Does not know how to spell(lol)


Two conversations recorded online between Canton&Beijing.


BJ: /Hey, Canton./

CT:/Yo, Ms. Capital of China, what up?/

BJ:/Is everything alright, lately?/

CT:/Everything is sweet as ever, why the strange question?/

BJ:/I heard about...what happened, at the factory./


CT:/You heard, did you? Ms. Captial, if you'll excuse me for asking, which Beijing am I talking to?/

BJ: (after a long silence, as if she were writing and rewriting the answer to Canton's question, searching for the right words) /You are talking to the one who stood in front of the tanks, 29 years ago./


CT:/It's really you?/

BJ:/It's me. And I'm asking because, I want to know if you are really okay./

CT:/Honestly speaking, this has happened thousands of times before. No exaggerations. So... I...don't feel that different./ 

BJ:/Did you recieve my response?/

CT:/From the university students? Yes I did. Thank you...for them. I read them all. And the letters from Hong Kong, and from them overseas folk./

BJ:/It was the least I could do./

CT:/Quite the contrary my dear, it was the most you could have done. And in all honesty, it's all that I can hope for./

BJ:/Hey, Canton, I might have to go now, don't have a lot of time tonight, but, you know I'm here./

CT:/I know./

It's not getting better is it?

Not for a while, no. 

When do you think it'll be settled?

I don't know. I don't know. I don't even know if I want to see it over. It's been long since such things caught so much attention.It's been a while.


BJ:/Hey, sry to spring this on you all of a sudden, but could you tell me... what your actual thoughts are, regarding this particular event?/

CT:/Much the same as the thousands before it, and the countless happening in many places other than myself./

BJ:/Yes, it is similar. But this is the one that caught the most attention. I mean, there is not much that my students are willing to speak openly about, anymore, but they did, about this event. That's what initially drew my attention./

CT:/Well, this is all over the internet, I'm not surprised or anything. But, you are not asking the question you really want to ask, Beijing. Come on, get it over with./

BJ:/You don't feel as if this might turn into anything?/

CT:/No. I know my people, Ms. Capital./

BJ:/...alright...I apologize for being...a bit over paranoid...about this...it's just, I heard you guys singing. I heard the song, Canton. I heard it. /

CT:/Internationale? Perfectly normal./

BJ:/I know. I just...I wouldn't want you to... to tear yourself apart like this, like I did./

CT:/Don't worry. Everything will work itself out. I mean, you must admit, we're all pretty torn right now./

BJ:/Just...hang in there./

CT:/I will. All of us, we always have./

FLAG×四or more



1. Genetic Engineering (featuring: 生物/社会学/医学/政治/传媒/Theology)


The box lay open and waiting, like an open mouth, and she couldn't see the teeth, which were supposed to be hidden from sight until you got too close and...well...saw too late, but she knew the teeth were there. Right around the corner, right behind their emotionless faces.

She probably had them behind her own face as well. No, she had to have them. Jungle Laws, man. They all know it, and you know it better than them.

She stood for a moment longer before Philosophy signalled for her to enter. Feeling somewhat alike to a Schrodinger's cat, she walked towards the box. Oh, the outcomes, the outcomes! Not simply Death or Life but SO MANY MORE! Which shall it be? Which shall it be? 

A question of no relevance whatsoever was called to her mind at this particular moment: The cat itself, will know, if it is dead, won't it? 

Will it?

Can it?

She stared at the teeth, and wondered if she was dead already.

She was about one step away when Geography grabbed hold of her arm and they exchanged a last minute conversation.


/Geography: Hey, Biology? You'll be fine. Don't worry too much about it, just go in there, and tell them what you believe. You do...believe, right?/

/Biology(Genetics): Of course. And what about you? What is your view on the matter?/

/Geography: Neutral. Mostly./

/Biology (Genetics): Then...why have you come to wish me luck?/

/Geography: I just wanted to let you know that...um...I will support you for as long as your arguement can hold me, and then maybe a little farther. In other words, when it seems like no-one cares any longer and everyone's listening to themselves, I might want to listen to your opinions a little longer. But you know that I have my own...um.../

/Biology (Genetics): 利益?Don't we all./

/Geography: Yeah. Look, I know that this ain't a game with a clear winner, and this ain't a story someone invents for fun or writes on their laptop to either keep or delete. This is reality you're facing, that all of us, all of us are facing. I understand that. But even so, I want to wish you good luck, do you understand that?/

/Biology (Genetics): Ahh, of course. I understand it just like I know that you're simply saying these things to be dramatic about the gravity of the moment, but even so, I want to thank you./

Her arm was released, and she stepped inside.


2. The United Nations (Featuring: 社会学/政治/某些国家)

The League of Nations:

Together, they joined hands at the table. A final ceremony before the parting of their ways.


It was 1920, the 10th of January, Geneva. They'd just signed.

The United Nations:

None of the office lights were on, in fact, they‘d been turned off deliberately. In the darkness, Sociology shared a smile with the symbol engraved on the amulet’s white surface.

It was not a very creative symbol. In all truth it lacked imagination. But of course, it was not created by painters or artists or dreamers. It was crafted by dreamers of a different kind. 

She stared at the globe, drawn in blue paint, and the laurel leaves surrounding it, rimmed in gold. Yes, its meaning was all too straightforward. A politicians’Utopia.

She shut her eyes and let her hand fall to dangle from the armrests of the white office chair. Slowly, she allowed herself to drift off into a light sleep, knowing that the amulet would be clutched tight in her fingers the entire night until the sun rose to signal the dawn of another morning.

3. 关于传媒 (这个连搞都没打呢,大概会出现传媒,社会学和某些国家)

It is a story about the Media. About reporters and photographs and news stories and videos which changed the world. And about Asylums and Pentagons and battle fields and secrets all the dark corners where she was determined to let her light shine. If you will, you may believe that it is a story about truth, but who knows?



明天就要去夏校了我好紧张啊啊啊啊,keep calm and play with Lofter.jpg (捂脸)


当神学神化 (读完The Five People you meet in Heaven 之后深深中毒, 虽然学得不太准)

She raised both hands as if to straighten out the short locks of her silver hair, but stopped short and let her hands fall back to her side.
She sighed, as if deep in thought, and closed her eyes.
She did not part her lips, yet they all heard her words.
'It is thanks to all of you that I am able to become who I truely am. To connect so many lives, to know so many stories, to behold so many truths. By destroying the part of me that needed to go, you have saved me. And to that I am forever indebted. I am confident that our story shall continue, together, for even the tiny bit of hope in the face of despair is an endless possibility. And I have hope. I have hope.'
The others listened in silence to what seemed to be the final testimony they'd ever hear. And her back was to them so that they could not see her face, but they had the impression that as the words fell, her figure was changed. Her hair seemed to fall through an infinite amount of space, until its ends could no longer be detected. And its colour was not a harsh white, but everchanging, from white to black to red to gold, so swiftly that it seemed to possess no color at all. And her voice too, was changed with the words she spoke, from one to two to more and more until it was a choir of a million different languages, and it was no longer coherent words but all the words from all of these languages that ever formed to mean Hope. But they weren't words at all, but a wordless melody that seemed to stretch infinitely onwards until the End and to the past all the way to the Beginning, except there was no end, and no beginning, and each moment, each story connects with the one and the one with the other and the other with the next until it was an infinite number of individual stories but the stories were all one.
And when she turned, at long last they saw, to their surprise, that there was nothing divine about her features, or her eyes, that it was only a pair of human eyes, but so filled with emotion that it could easily have been a million pairs of eyes, and they realized that her voice, although heavenly in sound, was indeed no more than a mixure of those million voices, speaking out their Hope. And her face, her face was not alike any one face. Her skin did not possess a particular color, and she seemed to be at once all the humans that exist on earth and all that have existed and all that will exist, and as they peered into that face they saw the child that asks ignorant questions and the old man who is minutes away from death, and the religious and the nonereligious, and the scientists, scholars, artists and ordinary people from every corner of the world, and the good and the evil, the saints and the sinners, and all those remembered by history and also all those forgotten, and they saw that all of the faces were changing constantly from the child to the old man and that their races and beliefs and experiences were all different but that the faces were all one.


朝闻道,夕死可矣for me too



Explanation of why I wrote this:
I am fully aware that it is the wrong impression. But while I was reading, I was given the impression that the author had drawn a line between science and the humanities and secluded the latter from the alter of truth, confining them to earth, telling them that their duty and the meaning of their lives mattered not to the truth, and mattered only to the human race, only to the mundane routines which make up daily life. That their imagination, their agony, their dreams, their hope and despair, would be either not of reality, not of good intentions, or not of the universe.

I know and respect that the author's focus here is science. And I know that my feeling of resentment comes not from the author's implication, but from what I feel of the implication of many of his READERS. Students who will read the text and further justify themselves, and who will continue to believe that the humanities digs a tunnel down to earth to further confine the human race whereas science is the one who sets it free. I do not deny that this opinion hurts me. Naturally for a person like myself who has laid so much of her faith on the humanities, I wish to see questions asked by its experts too, as some sort of proof that it is not so much lacking in meaning and significance when comparised with the sciences. I wish to see its experts stand on the altar, ask their question, either recieve or not recieve their answers, or to be told that their questions have no answer, and then to die knowing the truth, or to live knowing the question cannot be answered. I wish to join them, and not be told by the crowd, by the scientists, or by the 排险者himself that the altar is for science only. I do not wish to see only the politicians, appearing as a symbol of ignorance before the scientists willing to give their lives. For this wish, I blame my own greed and ignorance and not the author's words. And so, I shall venture to suggest several question which may be asked by people of the humanities. Perhaps it is only my imagination, but I believe the effects of curiosity and longing for an ultimate truth and the willingness to give their lives for such can be found in a great number of people from different fields and beliefs and is not a feature special to science.

Here are the questions I will want to ask: I fully admit that they are not deep enough, and are far from being deep enough, but I will still wish to ask them. Maybe I will eventually come to understand one or two of them in the course of my life.

Other questions:
On Ethics: Do good and evil exist? What is Good? What is Evil?
Do our moral standards actually possess meaning or significance? Or it is just another meaningless yet usedul invention to prevent our species from extinction?
On Religion: Does heaven(and all the other words from all the religions which imply such a place) exist?
On Philosophy: Is the universe a reality? How do you prove it?
What is Love?
What is Truth?
On Politics and Sociology: Is Utopia achievable? Or is there some internal logical barrier that will forever prevent mankind from reaching it? If so, what of other Societies in the Universe? Have any of them achieved it?
On History: Does History exist? Is History really a cycle of seemingly timed events?
Is History decided and unchangable or a stream of coincidential and logical events?
What really happened in (certain time period)? Could it have happened another way?
On Language:
Is a universal language possible? Is it enforceable? Is it 'right'?
Is each different language significant? Or are they all just randomly formed and randomly changed out of the circumstances they happen to be in?
Does language have 'beauty'? If so, does the beauty of a language weigh more or less than its usefulness? Or even, its survival?
On Culture:
Can a culture be discribed as 'more beautiful' than another? Or, 'better' than another?
Is the loss of the old and the arrival of the new inevitable? Can it be turned in the other direction? Should it?
If not, why do we feel sadness to their loss? Is it because they actually have meaning, or is it because we cannot handle our emotions?

and finally, the most important question of all:
Because I can fit all I've just written into a sentence with a question mark at the end, so I'd really like to know...What actually counts as 'one' question?(皮这一下很开心)

I wrote this mostly to satisfy myself, but perhaps, also, to call to those, who, in their mind, have closed 刘慈欣's altar of truth to everyone other than people of science. I believe that this is not the intention of the author, and it is definitely not my wish. I address those who, if they had been the 排险者, would have closed the altar to the religious or to the artists, poets, politicians and other 'dreamers' of the world. I hope that, after reading these questions, that you may open your altar a little more to other fields and beliefs, so that when you finally meet and converse with such people, your mind shall regard then as allays and not as adversaries, and come to understand that they too, deserve to stand on the altar of truth.




As far as History knew, she was once a dreamer like everyone else, and now she has grown out of the dream, like everyone else eventually did. But in her own memories, she had come, quite literally, from heaven, where she’d been an angle at God’s feet.
She had come down, to free mankind from their suffering.
History, of course, believes not a word of the sentence above.
Correction, she had come down from heaven, to see if there was a possibility of enforcing some sort of order on man. Whether the original intention was for man to govern themselves and help one another and live happily ever after, or for her to be recognized as a god for ‘ending their suffering’, is unknown. But we can suppose that she had a bit of each. To rule, to save, to be praised as a savior, and to be remembered was what she wished.
However, the task was not as easy as predicted. For even in the simplest logics of mankind there are dark corners which lie in waiting and out of sight, each a trap for the kind soul.
But of course, civilization had not formed any logic when she arrived on earth, so the reader may safely assume the above to be a delusional sentence formed out of an over-excited mind.
The real reason of her fall, as is with every dreamer, was that she had over simplified the situation.
I will not go on about the historical details of how she fell, for that is not the focus of today’s narrative. The focus comes a little nearer to now. To present day.
To make a long story short, she never returned.
She was changed by humans just as the Earth had been. She was changed and changed until the day came when heaven could no longer accept her. She was trapped on Earth.
I believe it will be important to relate, in the following paragraph, the appearances of such angelic creatures. For they are beautiful, you see, but not with an unnatural beauty. As for Politika, her hair was not white, her eyes were not blue or red or golden, her skin was not pale, no, she did not look like a corpse with wings. And she did not think a white cloth counted as fashionable wear. Surely, it would bore his magnificence the Creator if all angels looked the same. In truth, she had a slightly yellow shade of skin, but healthy, and her cheeks were quite red. Her hair was brown, and long, and curly, and she wore whatever she wanted. The two things you did get right are her wings: they are white, pure white, with white feathers.
They took her wings, and they covered her up in black ink. Then they poured blood all over her, and they waited until she was unrecognizable, the they covered her entire body with white dust, until her skin was so pale it shone. Then, they fried her hair straight, cut it to a perfectly straight line at the shoulder, dyed every strand of it white, and that was that.
History insists that she was born that way, with white hair, gray eyes, pale skin like a walking corpse. But of course, History never believed the ‘come down from heaven’ theory either.
And that is how she remained in appearance up to this very day. It is said that every night she powders her skin and dyes her hair for fear that the ink and blood would show, and every month she cuts her hair to the same, exact, straight line.
Overall, she has not led a disappointing history. In her youth she teamed up with Religion and Philosophy to impliment her ‘order’. Then, when Religion broke down she took up lead position and began to ignore Philosophy’s questions. In this process, she was constantly changing, constantly learning and growing too. Overall, a great many wars but no big disappointments.
To her, however, everything was disappointing.
It is very important to note that all of them grew up in likewise fashion, from dreamer to realist. Yet she remains the most sensitive and solemn out of all her fellow subjects. Never laughing or smiling easily, never doing without purpose written in mind, never walking slowly, never seen with her head down.
It is true that History has seen a lot, yes. Yet laughs, sometimes too much, she jokes, she does numerous pointless things, and she makes you wonder how a person can be so outwardly hopeful and so inertly hopeless at the same time.
It is true that Religion had seen a lot. Yet she gets tired occasionally and shows it. She is humorous in her own way, quite easy to talk to on most days, and above all, she is kind.
It is true that Sociology has seen a lot. Yet she is the most easy-going and social of them all. She smokes, she drinks, she gossips. She can dance just as Art can and sing maybe even better. She does not care to hide her emotions, but she is rarely serious about anything.
Politics is different. She is always grave, and purposeful, and devious. One never knows what is on her mind, for she will never say what she truly means. One cannot unhinge her ground by joking around with her, or even by logical reasoning. She is too solid in her own logic. Sometimes, it seems that she cares too much about too little. Yet one cannot make fun of her either, for she is too powerful. One can never trust the words from her mouth, even if one had been acquainted with her for thousands of years, and one can never trust the emotions that seem to appear on her face. If it helps with your conscious, you can pretend, for the sake of things, that she is kind, and that she really did come down from heaven, and that all her faults are cast onto her by man. She is, after all, in a way, man’s creation.
Sociology, the only person who is capable of making fun of Politics and getting away with it, has summed up the features of her face in one sentence of a song: “这是最后的斗争,团结起来到明天。”
You can how terrible and shocking it is to see such a face cry.
This is a story about when she cried.
It was after the end of the Second World War, everyone who was dead was dead. Heaven received their souls. It’s funny that some of us spend our whole lives worrying about where we will go, yet assume immediately when a huge disaster happens that all the dead go to heaven. But who am I to criticize. I have just wished the same.
Biology, Physics, Chemistry and some of the other natural sciences had stood around with their head in their hands talking about how everything was their fault. It was no bluff, all of them were sincere. In fact, it got so bad that they went as far as to consider if what Religion thought about them was true, and then Religion had to step out and say that (s)he didn’t think such things about them. All this time, the Social Sciences listened in silence and repeated in their hearts that it was everybody’s fault.
But out of them, one person alone thought it was all her own fault.
Yes, you have guessed it.
She tried at first. Tried to comfort the sciences. Because she was feeling unbearably guilty.
Sure, she had seen wars before, but this one…
She tried her best at wording her thoughts. When that failed, she gave up and spoke the truth.
“It’s my fault, seriously. But it’s alright, I’ll find a way to deal with it. I will fix this. I will. Don’t worry, and don’t feel pressure or anything. Just carry on with your research and studies. We’ll work this out.”
She even managed a smile.
History is not sure whether the sciences were convinced, but the truth was that they left the room at that moment. And the truth was that the moment they left, Politics hung her head, and wept.
Her tears fell in silence. A terrible, terrible silence as everyone around her stared. And for a moment, History believed the story about her coming down from heaven. In fact, she could almost see the black ink and red blood underneath her tear tracks, screaming out of the white powder of her pale skin.
But a second later, it was gone. Her face was dry and calm as a sheet of paper. Emotionless. Maybe a little grave. A face for mourning, not a face of heartbreak.
“I’ll deal with this.” Was all she said.
Then, Sociology produced a bottle of wine and they promptly proceeded to get themselves quite drunk.
She wandered outside, into the street. And found with surprise that someone else was in the same situation.
Medicine stood in his white coat and gloves. As if he’d just walked out of the emergency room and was now searching for the dead man’s soul among the stars.
His eyes were empty and cold under the dying light of the street lamp. He was awake, yes, the same person as the one under sunlight? Probably not.
Politics glanced down and half expected to see a scalpel protruding from between his gloved fingers.
Medicine did not miss her glance. Without turning to her, he spoke.
“Are you afraid of me?”
Good question, she thought. And it was true that under such a strange light and dressed in such manner he did look slightly unnerving, like a madman finding freedom for the first time. And there was something about his eyes which she’s never noticed before. Something that could only show at night, when you see the stars reflected there, and you realize that his eyes are so dark that the stars melt away into them. She remembered the chemical warfare, all those experiments, human experiments. It was like in a movie, when the protagonist meets the villain by chance, and the villain suddenly reveals himself to be the real killer or something.
But then, she realized that it was not such a scene. No matter how scary he looks, he is only an actor. An actor in a horror film with his villain laugh and scary makeup but an actor all the same, and he will be changed as soon as you turn the camera away. Because he is not the real killer.
I am.
In an even voice she replied,
“You should be afraid of me.”
The stars winked down at them. She could not imagine what they looked like reflected in her eyes.
The ground seemed to rise up and grip her feet. She was upside down, the sky an abyss over her head.
Then, she wondered, as people often do when the night gets to them. She wondered if the sun would ever rise.
She remembered the number of deaths. She wondered if she took the first six digits out and drew them in a chart what they would mean. In a third dimensional graph, they’d mean a dot. She wondered if she did this with all the wars there’d be a picture formed out of the dots. She wondered what it would mean. 它会是什么样子呢?一把手枪?一个圆?一只竖着中指的手? That, she admitted, was quite funny.
Slowly, she repeated the words to herself, words which had been a joke to her before.
Then, she said goodnight to him, and went inside.
A few weeks after, laws were being passed, wounds were being closed, blood was being washed away, and she was back to her old self.




/We belong to the night/

!The night is ours!
//She ruled the night//那个/能歌善舞的/月亮/
Hey,艺术//Do you/do You/do you/believe/believe in/believe in LOve/?
/SomeOne's in Love ToNight/
“Do you believe in love?”
“Love? I know too well the feeling of wanting to protect the one you love. I never would have thought anything could hold me down like this. Not ME! Not like THIS! Oh, my dear, Love is a burden. But Love Completes Me.”
“Love. Love is a glorious purpose.”
然后语言会冲艺术微笑。但她的眼睛里不会出现艺术所期待的purpose/burden/completion/or glory.

/Best night of/ HER/ life/
“Do you believe in love?”
“I do not believe in true love, only true happiness.”
“My dear! How do you not believe in true love? Oh I am hurt qwq 宝宝need安慰。”
“But I believe in the freedom to love.”
“对! 没错! 我同意! 彩虹旗飞起!”
/A Kiss/is/is like/is like a vow/
“Do you believe in true love now?”
“Love is in all that's beautiful and natural and true.”

她穿得像个super model。他连白大褂都没有脱。但ta们二人之间没有任何多余的距离。
/TrUe Love is Glorious/True Love is Equal/True Love is Hard/
“Do you--?”
“Oh, love. Love is an illusion. But nevertheless a beautiful illusion."
“Love is a need. Just like the need to breath.”
“Yes, that's right. That's the right answer.”

/Oh the Night!/ This NIGHT!/
!Everybody is Dancing!
In onestwosthreesfours
All the way till   .. ..          .  . Daylight
/Do you Feel the/Love/Do you feel the/FREEDOM/
在灯光之下,let music unite us


科学永远无法回答的。AT least. Not Tonight.
“Do you believe in love?”
“Love? I breathe smoke into the skies of the souless cities, and marvel at the love happening in its plastic streets. Interesting, the dispicable and beautiful forms it can take. Messy and yet satisfying to behold.”
“It is an emotion I fear and try to let go of. But I understand fully what it is. Do not think that the stone-faced politicians did not have hearts. Love, it is their burden and their most humane weakness.”
"Here's to love."

We. WE belong To the Night.

历史呢? 不跟她们在一起?
“我刚才还在中间跟政治嗨呢,你没看见。” 她说。
“Love, huh? Love brings pain, just as hope ends with despair. But I suppose, if you don't live forever, it could be good for you.”
/R U/ Impressed/ With my answer?/ R U/ Satisfied?/ Or/ IS there SOMEONE/ U R/ Thinking OF?/
That question wasnt for me. It never will be. And I wont need it.
?Who/ R U/ thinking of?

“Hey,...um...HEY!” 他快步走了过去。等走到她面前又尴尬地站定。
“Hey.” 她说。
“Do you...do you believe in love?”
“Love. To love means to understand and accept every particle of another soul. To accept its light and its darkness. Everything. Love is most selfish and most selfless. It is the most that I am able ro believe.”
He had found the night.
The reason. the question. The answer.

And they danced their hearts out till the dawn.




艺术: Love. Wanting to protect the ones you love.
Never would have thought anything could hold me down like this, ME!
(sigh) Love is a burden. But love completes me.
语言: Love is a glorious purpose.
地理: Love is in all thats beautiful and natural and true.
心理(看向医学): Love is an illusion. But nevertheless a beautiful illusion.
医学(看向心理学): Love is a need. Just like the need to breath.
社会学(抽着烟): Love? I breathe smoke into the skies of the souless cities, and marvel at the love happening in its plastic streets. Interesting, the dispicable and beautiful forms it can take. Messy and yet satisfying to behold.
政治(smiles for the first time in forever): It is an emotion I fear and try to let go of. But I understand fully what it is. Do not think that the stone-faced politicians did not have hearts. Love, it is their burden and their most humane weakness.
哲学: Love is...difficult.
生物: I do not believe in true love, only true happiness. But I believe in the freedom to love.
历史: Love brings pain, just as hope ends with despair. But I suppose, if you don't live forever, it could be good for you.
神学: To love means to understand and accept every particle of another soul. To accept its light and its darkness. Everything. Love is most selfish and most selfless.


Part One: 一些非常短小的设定(都是最基础的东西,懒得看可以直接跳过):

1.     语言:文科的基础思维,但是在文科组里不掌权。‘没有王位的帝王’。平时说话毒舌,但心机不重,为人善良。做事被动,‘不被需要就没有意义’。政治观点偏liberal(自由民主平等etc), 非常支持言论自由。

2.     政治 (政治虐我千百遍,我带政治如初恋):妹子。白头发。不喜欢说话。特别有心机。世界观偏悲观。政治观点偏conservative。是文科中实际掌权的科目。

3.     历史:妹子。黑长直。Sassy,爱吐槽. 为人处事不拘小节。在所有问题中都保持中立。

4.     地理:妹子。半文半理的‘人格分裂’。文科里的活宝。话痨。政治观点很liberal.

5.     神学:性别不定。算是文科。。。吧。原来留着长发,后来剪成披肩发,颜色白偏灰。年轻的时候特别激进,如今变得更加温柔and包容(也沧桑了不少)。

6.     哲学:神秘男子。性格是个谜。文理是个谜。不怎么说话,如果说话一定会说很迷的话。不经常与其他科目交往。平时看似在发呆其实在思考。

7.     艺术:可男可女。文理是个谜。Very liberal。时而高冷时而‘亲民’。做事很随性。

8.     生物:妹子。性格善良单纯但偶尔会问出一些引人深思的问题。理科中的活宝。热爱大自然。

9.     医学:生物的brother. 性格其实没有人们想象的那么善良。做事严谨。SQ理科最高。

10.  心理学:软萌妹子。EQ爆表。心机不重。喜欢观察别人,但这么做的时候不会让别人觉得不舒服。

11.  化学:直直直直男。高冷但不严肃,偶尔皮一下可萌了。EQ为负。经常会用自己的皮肤做实验所以手上有各种伤痕。

12.  物理:男。说直不直似gay非gay。 平时take pleasure in各种无形的装B。 皮起来谁也比不过他。SQ在理科里算比较高的。

13.  数学:高冷男。理科的基础思维and在理科中掌权。表面各种皮各种单纯,其实心机是理科里最重。从某一方面说是理科中IQ最高。做事之前一定会再三思考。


Part Two: 段子×5 (主地理生物,但其实人物很多)





“ Magic。”





今天她们聊天的内容是‘真理’。对此生物表示自己的立场非常坚定,所以她要尝试着怼一怼地理,here she is right in the middle of proving   a   point,










“不带你这样的!话说一半把人吊着!” (地理内心:omg生物你好萌不行我。。。)












3.有一次物理突然脑抽,不知道从哪里弄来了一副达芬奇在1485年设计的扑翼机(就是一种按道理能让人飞起来但其实什么用也没有的翅膀),说他想看看能不能飞。理科们都觉得这太物理了,反正劝也劝不住。文科不太       care. 只有地理比较着急。






物理(选择性屏蔽地理刚刚的话):“谢啦!” 他向后退了几步,











地理(突然炸毛):“你没有我还能飞得起来?” 于是她一股气流把物理吹了下来。









4. 各种对生物伸出手术刀。

1)医学对生物伸出手术刀。医学:I will cut you into a million pieces!



2)神学对生物伸出手术刀。神学:I will cut you into a million pieces!



5. 某一天地理突然闯进理科办公室,转身把门一锁。



















数学:“em, 你还是快点走吧。”


Note:IQ: Intelligence  SQ: Spiritual  EQ: Emotional

To be continued.