104: Chapter 24 Customs, Language, and Culture 104: Chapter 24 Customs, Language, and Culture “I can say that our ancestors have never died.

Their soul sparks are thinking within our brains, through daily language habits.

Language and culture constantly connect us with our ancestors.

This connection is always stronger than blood.”

Ingrid said this on a day in February 2029.

Xiang Shan had just ended his vacation and returned from Beiping.

He was holding a tablet, scrolling through the news.

Because the confidentiality level of the “Rama Special Project” had gradually been reduced, some electronic devices could now be brought into the park.

Xiang Shan didn’t particularly subscribe to any news, but the current chat software came with news pop-ups.

He occasionally glanced at them.

In the corner of the office area, Ingrid and Kanhara Tsun were chatting with Yawgmoth.

Yawgmoth had come to seek advice on learning the Chinese language.

“Hey, friend from the Republic?” Ingrid tossed a small paper ball over, “This gentleman here wants to learn your mother tongue, don’t you want to say a few words?”

Xiang Shan shifted his focus from a news article titled “Republic Makes forays to Promote the Establishment of the Pacific Agricultural Community,” raising his hands, “Sorry, I am an engineering student.

Inga [Ingrid’s nickname], your proficiency in this language far exceeds mine.

I am very unprofessional in this field.”

Due to an ongoing joint project, a group of linguists, including Ingrid, simply opened an office area in the engineering research center to study “something” together.

Yawgmoth, meanwhile, was using his spare time to study Chinese on his own.

Although the misunderstanding had been cleared up long ago, according to Yawgmoth himself, learning the language was not because of the joke Xiang Shan made last year.

He indeed had this idea.

It should be said, he had thought about it several years ago.

It was just that he had been too busy at work at the time.

And now, he had a group of colleagues who were native speakers of the language, and one of the world’s best linguists—what other reason could he have for not seizing this opportunity?

Since he, along with Kanhara Tsun and Xiang Shan, had become one of the first scholars to come into contact with Argon a year ago, he had gained a bit of a reputation among the scholarly community.

This seems to have opened up Yawgmoth’s social circles.

Of course, the same was true for Xiang Shan.

And Ingrid was always generous.

But Yawgmoth was still frustrated, “I feel that my learning efficiency is really too low.

Although I’ve memorized many articles, I still can’t seem to use the language fluently.”

Ingrid shrugged her shoulders, “It really is a difficult problem, Yawgmoth.

You know, there are many second-language learners who can’t use the second language as proficiently as their mother tongue for their entire lives, while some learners can easily achieve this level.”

“It’s just a pity that there isn’t a convincing statistical study yet that can point out the proportion of these two types of people in the population.”

At this, Ingrid expressed some regret, “It’s really very unfortunate.

To tell the truth, funding for this field is really scarce.”

Kanhara Tsun seemed to be touched by a sad memory, “Field research travel expenses are never enough…”

Linguistics is really the so-called “noble profession.” High input, low output, you can’t waste it unless you have some backing from family.”

Yawgmoth’s thoughts did not follow the linguists but instead pondered, “Could this difference be caused by some kind of genetic expression?

Is there evidence to show that this ‘second language acquisition ability’ is hereditary?”

Ingrid shrugged, “It’s a question worth studying, but we also need to get the funding.”

Xiang Shan closed the news window and looked up again, “But not everyone needs a second language now, do they…”

“No, our ultimate goal in studying the process of second-language acquisition is to deduce how ‘first language,’ ‘mother tongue,’ is acquired by us.

It ultimately resolves the mechanism issue of ‘language acquisition’ itself.”

“From a purely linguistic standpoint, it pursues ‘Universal Grammar.’ From a neurological perspective, it explores the brain’s mechanisms for inputting, storing, and processing information.

And from a cultural viewpoint, it involves the interaction between people and social culture.”

Ingrid sipped her tea.

Kanhara Tsun then said, “But I still have my own opinion on this matter.

I’ve investigated many ancient languages in Africa, the region of human origin.

I cannot feel the ‘Universal Grammar’ you speak of in the process of learning these languages.

Their languages always have aspects you can’t imagine.”

“Personal opinion,” Ingrid raised her eyebrows, “Do you have any recommended papers, Mr.

Takeru?”

Yawgmoth contemplated, “I had thought that the concept of ‘Universal Grammar’ should be quite obvious.”

Kanhara Tsun looked slightly perplexed, “Do you have any thoughts on the matter?”

“Well…

take for instance, in all the languages of the world, doesn’t the word for ‘mother’ contain the sound ‘ma’?”

Kanhara Tsun paused, then turned away, his shoulders shaking slightly.

He must be laughing.

Ingrid also frowned, shaking her head, “Yawgmoth, that is not what ‘Universal Grammar’ is.

And besides, that’s a misconception.”

“Is it?” Yawgmoth was quite surprised.

“The sounds that babies can easily make are few.

They’re mainly ‘ma,’ ‘ba,’ ‘pa,’ ‘mu,’ ‘i,’ ‘o.’ The sounds babies use to call their parents are naturally combinations of these.

The characteristic of baby talk is nasal consonants m, n, or stops p, b, t, d followed by the vowel a,” said Ingrid.

“In Georgia, the word ‘mama’ refers to a father.

And in the north of the Republic, there are minority groups that use a word pronounced ‘ama’ to refer to a father.

There are also many peoples who use words pronounced ‘ba’ ‘da’ to refer to a mother.”

Kanhara Tsun nodded, affirming that it was indeed the case: “To think that all languages in the world use ‘ma’ to refer to a mother is indeed a narrow-minded prejudice—what Ingrid is saying about ‘Universal Grammar’ is more about the mechanism of ‘why humans form these sounds into words for father and mother,’ right?

Of course, that’s not accurate either.

It’s a rather complex issue.”

Xiang Shan was a bit curious, “Back home we also have terms like ‘niang,’ right?

That was used up until a few decades ago.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes, “The ‘iang’ rhyming with a nasal sound is not something infants can pronounce.

Your ancestors also called their mothers ‘ma.’ In ancient Chinese, the word ‘niang’ wasn’t even used to mean ‘mother.’ It referred broadly to ‘women’—both young and old.

It wasn’t until the Song Dynasty that ‘little miss’ was a normal way to address a young girl.”

“It was only during the Yuan Dynasty that the term ‘gu niang’ emerged, taking over the original meaning of ‘niang’ for ‘young woman’.

Consequently, the word became an honorific for older or married women of an older generation.”

Xiang Shan scratched his head, “Then the ‘gu’ in ‘gu niang’…”

“It likely comes from the Mongolian word pronounced close to ‘hu hen.’ The traces of this word are still preserved in Russian and some Eastern European languages,” explained Ingrid.

“If you’ve read works like ‘Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio,’ you should know that when ‘niang’ is used in names, it still retains the meaning ‘young girl.’ And in Japan, which remained outside the Mongolian rule, this double meaning is even more intact.”

Yawgmoth considered, “Isn’t this inference a bit far-fetched?

Are there other explanations?”

“Oh, well then… let’s do an experiment,” said Ingrid as she bent over, rummaged underneath the office desk, and found a green folder, which she tore open and then folded into a hat.

She handed the hat to Yawgmoth, “Put this on and observe the reactions of your two friends.”

Yawgmoth, puzzled, placed the hat on his head and then looked up.

Xiang Shan was lying on the desk, face contorted, shoulders shaking.

Meanwhile, Kanhara Tsun was clueless.

Yawgmoth looked from one to the other.

After a few seconds, Kanhara Tsun’s face showed a sudden realization.

“Just now, what went through your mind was ‘these two have that kind of relationship,’ ‘Inga is this high-spirited behind our backs,’ or ‘this joke isn’t quite appropriate but still funny,'” Ingrid said with a playful expression.

“By the way, let me emphasize, this is just an experimental project.”

Yawgmoth took off the hat on his head, “What principle is this based on?”

“In the Yuan Empire in East Asia, male relatives of women working in the entertainment industry had to wear a green scarf.

But the ocean-segregated empire did not include Japan in its territory,” Ingrid explained.

“You see, Xiang immediately understood, whereas Kanhara, despite knowing some Chinese, probably had to think for a bit before he realized what I was doing—though by this time, he most likely also understood what I meant by ‘experiment.’

“That brutal empire—Mongolia, the iron hoofs it set out in the 12th and 13th centuries still echo in the languages today.

These are the scars it left on the world.

And these scars are still alive.”

“Sometimes, what you’re thinking is not really your own thoughts but the set of cultural symbols, narrative patterns, and discourse systems you’ve been taught.

These concepts transmitted by ‘language’ stir within your neurons.

They are the ones thinking.”

“I can say that our ancestors have never truly died.

Their Soul Sparks, through everyday language habits, think within our brains.

Language and culture always connect us to our ancestors.

This connection is always stronger than blood.”

Xiang Shan grinned, “That sounds like something the Undead would say.”

The notion was too idealistic for his taste.

“Who says it’s not?” Ingrid shrugged her shoulders.

“In the Divine Realm of Soth, we’ve encountered those long-forgotten ancestors countless times.

They could be gods and heroes, or they could be the Undead.”