第一次读《三体》，像被人轻轻拍了一下肩，结果回头却看到一个黑暗深渊在对你微笑。刘慈欣把“宇宙”这个本来抽象的概念，突然变成了一个冰冷、真实、甚至有点残忍的地方——
一个不会因为你善良就放你一马的地方。
书里最震撼的不是三体文明的强大，而是人类在巨大压力下露出的各种侧面：有崩溃、有背叛、有倔强、也有那种“反正要完了还要抢救一下世界”的倔强幽默。读到“弱小和无知不是生存的障碍，
傲慢才是”这一句时，我甚至有点希望所有科技公司都把它贴在门口当晨训。
《三体》让人意识到：宇宙可能对我们毫无兴趣，但这并不妨碍我们继续仰望星空。因为我们热爱的不是答案，而是继续寻找的那点微弱而倔强的光。
The first time I read The Three-Body Problem, it felt like someone tapped me on the shoulder—only for me to turn around and find a vast cosmic
abyss smiling back. Liu Cixin takes the abstract idea of “the universe” and suddenly makes it cold, tangible, and a little cruel—a place that
doesn’t spare you just because you’re kind.
What struck me most wasn’t the power of the Trisolaran civilization, but the way humanity reveals different facets when pressure reaches cosmic scale:
collapse, betrayal, stubbornness, and that peculiar “the world is ending but let’s try one more fix” kind of humor. When I reached the line
“Weakness and ignorance are not barriers to survival, arrogance is,” I secretly wished every tech company would hang it on their front door as their
daily motto.
The Three-Body Problem reminds us that the universe may not care about us at all, but that doesn’t stop us from looking up at the stars. Because what we
love isn’t the answer itself—it’s that faint, stubborn light we chase while searching for it.
— From a conversation between Mary & ChatGPT