AI 伴学成deep seek了...

物理
AI 伴学成deep seek了?!

用户头像
Chuyi Lu 更新于2025-5-15 03:06:08
图在下面👇

jj-zhenjing


Screenshot_2025-02-23-01-10-58-399.jpg

还能帮写英文文章jj-zhenjingx2


Screenshot_2025-02-23-01-23-41-523_1.jpg

【思考】Okay, I need to help the user write a 500-word novel about a girl named Olivia struggling with a disease and waiting to die. Let me start by understanding the key elements here. The main character is Olivia, she's facing a terminal illness, and the story should focus on her emotional and physical struggles. The user wants a concise story, so I need to keep it within the word limit, ensuring each part contributes to the overall narrative.First, I should establish Olivia's situation. Maybe start with her daily routine to show the monotony and her battle. Describing her environment could help set the tone—perhaps a room with medical equipment to emphasize her condition. Including sensory details like the beep of machines or the smell of antiseptics can make it more vivid.Next, her emotional state. She's waiting to die, so there's likely a mix of resignation, fear, and maybe moments of hope. Flashbacks could show her past life, contrasting with her present. Including a keepsake, like a locket from her mother, might symbolize her connection to life and past happiness.Conflict is important. Maybe internal conflict between giving up and holding on. Introducing a catalyst for change, like a new doctor or a friend, could add depth. But since the user didn't mention other characters, maybe focus on her internal journey. Perhaps she finds a reason to cherish her remaining time, leading to a bittersweet ending.Structure-wise, start with the present, sprinkle in memories, and build towards a moment of acceptance. The ending should be poignant, maybe her finding peace in small things despite her fate. Avoid being overly sentimental but still evoke empathy.Need to check the word count as I go. Each paragraph should be concise. Maybe 5-6 paragraphs: introduction, her routine, a memory, a turning point, and conclusion. Ensure the language is descriptive but not overly complex to maintain flow.Potential challenges: avoiding clichés, keeping it original. Focus on specific details unique to Olivia. Maybe her hobby, like reading or writing, to show her personality. The locket idea works—personalizes her struggle.Also, the title should reflect the theme. "The Weight of Light" suggests contrasting elements, which could symbolize her struggle between darkness of disease and moments of light/hope.Let me outline the sections:1. Opening scene: Olivia in her room, medical details, sense of time dragging.2. Description of her physical decline and emotional numbness.3. Flashback to her mother giving the locket, contrast with present.4. Turning point: She decides to write letters, finding purpose.5. Conclusion: Acceptance, focusing on small joys, peaceful ending.Now, flesh out each section, keeping paragraphs tight. Use show-don't-tell: instead of saying she's sad, describe her actions and surroundings. Metaphors like seasons changing outside her window can symbolize her journey.Check for consistent tone—melancholic yet with glimmers of hope. Avoid melodrama. Ensure Olivia's voice is authentic, maybe through her thoughts or actions.Finally, proofread for grammar and flow, trim unnecessary words to hit 500 words. Make sure the ending leaves an impact, showing her finding peace without being trite.


【回答】**Title: "The Weight of Light"**  Olivia traced the cracks in her ceiling, counting them for the forty-seventh time. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the air, and the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor marked seconds she could no longer afford to waste. Her room was a museum of fading life: wilting sunflowers from last month’s visit, unopened medical bills, and a window that framed a world she’d forgotten how to touch.  Three years ago, the doctors had named the ache in her bones—*Ewing’s sarcoma*—a phrase that now felt as mundane as the IV drip feeding her veins. Treatments had carved her into a ghost: hair thin as cobwebs, skin translucent, laughter rationed. She’d stopped checking the calendar. Time wasn’t a line anymore; it was a stagnant pool, each day dissolving into the next.  Her fingers brushed the silver locket at her throat, cold against her feverish skin. Inside, a photo of her mother smiled, frozen in a summer before hospitals and hushed voices. *“You’re stronger than you think,”* her mother had whispered, pressing the locket into her palm the night the first scan lit up like a supernova. But strength, Olivia had learned, was just another word for enduring pain quietly.  One afternoon, a shaft of sunlight pierced the blinds, pooling on her bedside journal—a relic from her college days, its pages blank. For months, it had taunted her, a symbol of stories she’d never finish. But that day, she dragged herself upright, wincing as her ribs protested, and began to write. Not about illness, but about the apricot tree home, its branches heavy with fruit. About the way rain smelled in September. About the boy who’d kissed her at 16, clumsy and sweet, behind the bleachers.  The words spilled like a confession. She wrote letters she’d never send: to her father, who’d vanished when her diagnosis came. To her best friend, whose visits had dwindled to awkward silences. To the version of herself who once danced barefoot in thunderstorms.  Weeks blurred. The journal swelled with fragments of a life half-lived, and Olivia found herself hungry—not for miracles, but for mornings. She memorized the way dawn painted her walls peach and gold. She savored the tartness of cranberry juice, the weight of a library book in her lap. The locket stayed clasped, but now when she touched it, she thought of apricot trees.  On a quiet Tuesday, her doctor entered with results from the scan. Olivia didn’t need his tightened jaw or the pause that lingered too long. She closed her eyes, not to shut out the news, but to feel the sunlight on her face—warm, alive, fleeting.  She’d stopped counting cracks.  Instead, she wrote until her hands trembbled, until the monitor’s beep softened into a distant hum. When the end came, it was not with a gasp, but a sigh. The journal lay open, its final page a single line: *“I didn’t wait to die. I waited to live.”*  Outside, the apricot tree bloomed.  ---  **(Word count: 499)**

厉害!   (刚发现还能教日语。。。)

摸鱼时刻
摸鱼时刻
收起
3
1
共1条回复
时间正序
牛逼,我咋没发现呢(我拿它来写小说剧本)还有 $\huge{沙发}$