Chapter 9:Learning Language
"Okay, let's stop chatting," Meng Xian said, her voice laced with amusement.
She glanced at Zhou Mingrui's disheveled appearance and laughed out loud, "It's already afternoon, but we haven't had lunch yet."
"Are we going to make lunch now?" Zhou Mingrui asked, noticing Meng Xian heading straight to the kitchen opposite the living room. He stood up and followed her. "I can help..."
Just as he was about to step into the kitchen, Meng Xian turned and stopped him with a serious expression. "Although you will be staying here in the future, you are a guest now since this is your first visit."
She placed her hands on her hips, exuding a sense of playful authority. "As a guest, you should just wait to be entertained. How can you ask a guest to help you?"
She then manually turned Zhou Mingrui around, just as he had done to her at the grilled fish restaurant, and gently pushed him toward the master bedroom.
"Go tidy up your room. Take out the luggage that needs to be taken out and put it away. Don't leave it until the evening."
Zhou Mingrui stood there for a moment, a smile forming on his lips. He couldn't help but admire Meng Xian's blend of warmth and assertiveness. Obediently, he went back to his room to unpack.
He then obediently went back to his room to pack his belongings. When he got serious, he was decisive and efficient, transforming the empty room into a personalized space in no time.
Feeling satisfied with his progress, Zhou Mingrui headed to the bathroom next door to wash his hands. On his way back, he paused at the kitchen door, peering through the glass sliding door.
He saw Meng Xian diligently preparing a meal, a pot of something aromatic simmering in front of her.
The scene stirred memories of recipes he had seen before.
He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. "Are you still thinking about those clear soup noodles with vegetables?"
Meng Xian, overhearing him, responded without looking up. "I did add an egg. We can't waste food, right?"
She spoke as she took out a small porcelain bowl from another electric steamer that was keeping food warm.
With a spoon in hand, she turned and walked towards Zhou Mingrui, opening the glass door of the kitchen and handing him the bowl.
"Fill your stomach first," she said.
Zhou Mingrui took the bowl and looked down. Inside was a serving of warm glutinous rice dumplings with sweet osmanthus wine.
The delicate white dumplings looked incredibly soft and sticky, dotted with golden dried osmanthus flowers. The air was filled with a sweet aroma, the scent of the wine and osmanthus complementing each other perfectly.
As a true dessert lover, Zhou Mingrui silently gave a thumbs up, carrying the bowl back to the sofa in the living room.
He savored each bite, the soft, sticky dumplings melting in his mouth, the sweetness of the osmanthus wine lingering on his palate.
Meanwhile, Meng Xian prepared a small bowl of food for Starlight, petting him affectionately as he devoured his meal.
She also made herself a cup of coffee, the aroma adding another comforting layer to the atmosphere.
Zhou Mingrui squinted happily, savoring the sweet osmanthus wine dumplings. Glancing at the kitchen, he saw Meng Xian still busy, moving with a practiced grace. With time to kill, he considered his options: play with his phone or...
His gaze fell on an old book lying on the table. The white cloth cover had turned yellow and gray with age, three thick dark red diagonal double arrows printed on top. Nothing else adorned the cover.
Zhou Mingrui realized the book had been there since he entered the apartment, but he had paid little attention to it.
Curiosity piqued, Zhou Mingrui's fingers itched to pick up the book. It shouldn't be a problem if it was left out so openly, right? Just a quick look…
Five seconds later, Meng Xian's voice broke the silence, laced with a hint of amusement. "That book? If you want to read it, just read it. There's no need to come here and ask."
She turned around from the kitchen, raising an eyebrow at Zhou Mingrui, who stood at the door with the book in his hands.
She added with a teasing tone, "But you probably won't understand it."
Zhou Mingrui had barely opened the first page when he felt a wave of confusion wash over him. The unfamiliar, intricate script seemed to dance across the page, taunting his ignorance.
He quickly closed the book, feeling a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. "What is this?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.
Meng Xian glanced at him, her eyes briefly flickering with a knowing smile. "It's How the Steel Was Tempered," she said casually, as if the title explained everything.
The name struck a chord with Zhou Mingrui. "How the Steel Was Tempered?"
he repeated, the words sounding both familiar and foreign. The title conjured up memories of a distant past, school days filled with mandatory reading and historical discussions. The novel, written by Soviet author Nikolai Ostrovsky, was a cornerstone of Soviet socialist literature, a narrative of resilience and revolution.
Zhou Mingrui's mind raced, piecing together fragments of his knowledge. He recalled the protagonist, Paul, a fervent proletarian revolutionary, a figure defined by his unwavering character.
Paul had faced immense hardships, yet never surrendered to the cruel whims of fate. Zhou Mingrui could almost hear the famous lines resonating in his memory:
"The most precious thing in life is life, and everyone has only one life."
A person's life should be spent like this: when he looks back on the past, he will not regret wasting his time, nor will he be ashamed of doing nothing.
In this way, when he is dying, he can say: "My whole life and all my energy have been dedicated to the most magnificent cause in the world—the struggle for human liberation."
These iconic quotes encapsulated the essence of Paul's journey and the novel's powerful message.
Zhou Mingrui remembered jotting down similar reflections in his junior high school reading notes, pondering the ideal of a communist society and the relentless pursuit of one's beliefs.
"The real sun should not be hanging high in the sky. The sun hanging in the sky will only be abstract. What is the communist ideal? How to work hard for the faith entrusted to one's life—"
"When Paul rose up to resist the ruthless fate with amazing perseverance, the ordinary life burst into eternal and extraordinary light in the fierce collision with fate, bringing courage and strength to the pale heart."
As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Zhou Mingrui found himself intrigued. The book in his hands felt weighty, not just in its physical form but in the legacy it carried. The aged, worn cover spoke of time's passage, of countless hands that had held it, eyes that had scanned its pages. It was a relic, and yet, it seemed alive with history.
Given its notoriety in China, the book had been translated multiple times, making it widely accessible. Zhou Mingrui wondered why Meng Xian would choose the original Russian version, a language not commonly mastered. The answer seemed obvious, yet startling. There was only one logical conclusion.
"Are you learning Russian on your own?"
Zhou Mingrui asked, his voice tinged with awe and curiosity. "Is this the reference book you use to help you?"
Meng Xian's eyes twinkled with a gentle amusement as she looked up from her cooking. "Isn't there a saying? Mastering a foreign language might really save your life at a critical moment."
She flashed a knowing smile, her tone light yet contemplative. "I'm usually free anyway, so I might as well recharge myself."
Zhou Mingrui, who had been observing her with a mix of curiosity and admiration, listened intently.
Meng Xian's decision to learn Russian had initially seemed a curious choice, but her reasoning began to make sense as she continued.
When she had first learned that the place she traveled to was an old capital on the brink of destruction, and realized that her future plans had been entirely overturned,
Meng Xian knew she needed something to occupy her mind. The uncertainty and upheaval had driven her to find purpose and distraction in new endeavors.
She reflected on how humans tend to let their minds wander when idle and how this idle time could be channeled into something productive.
"At worst," Meng Xian said with a serious, yet thoughtful expression, spreading her hands as if to emphasize her point, "lifelong learning can also improve a person's employment competitiveness."
"Before Mr. Fool grew up
Asg he ended the Second Era and created the Third Era. His status reached the level of the ancient sun god and creator of Silver City. He could be considered the thickest golden thigh in 'Lord of Mysteries.'"
She paused, recalling the interview with Cuttlefish, which had revealed that the Ancient Sun God in the old civilization was not only a gifted scientist but also from a superpower that disintegrated in the last century. "Although I don't know if I'll ever have the chance to apply for a job with Asg or even if I'll meet Asg alive, it's always better to be prepared."
Half an hour later, Meng Xian and Zhou Mingrui, each carrying a small stool, settled around the coffee table for their improvised meal. The living room, devoid of a dedicated dining table, served as their makeshift dining area.
Meng Xian had gone to the vegetable market the previous day to gather ingredients, knowing that Zhou Mingrui's arrival meant a special meal was in order.
The coffee table was now a feast for the eyes and the palate, adorned with a variety of dishes: silky egg custard, crisp stir-fried vegetables, pumpkin with egg yolk, tender braised spareribs, juicy braised prawns, tangy sweet and sour pork tenderloin, savory pork tripe, and a fragrant chicken soup. Each dish was prepared with care, showcasing a delightful mix of colors and aromas.
As they enjoyed their meal, Zhou Mingrui glanced up, a curious look on his face.
"Although Russian is a major language among minor languages, it's still relatively niche. If you really want to enhance your job prospects, wouldn't learning English be more practical? How's your English, by the way?"
Meng Xian, while savoring her deluxe clear soup noodles with extra ingredients, replied with a hint of amusement, "You're a hardware engineer, and you're asking me about this?"
Zhou Mingrui paused, his fork midway to his mouth. He knew well that hardware engineers and software programmers had to be proficient in English to stay current with the latest technologies. English was the language of technical documentation, research papers, and industry updates.
"Emmmm..." he started, searching for words. "I guess that's true."
Most engineers can read and write English well enough to keep up with their field,"
Meng Xian continued, "but often, they're only familiar with the technical vocabulary specific to their industry." She smiled, remembering her own journey with the language. "I've learned Russian almost completely. At least, I have no problem with verbal communication."
With a mischievous grin, Meng Xian switched to English, her accent only slightly distinguishable.
"And beside, I know how to speak English."
Zhou Mingrui's eyes widened in surprise. Despite his own basic understanding of English, he was impressed by Meng Xian's fluent and nearly American-accented English.
"Is it the same self-study method as Russian? Did you use original English books to help you understand?" he asked, genuinely curious.
Meng Xian reflected on her methods. "Well, for English, I watched English movies, listened to English music, and read English books. As a writer, I've always had an interest in English literature."
Looking at Zhou Mingrui with a mix of amusement she asked, "Why do you ask?"
Zhou Mingrui shook his head with a smile. "Nothing, I'm just curious. And honestly, you're amazing. Most people wouldn't have the patience to learn a new language on their own, and you did it through self-study."
Meng Xian's eyes softened, and she responded calmly, "As I said, mastering a foreign language may really save your life at a critical moment."
Zhou Mingrui simply hummed in response, taking another bite of the sweet and sour pork. The room was filled with a comfortable silence as they enjoyed their meal together