Translation progress is extremely slow.
Because of the lack of grammatical research on Gurren's text, Lin Sheng could only make up word by word, just like a search engine translation.
Especially words like some local slang words gave him even more headaches.
After entering the dream for the second time and transcribing the book, Lin Sheng was able to enter the manor every night after that.
Every time he enters there, he will write down a sentence or two, and then translate it into Celine. That is the language he uses every day now.
This kind of life lasted for four consecutive days.
Gradually, with the help of Lin Sheng's past life research experience, the translation work gradually became smoother.
The Guren text is not a particularly niche language, and there are many related grammar books that can be downloaded on the Internet.
After many investigations, Lin Sheng also downloaded a lot of materials for translation work.
Soon, the first page of the book was gradually translated.
"What really restricts me is memory."
Lin Sheng sat silently in a corner of the sofa, recalling what he translated yesterday.
Today is Sunday, and relatives came to visit us.
It was the second uncle and his son Lin Zhenyu.
Lin Zhenyu is nineteen years old this year, one year older than him, but he looks gentle and wears a pair of square-frame glasses. He sits next to his father without saying a word, just looking down at the foreign language vocabulary book in his hand.
The second Bo Lintao sipped his tea while frowning with his father to discuss the situation of his grandfather.
According to him, grandpa is getting old, and this incident happened again, so those who should make a will have to make a will, how to divide the family property, and the opinions of everyone's brothers and sisters, all have to be coordinated.
There is also a more practical problem: Grandpa's cemetery has to be bought quickly, who should pay for the money, and if it is shared by everyone, how should it be divided.
After all, some people's conditions are so poor that they can't afford much money.
Obviously grandpa is still alive, the second uncle is not worried about his health, but how to divide the family property and inheritance, and who will bear the money.
Father Lin Niannian looked a little ugly, he seldom spoke while sitting, mostly just listening.
Lin Sheng didn't like Erbo's family very much.
Cousin Lin Zhenyu and cousin Lin Xiaoxiao played well, because their family background was much better than his, and the places they haunted were either bars or ktvs.
Occasionally, I heard that a few of them went hiking alone at their own expense, and took this as a tempering for themselves.
The circle and content they play are a level higher than Lin Sheng's.
Lin Sheng usually only plays game halls and Internet cafes with the rest of his brothers and sisters, which are the places where he spends most of his time.
So although the two are of the same age, they have absolutely no common language when they sit together.
Lin Zhenyu's eyes drifted over from time to time, and it also seemed that he didn't exist.
This guy studies well and is also a top student in his class. I heard that last time he took the third-week high school exam, he was ranked tenth in his school.
One must know that Lin Zhenyu's school, Huaisha No. 1 Middle School, is one of the top high schools in the area. It is not at the same level as the ordinary Hui'an Middle School that Lin Sheng attended.
Fortunately, the other party thought he didn't exist, and Lin Sheng was happy to ignore him.
He is now engrossed in the book in his dream.
The previously translated content is still flashing before his eyes.
From a long time ago, I, Ravel, a second-level swordsman of the empire, wanted to leave a biography for myself.
I once went to the battlefield of Shane, and defeated seven elite soldiers of the enemy country in succession on the battlefield. Although I have never mastered extraordinary, I deserve the second-level evaluation.
Now, I'm old, and I'm returning to my hometown. In this desperate time, I want to leave the last trace of my existence
Now in my eyes, I still seem to be able to see the explosion of the post engulfed by fire, the shells flying in the sky, the cold weapons intersecting with each other with reflections, and the armors of my comrades and I occasionally collide.
Someone fell down, someone climbed up, the tower shield in front continued to send deafening impacts, and the chain of gunpowder smoke like a stone pillar rushed to the sky. I'm not afraid of dying, but I don't want to die worthless