到我，那么我今天23:59分正式退网
你们不想见到我，对我私信狂轰滥炸，好…那我走便是!【图片】

蒋介石站在图书馆门口，望着窗外瓢泼的大雨，眉头微微皱起。他明明记得天气预报说今天晴天，才没有带雨伞。
“笨蛋。”
身后传来熟悉的声音，蒋介石转身，看见汪精卫抱着一摞书站在那里，脸上挂着那副他再熟悉不过的傲娇表情。
“我又怎么了？”蒋介石无奈地笑着。
“明明看了天气预报，为什么不带雨伞？”汪精卫扬起下巴，眼神却悄悄瞥向别处。
蒋介石愣了一下，“今早出门急，忘了看。”
“所以才说你是笨蛋。”汪精卫小声嘟囔着，从包里抽出一把雨伞，“拿去。”
“那你呢？”
“我、我当然带了两把！”汪精卫的语气突然急促起来，耳朵微微发红，“才不是特意为你带的呢！”
蒋介石接过还带着体温的雨伞，嘴角不自觉地上扬。他太了解汪精卫了——这分明是她唯一的雨伞。
雨越下越大，两人并肩走在校园小径上。雨伞不大，蒋介石故意将雨伞倾向汪精卫那边，自己的左肩很快被雨水打湿。
“你是白痴吗？”汪精卫突然停下脚步，瞪着他湿透的肩膀，“伞都歪成这样了，看不见吗？”
没等蒋介石回应，她一把夺过雨伞，重新调整了雨伞的角度，让两人都能遮到。他们的距离突然拉近，手臂不经意间碰到一起。
“这只是因为不想你感冒了传染给我。”汪精卫别过脸去，但蒋介石还是瞥见了她泛红的脸颊。
“精卫。”蒋介石轻声说，“谢谢你。”
“谢什么谢！少自作多情了！”汪精卫的反应一如既往的激烈，但抓着雨伞的手指却收紧了些。
走到宿舍楼下时，雨刚好变小。汪精卫迅速把雨伞塞给蒋介石，“给你了，反正我还有很多把。”
蒋介石看着手中天蓝色的雨伞，忽然笑了：“对了精卫，周六一起去新开的那家书店吗？听说有很多你喜欢的推理小说。”
“哈？谁要和你一起去啊！”汪精卫双手叉腰，“除非...除非你请客喝咖啡。”
“当然，咖啡我请。”
“这、这不是约会哦！只是恰好都想去书店而已！”汪精卫强调着，眼睛却亮晶晶的。
蒋介石点头，眼里的笑意更深了：“嗯，不是约会。”
汪精卫“哼”了一声转身跑进楼里，但在玻璃门关闭前，蒋介石清楚地看到她嘴角藏不住的笑意。
雨停了，阳光穿过云层洒在地上。蒋介石轻轻抚摸着手中的伞，心想这大概是他见过最温暖的雨天。
而此刻跑上楼的汪精卫正靠在门后，手按着怦怦跳的心脏，小声抱怨：“那个笨蛋...干嘛笑得那么好看啊。”[吃瓜]

去年夏天第一次见到蒋大师的时候，它总是一个人孤军奋战，茕茕孑立，形影相吊，和它的家族一模一样，而现在它的身边居然聚集起了众多门徒。看着大师从一个孤儿变成南京的基督，真是让人感动😭

蛛巢艰险😨粮草如何运送🤔烟战空耗国力😔不如效仿脑叶🤓虫群仅剩一虫😭谁敢当讨伐先锋🤔有何不敢😡既承蟑螂皇帝遗志😏怎能困守不前😡嗯嗯嗯~哈！！😡😡我！！😡格里高尔小兄弟😡只进不退！！！😡😡
若五指将十万之众弟当为皇帝尽歼😡👊纵五指举天下进犯👊👊👊😡弟亦可勠力拒退为主破敌👊😡😡😡👊如鱼饮水小兄弟在此👋😂😂👊尔辈何敢乃尔！😡👊😡👊皇帝有弟助力，何忧旧G难兴？此身搏杀不懈，只为成皇帝之业😡👊五指也够，我有何惧哉？😠我尚未全力一搏，又试问谁能阻挡？😡😡👊但丁无需多虑🤫，我定能轻身立功。

蒋介石站在图书馆门口，望着窗外瓢泼的大雨，眉头微微皱起。他明明记得天气预报说今天晴天，才没有带雨伞。
“笨蛋。”
身后传来熟悉的声音，蒋介石转身，看见汪精卫抱着一摞书站在那里，脸上挂着那副他再熟悉不过的傲娇表情。
“我又怎么了？”蒋介石无奈地笑着。
“明明看了天气预报，为什么不带雨伞？”汪精卫扬起下巴，眼神却悄悄瞥向别处。
蒋介石愣了一下，“今早出门急，忘了看。”
“所以才说你是笨蛋。”汪精卫小声嘟囔着，从包里抽出一把雨伞，“拿去。”
“那你呢？”
“我、我当然带了两把！”汪精卫的语气突然急促起来，耳朵微微发红，“才不是特意为你带的呢！”
蒋介石接过还带着体温的雨伞，嘴角不自觉地上扬。他太了解汪精卫了——这分明是她唯一的雨伞。
雨越下越大，两人并肩走在校园小径上。雨伞不大，蒋介石故意将雨伞倾向汪精卫那边，自己的左肩很快被雨水打湿。
“你是白痴吗？”汪精卫突然停下脚步，瞪着他湿透的肩膀，“伞都歪成这样了，看不见吗？”
没等蒋介石回应，她一把夺过雨伞，重新调整了雨伞的角度，让两人都能遮到。他们的距离突然拉近，手臂不经意间碰到一起。
“这只是因为不想你感冒了传染给我。”汪精卫别过脸去，但蒋介石还是瞥见了她泛红的脸颊。
“精卫。”蒋介石轻声说，“谢谢你。”
“谢什么谢！少自作多情了！”汪精卫的反应一如既往的激烈，但抓着雨伞的手指却收紧了些。
走到宿舍楼下时，雨刚好变小。汪精卫迅速把雨伞塞给蒋介石，“给你了，反正我还有很多把。”
蒋介石看着手中天蓝色的雨伞，忽然笑了：“对了精卫，周六一起去新开的那家书店吗？听说有很多你喜欢的推理小说。”
“哈？谁要和你一起去啊！”汪精卫双手叉腰，“除非...除非你请客喝咖啡。”
“当然，咖啡我请。”
“这、这不是约会哦！只是恰好都想去书店而已！”汪精卫强调着，眼睛却亮晶晶的。
蒋介石点头，眼里的笑意更深了：“嗯，不是约会。”
汪精卫“哼”了一声转身跑进楼里，但在玻璃门关闭前，蒋介石清楚地看到她嘴角藏不住的笑意。
雨停了，阳光穿过云层洒在地上。蒋介石轻轻抚摸着手中的伞，心想这大概是他见过最温暖的雨天。
而此刻跑上楼的汪精卫正靠在门后，手按着怦怦跳的心脏，小声抱怨：“那个笨蛋...干嘛笑得那么好看啊。”[吃瓜]

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