Yian's World

A Playful Trial of Derivatives Author: Yi An (Another essay for a contest) Derivatives are a truly wonderful class of mathematical tools. Her beauty lies not in the twisted and inconceivable calculations of tedious conic sections, but in the mutual combination of a few simple, plain formulas. Just as the Big Bang generated the entire vast universe from a single singularity, she gives birth to detailed spaces that cannot even fit within the entire answer sheet. However, before commencing the ...

Stepping into Solitude He wrests my gaze from a row of vibrance with his damaged spine; his damaged cover seems to lonely declare how long he has accompanied me. He gazes coldly at the surrounding new, pristine books, then silently fades into the darkness alone. I can no longer recall when he came to my side, yet I have toured this colorful world again and again: the boundaries of the swamp that the gypsies had never seen; that strand of hair sleeping in the reliquary for a hundred years; tha...

Loneliness is tearing up books in class while the teacher turns a blind eye; Loneliness is a late-night heart-to-heart with an unsheathed craft knife; Loneliness is the countless moments of hesitation behind the balcony railing; Loneliness is the bitter medicinal powder that can only be barely swallowed with thick yogurt; Loneliness is treading upon the sunset glow, walking past the myriad lights just kindled, and stepping into a realm of nether gloom; Loneliness is the stacks of suicide note...

The Complete Instigation Manual Notes on the Night of Nov 20 We need to distinguish the nature of a madman burning down his own house—just as Schopenhauer distinguishes between starvation and ordinary suicide—from the act of calmly burning down one’s own house purely out of reason. We first demonstrate the correctness of this rational act; this is what I wrested from Schopenhauer’s hands. What will be discovered thereafter is the absolute rationality of this action. Schopenhauer ignored the o...

Many years later, I will surely recall that suicidal dusk. That was a cold winter at the end of the semester. I lay alone on the desk in the classroom, watching the movement outside the window, my hearing sensitive enough to catch the emotionless, rapid footsteps of the teacher in the building opposite. A low tinnitus hummed like the faint chirping of cicadas. Occasionally, I would suddenly hear a massive noise, causing my hands and feet to curl up into a ball inside my sleeves and clothes, l...

Once upon a time, there was a small blue river, winding like a ribbon around a vast green forest. Once upon a time, there was a vast green forest, guarding the wooden witch’s hut in its center. Once upon a time, there was a white-haired witch who lived within the green forest; she wore black earrings engraved with a golden sun and moon, bearing fine inscriptions upon them. The witch wore a cloak and magic robes made from the wings of the giant dragon of the mountains, possessing the deep blac...

Begin Yi An lived with grandpa and grandma throughout elementary school. On that day in the first grade, I saw grandpa and grandma and the house I would live in for the next seven years for the first time. The memories photographed are all golden photos. The empty land in front of grandma’s door had not yet been built upon; it was patches of green, with mulberry leaves I needed to feed the silkworms, all green plants. Later, reinforced concrete gradually appeared there, then the green plants ...

In the Counseling Room Today’s visitor was a boy. As soon as he sat down, his first sentence startled me. “I am afraid of all teachers.” What kind of boy is this? During this time that belongs to the classroom, why would he come here to me instead of attending class? Why does the sound of shoes treading on the playground and the roll calls of P.E. teachers keep drifting in from outside the window? This, like background music, seems to better explain the boy’s experience. Later, he answered no...

The Heart Zither The river water flowed like cold glass. Yatienbu dismounted from his horse onto the ground; the boundless water surface seemed to extend into another world. The banks were covered with pale flowers that seemed one with the river water, akin to a universe of small white blossoms, almost completely covering the pale yellow road surface. Yatienbu gazed across the river. Aside from pale clouds silently circling, aside from startled birds suddenly skimming by, aside from fishing b...

A baleful sickle bars the heart of sky, Frost clouds disperse, the moon draws nigh. He began to chew on that No. 23 blade, washing it down with cloyingly sweet ethylene glycol, and dozens of quetiapine pills. His lips were already full of wounds and fresh blood. He spat, a bloody swamp, Carving Beethoven’s Moonlight upon his body. Then, as if stroking a precious medal, he stroked them gently again and again, the life of blood created by the blade’s point. Or using fingernails to pry open the ...