我的征尘是星辰大海。。。
The dirt and dust from my pilgrimage forms oceans of stars...
-------当记忆的篇章变得零碎，当追忆的图片变得模糊，我们只能求助于数字存储的永恒的回忆
作者:黄教授
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笔替2
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原始脚本
第二章，录像里的温度。 杜淼把追心者送来的 U 盘插进电脑时，已经是深夜。 律所里只开了一盏台灯，光线落在桌上的文件上，把深脑科技用户协议里的知识产权归公司所有几个字照得格外刺眼。 他点开第一个视频文件，画面有些晃，应该是林燕用手机自己拍的。 镜头里的林燕还很精神，坐在书桌前，面前摊着一本小说手稿，手里拿着笔，对着电脑屏幕里的 AI 对话框说，今天教你写回忆杀，就写我和阿追第一次约会，在公园的长椅上，他吃冰淇淋沾到了嘴角，我没敢帮他擦，只敢假装看天。 你要写出那种想碰又不敢碰的紧张，懂吗？屏幕右下角弹出 AI 的回复，已记录约会场景加紧张感，但无法精准模 模拟想碰不敢碰的情绪。 林燕笑了笑，没生气，反而拿起笔在纸上画了个小小的长椅，旁边写着阿追的冰淇淋是草莓味，阳光落在她头发上，像撒了金。 你看，要加这些细节。 草莓味的冰淇淋、金色的头发。 读者看到这些就知道我当时有多紧张了。 杜淼的手指顿在鼠标上，他想起追心者说的林燕教 AI 感受，原来不是空话。 这些对话里的耐心像春雨一样，一点点浇在生硬的 AI 程序上。 就在这时，手机突然响了，是深脑科技法务部的来电。 对方的声音带着公式化的冷漠。 杜律师，关于你客户追星者的诉求，我方正式回复。 深脑大模型的能力提升源于千万用户的集体训练，林燕的训练内容仅占0.37%，无法单独归因。 若贵方坚持诉讼，我方将提交数据证明，驳回所有诉求。 电话挂断的忙音里，杜淼又点开了一个视频。 这次是在医院的病房里，林燕躺在病床上，脸色苍白，手臂上插着输液管，却还是对着电脑屏幕说，今天教你写愧疚。 我化疗的时候，阿追每天熬汤送来，我却跟他发脾气，说汤太咸，其实我是怕 怕我走了，他一个人怎么办？你写的时候要把怕藏在发脾气后面，别直接说出来。 AI 的回复慢了些，以尝试理解隐藏的怕，是否需要补充汤的温度细节。 林燕笑了，眼睛里有了点光。 对，要写汤还冒着热气，他的 的手却冻得发红，这样大家就知道他为了送汤在冬天里跑了很远的路。 杜淼突然从椅子上站起来，他翻出追星者给的 AI 后期创作样本，找到写医院愧疚的段落，里面果然写着汤碗边凝着水珠，他的指尖泛着红，我盯着那碗汤，突然不敢看他的眼睛，文字里的细节和视频里林燕的叮嘱一模一样。 连指尖泛红都分毫不差。 他正想把这段对应关系标出来，办公室的门被轻轻推开。 追心者站在门口，手里拎着一个保温桶，面纱上还沾着雨珠。 我路过，看你灯还亮着，就煮了点粥。 林燕以前熬夜写东西，我也总给她送粥。 杜淼接过保温桶，指尖碰到她的手，还是凉的。 追心者瞥见屏幕里的视频脚步顿住，声音突然哽咽。 这是他第三次化疗后拍的。 那天他跟我说阿追，等 AI 学会写愧疚，我就把所有 所有对不起你的事都写进自传里。 杜淼把 AI 样本和视频记录推到他面前。 你看，AI 写的细节全是林先生教的，这就是证据。 他不是自己悟出来的，是林先生把自己的感受一点一点装进了他的程序里。 追心者的手指拂过纸面上的文字，眼泪滴在指尖泛红那几个字上，晕开一小片湿痕。 他总说 AI 是他的另一只手，等他写不动了，就让这只手替他写。 现在他走了，这只手不能忘了是谁教他握笔的。 杜淼看着他的样子，突然想起自己开律所的初衷，不是为了赚多少钱，而是想帮人守住那些不能被规则埋没的东西。 他拿起笔，在证据清单顶端写下，林燕的训练是 AI 感受力的唯一来源，录像为证，文字为凭。 窗外的雨还在下，但杜淼看着屏幕 李林燕的笑脸，突然觉得心里的那团雾好像散了一点。 他知道这个案子难，但只要能帮追心者完成林燕的遗愿，就算事务所最后还是倒闭，他也认了。
修正脚本
第二章，录像里的温度。 杜淼把追心者送来的 U 盘插进电脑时，已经是深夜。 律所里只开了一盏台灯，光线落在桌上的文件上，把深脑科技用户协议里的知识产权归公司所有几个字照得格外刺眼。 他点开第一个视频文件，画面有些晃，应该是林燕用手机自己拍的。 镜头里的林燕还很精神，坐在书桌前，面前摊着一本小说手稿，手里拿着笔，对着电脑屏幕里的 AI 对话框说，今天教你写回忆杀，就写我和阿追第一次约会，在公园的长椅上，他吃冰淇淋沾到了嘴角，我没敢帮他擦，只敢假装看天。 你要写出那种想碰又不敢碰的紧张，懂吗？屏幕右下角弹出 AI 的回复，已记录约会场景加紧张感，但无法精准模拟想碰不敢碰的情绪。 林燕笑了笑，没生气，反而拿起笔在纸上画了个小小的长椅，旁边写着阿追的冰淇淋是草莓味，阳光落在她头发上，像撒了金。 你看，要加这些细节。 草莓味的冰淇淋、金色的头发。 读者看到这些就知道我当时有多紧张了。 杜淼的手指顿在鼠标上，他想起追心者说的林燕教 AI 感受，原来不是空话。 这些对话里的耐心像春雨一样，一点点浇在生硬的 AI 程序上。 就在这时，手机突然响了，是深脑科技法务部的来电。 对方的声音带着公式化的冷漠。 杜律师，关于你客户追心者的诉求，我方正式回复。 深脑大模型的能力提升源于千万用户的集体训练，林燕的训练内容仅占0.37%，无法单独归因。 若贵方坚持诉讼，我方将提交数据证明，驳回所有诉求。 电话挂断的忙音里，杜淼又点开了一个视频。 这次是在医院的病房里，林燕躺在病床上，脸色苍白，手臂上插着输液管，却还是对着电脑屏幕说，今天教你写愧疚。 我化疗的时候，阿追每天熬汤送来，我却跟他发脾气，说汤太咸，其实我是怕我走了，他一个人怎么办？你写的时候要把怕藏在发脾气后面，别直接说出来。 AI 的回复慢了些，已尝试理解隐藏的怕，是否需要补充汤的温度细节。 林燕笑了，眼睛里有了点光。 对，要写汤还冒着热气，他的手却冻得发红，这样大家就知道他为了送汤在冬天里跑了很远的路。 杜淼突然从椅子上站起来，他翻出追心者给的 AI 后期创作样本，找到写医院愧疚的段落，里面果然写着汤碗边凝着水珠，他的指尖泛着红，我盯着那碗汤，突然不敢看他的眼睛，文字里的细节和视频里林燕的叮嘱一模一样。 连指尖泛红都分毫不差。 他正想把这段对应关系标出来，办公室的门被轻轻推开。 追心者站在门口，手里拎着一个保温桶，发梢上还沾着雨珠。 我路过，看你灯还亮着，就煮了点粥。 林燕以前熬夜写东西，我也总给她送粥。 杜淼接过保温桶，指尖碰到她的手，还是凉的。 追心者瞥见屏幕里的视频脚步顿住，声音突然哽咽。 这是他第三次化疗后拍的。 那天他跟我说阿追，等 AI 学会写愧疚，我就把所有对不起你的事都写进自传里。 杜淼把 AI 样本和视频记录推到他面前。 你看，AI 写的细节全是林先生教的，这就是证据。 他不是自己悟出来的，是林先生把自己的感受一点一点装进了他的程序里。 追心者的手指拂过纸面上的文字，眼泪滴在指尖泛红那几个字上，晕开一小片湿痕。 他总说 AI 是他的另一只手，等他写不动了，就让这只手替他写。 现在他走了，这只手不能忘了是谁教他握笔的。 杜淼看着他的样子，突然想起自己开律所的初衷，不是为了赚多少钱，而是想帮人守住那些不能被规则埋没的东西。 他拿起笔，在证据清单顶端写下，林燕的训练是 AI 感受力的唯一来源，录像为证，文字为凭。 窗外的雨还在下，但杜淼看着屏幕里林燕的笑脸，突然觉得心里的那团雾好像散了一点。 他知道这个案子难，但只要能帮追心者完成林燕的遗愿，就算事务所最后还是倒闭，他也认了。
英文翻译
Chapter Two: The Temperature in the Video It was already late at night when Du Miao inserted the USB drive sent by Zhui Xin Zhe into his computer. Only one desk lamp was lit in the law firm. The light fell on the documents on the table, making the phrase "intellectual property belongs to the company" in the DeepBrain Technology user agreement stand out sharply. He clicked on the first video file. The画面 was a bit shaky, probably taken by Lin Yan herself with her phone. In the shot, Lin Yan still looked energetic, sitting at her desk with a novel manuscript spread out in front of her, a pen in her hand. She spoke to the AI dialog box on the computer screen: "Today, I'll teach you how to write a flashback. Write about my first date with Azhui. On a park bench, he got ice cream on the corner of his mouth. I didn't dare wipe it for him, only pretended to look at the sky." "You have to capture that tension of wanting to touch but not daring to. Got it?" A reply from the AI popped up in the bottom right corner of the screen: "Recorded: date scene plus tension. But unable to accurately simulate the emotion of wanting to touch but not daring to." Lin Yan smiled, not angry. Instead, she picked up her pen and drew a small bench on the paper, writing beside it: "Azhui's ice cream was strawberry flavor. The sunlight fell on her hair, like sprinkling gold." "You see, you have to add these details." "Strawberry-flavored ice cream, golden hair." "When readers see this, they'll know how nervous I was back then." Du Miao's fingers paused on the mouse. He remembered what Zhui Xin Zhe had said—that Lin Yan taught the AI to feel. So it wasn't just empty words. The patience in these dialogues was like spring rain, drop by drop, soaking into the rigid AI program. Just then, his phone suddenly rang. It was a call from the legal department of DeepBrain Technology. The voice on the other end carried the formulaic coldness. "Attorney Du, regarding your client Zhui Xin Zhe's demands, our side gives this official response: The improvement of DeepBrain's large model capabilities comes from the collective training of millions of users. Lin Yan's training content accounts for only 0.37%, which cannot be attributed independently. If your side insists on litigation, we will submit data evidence to dismiss all claims." In the busy tone after the call ended, Du Miao clicked on another video. This time, it was in a hospital ward. Lin Yan lay on the bed, pale, with an IV drip in her arm, yet she still spoke to the computer screen: "Today, I'll teach you how to write guilt." "During my chemotherapy, Azhui made soup and brought it to me every day. But I snapped at him, said the soup was too salty. Actually, I was afraid—if I were gone, what would he do alone? When you write it, you have to hide the fear behind the anger. Don't say it directly." The AI's reply came a bit slower: "Attempted to understand the hidden fear. Do you need to add the temperature details of the soup?" Lin Yan smiled, a glimmer of light in her eyes. "Yes. You have to write that the soup was still steaming, but his hands were red from the cold. That way, everyone will know he traveled a long way in winter just to bring the soup." Du Miao suddenly stood up from his chair. He pulled out the AI's later creative samples given by Zhui Xin Zhe, found the paragraph about hospital guilt, and sure enough, it read: "Water droplets condensed on the edge of the soup bowl, the tips of his fingers were red from the cold. I stared at that bowl of soup, suddenly afraid to meet his eyes." The details in the text matched Lin Yan's instructions in the video exactly. Even "the tips of his fingers were red" was precisely the same. He was about to mark this corresponding relationship when the office door gently pushed open. Zhui Xin Zhe stood at the door, holding a thermos bucket, raindrops still clinging to the ends of his hair. "I was passing by and saw your light was still on, so I cooked some porridge." "When Lin Yan used to stay up late writing, I always brought her porridge." Du Miao took the thermos bucket, and his fingertips touched her hand—it was still cold. Zhui Xin Zhe caught sight of the video on the screen and froze. Her voice suddenly choked. "This was filmed after his third chemotherapy session." "That day, he said to me: 'Azhui, once the AI learns to write guilt, I'll write everything I've done wrong to you into my autobiography.'" Du Miao pushed the AI samples and video records in front of her. "Look, the details written by the AI were all taught by Mr. Lin. This is the evidence." "He didn't figure it out on his own. Mr. Lin put his own feelings into the program, bit by bit." Zhui Xin Zhe's fingers brushed over the text on the paper. Tears fell on the words "tips of his fingers were red," leaving a small wet patch. "He always said AI was his other hand. When he couldn't write anymore, he'd let this hand write for him." "Now he's gone. This hand can't forget who taught it to hold the pen." Du Miao looked at her and suddenly remembered why he had started his own law firm. It wasn't to make a lot of money, but to help people hold on to things that shouldn't be buried by rules. He picked up his pen and wrote at the top of the evidence list: "Lin Yan's training is the sole source of the AI's emotional perception. The video is proof; the text is evidence." Outside, the rain was still falling. But as Du Miao stared at Lin Yan's smiling face on the screen, he felt that the fog in his heart seemed to lift a little. He knew this case would be difficult, but as long as he could help Zhui Xin Zhe fulfill Lin Yan's last wish, even if the firm ended up closing down, he would accept it.
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