汤圆的自述
I am a tangyuan. More precisely, a tangyuan whose mission is only half complete. To be boiled is one half. To be eaten is the other. So far, you’re witnessing the first part.
It began with cold. Endless cold. And jolts—bumps large and small, things colliding with things, scattering, then clumping back together again. The cycle repeated. Endlessly. Through these forces shaping me in every direction, I came to a quiet revelation within this rectangular universe: I am a tangyuan.
This conclusion was not made lightly. I have my reasons. First, we are all white. Second, we are all smooth, spherical entities. Third, we are stored frozen. Fourth, we are packaged in bags. Now, you might scoff and say, “That’s ridiculous. These traits apply to dozens of other things too!” Fair. But here’s the clincher: we have filling. I arrived at this through meticulous observation. Unlike “I am me, you are you,” this took some actual depth of thought.
Let’s consider our physical form. Among spherical foods, we’re modest in size—maybe even small. But judging by how many of us they stuff into one bag, it seems we’re designed to be consumed in multiples. Too few feels empty. Too many feels… excessive. People tend to pair us with something else. After all, human beings moved past mere survival long ago. By the Middle Ages, they already craved flavor, ritual, and mood. If we were that tasty on our own, we’d have formed an entire food category by now—like ice cream. But alas, we remain a supplement.
Of course, all this is just reasoned speculation from within this frozen rectangle. But as a tangyuan with full spherical rights, I intend to ferment the aroma of my existence through thought alone—even before reaching the sacred threshold.
Now, back to the point. I’ve been watching one of my corner-mates for a while. There’s a small crack along its side—something that sets it apart. Through it, I catch glimpses of something black inside. If I had to guess: sesame. Then again, it might be a remnant from the Big Bang, billions of years ago.
Around us: frozen meteors. We were once part of each other. High chance: we’ll complete this journey together. Small chance: one of us gets flushed into a drain and reunites in some other form. The moment approaches.
This viscous, pink tunnel tightens and releases in rhythm. Each wave molds my body anew. The temperature rises. The sticky walls contract and release like custom tailoring. I’m compressed into a curve, then bounce back again. The entire tunnel seems built for my passage—yet offers no room to breathe.
Through the gaping black hole ahead, I glimpse the collapse of constructed consciousness—the undoing of all self-definitions. My edges blur. My filling loosens. My smoothness, my roundness, my self—are all dissolving under relentless pressure. Like galaxies losing gravity. Like language losing meaning. What remains is a single, spinning vortex of chaos.
All around me, wet, slippery sounds echo—each one a horn of destiny. They call me forward. They feel familiar, yet foreign—as though they’ve come from a forgotten corner of a pre-birth universe. And I? I am merely the messenger returning.
“ANUS GATE, I’M COMING!”
我是一颗汤圆，确切来说是一颗使命只完成了一半的汤圆。被煮是一半，被吃是另外一半，正如你所见，是前半段。
起初是无垠的寒冷和大大小小的颠簸，物与物之间强有力的碰撞、四散，再汇聚一团。周而复始仿佛没有归期。感受着这些作用在我身上的力，我终于在这四方天地里意识到——我是一颗汤圆。这结论绝不是凭空捏造，原因有以下几点。一、我们都是白色；二、我们都是光滑的球体；三、我们都被冷冻储存；四、我们都是袋装。你肯定要说这简直是在放屁，以上四种原因可指向的结果绝不止汤圆。最后我得补充一点——我们有馅。尽管也是通过细致观察得出的结论，但比起单纯地“你是你我是我”，它需要更深的思考。
首先仅考虑作为球体的我们，在同形状食物中，应算个头适中甚至偏小的食物 。但从“同胞”数量之多，又可以间接看出，我们吃一个少，吃多或许又太齁（齁可能由口味或者数量造成），这时必须搭配一些其余的东西才行。人类对食物的需求，早在数千年前至中世纪文明发展时，就逐渐从温饱变成对口味、仪式感的追求。另一方面，如果我们单独品尝有那么美味的话，早就像冰淇淋自成一派了。
当然，这只是我作为这四方天地一分子作出的合理猜测（甚至有些连接发散的过了头），却不能作为直接的证据引出我的论点。但我是个有圆权的“汤圆”，在这个通往神圣之地的过程，我要通过思考让自己的香味发酵的更醇厚。
切回正题，角落的同胞，我观察了很久。它的身上有条区别于其它球体的裂缝。我隐隐约约透过那裂缝看见了黑色的东西，如果没猜错那是芝麻，也可能是一场发生在几十亿年前大爆炸遗迹。
四周是弥漫的陨石，那曾是我们身体的一部分。大概率我们会一起完成接下来的使命，小概率会被冲进下水道里，再以另外一种形式汇合。快了快了，这条粘稠的粉红长廊，随着此起彼伏的收紧，我感受着身体被塑造。温度渐渐升高，粘稠的墙壁每一次蠕动都像是在为我量体裁衣。我被挤压成一条弧线，又迅速弹回，仿佛整个长廊都在为我的旅程铺路，却不给我片刻喘息的空间。
循着那条深不见底的黑洞，我窥见意识筑建坍塌的过程被无限展开。我的边界正在被侵蚀，而内部的某些东西，开始变得模糊。我的圆滑，我的完整，甚至我的自我，都在那无止尽的压力中被迫瓦解。像星系失去了引力，像语言失去了意义，剩下的只有一个失控的漩涡。
那些湿润的声响回荡在我的四周，每一声都像是命运的号角，召唤着我向前。它们既熟悉又陌生，仿佛来自亿万年前某个被遗忘的宇宙深处，而我不过是回归的使者。
“肛之门，我来了！”