i kinda wanna learn Russian or Spanish mhmmmmm
and btw this is smth i wrote 2 years ago: (中文版在另一个问题下面，这个字数不够了)
It was a green forest. In the fiery-red sunlight I saw leaves dancing the clumsiest dance, falling one by one, then rising one by one. Endless.
On the other side was fire—a wildfire sweeping hills and fields. I had no way out. Left, dusk; right, the rising sun. So I was forever caught between two lights.
I heard the bullet whistling toward me. It passed through my skin, then burrowed into my ribs. The pain bored into my heart, yet I kept walking. I saw the blue sky, radiant, like your eyes.
With a hiss, the bullet broke through the hard rib and entered my lung. That soft organ endured such agony—without reproach, without frenzy. I only walked on, step by step.
Fiery-red leaves drifted from the right, burning. Red and green mingled, became one brown mass, and fell in a sharp arc. Shredded light fell into my eyes, stinging every nerve.
Now the bullet—why it had such power I do not know—passed through me and flew straight toward some farther place. My blood spilled across the ground; then it flew cleanly away, as if it had never passed through me.
It was translucent yellow-brown, glittering like a star. Had it not carried my blood, had the woods not been burning, I would have picked it up, wiped off the dust, put it in the finest box, and watched it shine in the sun.
But it carried my blood; it carried the forest’s wailing, and with all that pain it burst into the snow.
I am still walking. The trickling blood outlines my steps. I am fortunate to have this faithful follower until life is spent. It carried off no gunsmoke, bore no wailing, as if the destruction had been only a physical passing-through. It left all the pain and brokenness to me.
I walked on along the cleaving line of light, because beyond the mountain I saw the blue sky, a very blue sky—as it was before the yellow-brown bullet ever came to this land.
