Although the four of them had taken a city bus to the library, Lancy still brought a sunshade umbrella for the less-than-five-minute walk from the bus stop to the library. This somewhat pretentious behavior was met with ridicule and teasing from the three boys. Especially when Cotton compared her to a bat that couldn't stand sunlight, prompting Lancy to swing her fists at him. The two of them playfully bickered all the way to the library entrance. Lu Hua raised a finger to his lips and said, "Shh," signaling that it was time to quiet down.
"Hey, Wen Ye, what a coincidence!" Lu Hua greeted him cheerfully, as if he had found a kindred spirit. "Are you here to do some research too?"
"Yeah," Wen Ye nodded, "to finish those history and political science essays."
"Same here." Sean tilted his head toward the inside of the library. "Are there any other classmates from our class inside?"
"No, at least I didn't see any. Alright, I'll be off now. See you." Wen Ye waved to the four of them and headed out of the library.
Lancy watched Wen Ye's retreating figure and whispered to Lu Hua, "Good thing you remembered his name. If I ran into him alone, I probably wouldn't even recall his last name."
"Really?" Lu Hua looked surprised. "We've been classmates for a year, and you still don't know his name?"
"It's not my fault—his presence in class is practically nonexistent. It's bad enough that his appearance isn't memorable, but he barely says anything either. Like just now, he didn't even speak more than three sentences before rushing off," Lancy said, pouting.
Cotton also watched Wen Ye's retreating figure, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, he's pretty reclusive. Last semester, he sat behind me, and I don't think I heard him say more than twenty sentences the entire term. Whenever we asked him to play ball or something, he'd always refuse—no idea what's going on in his head all day."
"I heard his parents died in a car accident. His life's been pretty tough," Lu Hua sighed. "Let's not dwell on it. Come on, let's head in."
This was an old library with quite a bit of history. Lu Hua didn't know how many years it had existed in the city, but he knew it had been here long before he was born. Compared to the newly built, five-story modern library in the city, this place seemed small and outdated. But Lu Hua didn't like the new library; he was fond of this one. Its appeal went beyond the books—the faint scent of ink and the strong sense of history captivated him deeply—something you couldn't experience in the electronic reading rooms of the new library. There was also another reason: he had grown close to the elderly librarian who had worked here for fifteen years, almost like family.
At that moment, the elderly librarian, sitting right across from the library entrance, was listlessly slouched over the wooden desk. His elbow propped up his drooping head, while his other hand lazily swatted at mosquitoes and boredom.
"Hey, Old Luo," Lu Hua greeted him familiarly as he walked up, followed by the other three.
The old librarian perked up slightly upon seeing Lu Hua. He straightened his posture and said, "Hey, boys—oh, and a lovely young lady."
"Your mental state really looks awful, Old Luo," Lu Hua said bluntly.
Old Luo shook his head and replied, "Working in a place like this doesn't exactly do wonders for one's mental state." He complained, "I don't know if people just don't come to the library anymore, or if they've all gone to the new electronic library. Look, there haven't been even thirty people here all day—this place has gotten almost as quiet as a cemetery in the suburbs. Sigh, Lu Hua, people like you who love knowledge and learning are so rare nowadays."
Lu Hua shrugged helplessly, turned to the right, and noticed a few more bookshelves outside the reading room, piled with various books. He asked, "Why are these books outside the reading room?"
Old Luo replied, "These are old books the librarian cleared out. Some are a bit damaged, and a few pages have fallen off. But in my opinion, most of them are still perfectly fine—just a little old."
"So, these are the ones they're planning to sell?" Lu Hua asked. "How much are they per book?"
"The thick ones are three yuan each, and the thin ones are one yuan."
"So cheap!" Lu Hua's eyes lit up. Cotton, Lancy, and Sean exchanged glances, knowing that Lu Hua's collecting habit had kicked in again.
"Hey… did you guys hear that?" Lu Hua turned around to face his three companions. "These books are only two or three yuan each! Let's hurry over and pick some out!"
Cotton reminded him, "Class monitor, you're the only one excited about this kind of thing."
Lu Hua furrowed his brow slightly but didn't respond. He walked straight to the bookshelves and started picking out books. The other three, unable to find anything else to do, followed him.
The moment Lu Hua's hand touched the first book, he almost shouted out in excitement. He forced himself to suppress the joy rising inside and whispered, "Oh my god, this 1979 edition of Faust is only… three yuan?"
Clearly, Cotton and the others didn't recognize the value of the book. Lancy quietly reminded him, "You'd better flip through the pages to see if any are missing."
"No, you don't understand," Lu Hua said with a beaming face. "The value and significance of this book go far beyond its content. It represents an era, a symbol of the spirit and culture of that time!"
Cotton and Lancy shrugged in unison, signaling their lack of understanding. The group then scattered to look at different books.
"Ah, the 1982 edition of The Red and the Black!"
"The Hound of the Baskervilles… the English original—thank God!"
Lu Hua kept discovering treasures, repeating his excitement over and over. He stacked the books he had picked out at one end of the bookshelf, and before he knew it, he had a rather large pile.
Cotton flipped through a collection of science fiction short stories and found it quite interesting, leaning against the wall as he read with relish. Meanwhile, Lancy, who had been idly flipping through books, surprisingly found one she liked—100 Ways to Make Desserts. As she read the instructions for making honey cupcakes, she quietly thanked Lu Hua for forgetting the original reason he brought her here.
As the group became absorbed in their own worlds, Sean, who was separated from them by a bookshelf, suddenly spoke up: "What is this?"
Leaning against the wall, Cotton looked up and noticed Sean's puzzled expression. He walked over and asked, "What did you find?"
Sean handed Cotton an old, yellowed booklet and said, "Here, take a look. What kind of book is this?"
Leaning against the wall, Cotton looked up and noticed Sean's puzzled expression. He walked over and asked, "What did you find?"
Sean handed Cotton an old, yellowed booklet and said, "Here, take a look. What kind of book is this?"
Cotton carefully took the thin booklet. The reason he was so cautious was that the paper looked like it had been around for hundreds of years. It was yellow and brittle, almost giving the sensation that it would crumble into dust at the slightest touch. At the same time, a musty odor, accumulated over many years, rushed into his nostrils, making him feel nauseous. Cotton flipped the booklet up and down, noticing the strange detail that had caught Sean's attention—
The book had no title, only a foreign name printed at the bottom of the cover: "Mars. Barthes," which seemed to be the author's name. Aside from that, both the front and back covers were blank. Even more bizarre was the absence of basic information like the print date and edition; there was nothing of the sort to be found anywhere in the book. When he opened it, the first page contained two sentences in a foreign language that he couldn't understand. From the second page onward, each page featured a short foreign poem.
Cotton asked Sean, who was fluent in both Chinese and English, "What is this book about?"
Sean shook his head. "I don't know either. The text in this book isn't English."
Their conversation caught the attention of Lu Hua and Lancy, who walked over from the other side of the bookshelf. Lu Hua asked, "What are you two talking about?"
Cotton handed the book to him. "It's a strange foreign poetry collection. I can't tell what language it's written in."
Lu Hua took it, flipped through a couple of pages, and said, "It's a French poetry collection."
Lancy leaned over to take a quick glance at the strange, incomprehensible text on the book and turned to ask Lu Hua, "You can still understand French?"
Lu Hua replied, "I studied a little out of interest before, but it's impossible to understand the whole thing—I can only make out some simple words and phrases. Huh, this book doesn't even have a title?"
Cotton shrugged. "And no publishing information either. Can a book like this even be published?"
Lu Hua furrowed his brow. "I was just thinking the same thing."
Sean said with interest, "Let's see what it says."
Lu Hua opened the first page of the book and saw two simple lines in French:
"Interdire humanité lire Cinq"
Lu Hua admitted that using the basic French he learned out of interest last summer was quite difficult at this moment. He struggled, recalling each word, and slowly pieced together the first sentence: "Prohibit… reading… humanity…"
A few seconds later, he translated the sentence:"Prohibit humanity from reading."
After reading this, a sudden shock ran through him. He looked up and met the gazes of the other three.
The four of them stared at each other in silence for a while, before Cotton finally said, "Are you sure you didn't make a mistake in the translation?"
Lu Hua lowered his head again, studying carefully, his lips moving silently. After a few seconds, he raised his head and said firmly, "I'm sure this is the correct translation."
"Prohibit humanity from reading?" Lancy said, half-amused and half-confused, "Then who's this book for—animals? Plants?"
Sean pointed at the word below the sentence and asked, "What does this 'Cinq' mean?"
Lu Hua thought for a moment, then replied, "It means 'five'."
"So, does that mean this book is the fifth one in this poetry collection?" Sean asked.
"That seems to be the case."
Cotton felt his curiosity completely piqued, and eagerly urged, "Hurry up, see what it says inside!"
Lu Hua hesitated for a moment before flipping to the next page. After reading for two minutes, he shook his head in frustration. "These poems are beyond my basic French skills—though, if I go home and look them up in a French dictionary, I can definitely translate them."
"Are you really going to take this 'Prohibit Humanity from Reading' weird book home?" Lancy asked.
Lu Hua nodded slightly. "I want to see what's so strange about this book."
Cotton, who had been watching the page Lu Hua turned to, noticed something new. He pointed at the page number and said, "I'm not sure if you'll be able to understand this book, Lu Hua—this book seems to have serious page defects. Look, you're on the second page, but the page number printed is '13'."
Lu Hua finally noticed the page numbering issue. He quickly flipped through a few pages and said, "It seems this book was once disassembled and then rebound, but the pages were put back in the wrong order—oh, I found the first page now—looks like the earlier pages were placed at the back."
"So, this book isn't missing any pages, it's complete?" Cotton asked, excitedly. "Great! Lu Hua, translate it tonight and tell us tomorrow what weird stuff this book is all about!"
Lu Hua smiled wryly and said, "I'm afraid that's not possible. What do you take me for, a French professor? Translating a whole book in one night? I think it would be an achievement if I can translate a few of the poems completely."
"That's fine, at least we'll get a general idea," Cotton said.
"Alright, it's settled then," Sean said, clearly getting interested. "Tomorrow afternoon, let's all go to my place, and we'll have Lu Hua tell us what this poetry collection is about."
"Alright, let's go!" Cotton's impatience flared up again. "Lu Hua, you better not waste a single minute when you get home. Start translating right away. By the way, have you finished picking out the books you want?"
Lu Hua had actually planned to browse a little longer, but at that moment, his mind was consumed with curiosity about the mysterious poetry collection. He nodded to Cotton, "Okay, let's go."
Lu Hua walked up to the librarian, Old Luo, holding a thick stack of books. He placed them on the counter and said, "I'll take these. Please count them for me, Old Luo."
Old Luo casually waved his hand, "You can count them yourself and just tell me the total."
Lu Hua carefully counted the books, one by one, and then said, "Eleven thick ones, and four thin ones."
"Thirty-seven yuan," Old Luo quickly replied with the total.
Lu Hua took a 50 yuan note out of his pocket and handed it to Old Luo. As Old Luo was getting the change, he asked, "What were you all talking about over there just now?"
Lu Hua felt it wouldn't be wise to discuss the French poetry collection with Old Luo, who only had a primary school education, so he casually replied, "We were just deciding which books to pick."
Old Luo gave a noncommittal "hmm" and didn't press further. He handed Lu Hua the change and waved at the four of them, saying, "Come by often."
After leaving the library, Lu Hua was filled with a sense of joy as he carried the heavy stack of books in his arms. Eager to begin translating, he couldn't wait to catch a taxi home. Before he got in the car, Cotton reminded him several times to translate as much as he could. Afterward, Cotton, Sean, and Lancy walked together for a while in the fading light of the setting sun before heading their separate ways back home.