中文 Literacy Speedrun V: Into the Mountains
The bullet train flies out of Shenzhen at 300 kilometers per hour. At first it traverses factories and fields, interrupted by stops under towering station canopies. Hours in, a bridge lifts us over a river. After this, there is hardly level ground, but landscape yields to the locomotive as we go in and out of tunnels through karst mountain peaks.
I've made it to third tier city China. None of the signs contain English, so helpfully a taxi driver with a sign waits for me at the gate. Beside him is a spectacled student who had been on the same train. On the way to the language school, we introduce ourselves and he tells me he is an A.I. researcher on sabbatical. He will be studying for just over a month; we agree to not discuss LLMs for the three weeks that I am here.
In my first lesson of many, Teacher Y slides over a passage and asks me to read. I struggle one phrase at a time, having barely read paragraphs prior. Teacher L previously taught primary school. When she hears my Americanized accent she begins speaking methodically and brightly as if to a classroom of children. Teacher D asks me why I don't pause when I speak. I'm not sure what he means until I listen to the recording of the evening of my own rapid-fire voice.
It turns out I am missing 断句 (duànjù, prosody). D coaches me daily on my pace of speech. On top of that, I learn the tip of my tongue doesn't go far enough back for zhhhhh and chhhhh. I practice for hours in front of the mirror.
Y and L walk me through a textbook one chapter per day. I learn to read ahead a few characters to predict where sentences break to words, whereupon my comprehension flips a switch.
By my last week, I have infiltrated the teachers' lunch table. A new intern doesn't recognize I'm a student until I call paper currency 纸钱 (zhǐqián, paper money), which is ritual money burned as tribute at funerals.
Y tells me her favorite author is 加缪 (Jiāmiù, Camus), and we skip the rest of the lesson to talk about philosophy. D explains how every institution mirrors the state: a 党委 (dǎngwěi, Party committee) for political direction and an 行政 (xíngzhèng, administration) for operations. I ask him if the school needs a Party committee; he tells me he is the school's Party secretary.
。。。教学相长，老师们也学会了听完我的冷笑话还能笑得出来。
... Teacher and learner grow together: my teachers have learned to laugh at my terrible humor.
After my farewell dinner speech, my teachers suggest we pose for a picture. When I look back at this photo a few days later, I realize D's phone has automatically smoothed our faces. On the sides of my eyes, crow's feet of a bittersweet smile are lost to time.
The next day, I pack my bags for the journey home.
As the mountains pass by, I read a Chinese magazine.