Take a look at the following list of numbers: 4, 8, 5, 3, 7, 9, 6. Read them loud. Now look away and spend 20 seconds memorizing them in order before saying them out loud again. If you speak English, you have about a 50% chance of remembering those perfectly. If you are Chinese, though, you're almost certain to get it right every time. Why is that? Because we most easily memorize whatever we can say or read within a two-second period. And unlike English, the Chinese language allows them to fit all those seven numbers into two seconds.

    That example comes from Stanislas Dahaene's book The Number Sense. As Dahaene explains: Chinese number words are remarkably brief. Most of them can be spoken out in less than one-quarter of a second (for instance, 4 is “si” and 7 “qi”). Their English pronunciations are longer. The memory gap between English and Chinese apparently is entirely due to this difference in length.

    It turns out that there is also a big difference in how number-naming systems in Western and Asian languages are constructed. In English, we say fourteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen and nineteen, so one might expect that we would also say oneteen, twoteen, threeteen, and fiveteen.  But we don't. We use a different form: eleven, twelve, thirteen and fifteen. For numbers above 20, we put the “decade” first and the unit number second (twenty-one, twenty-two), while for the teens, we do it the other way around (fourteen, seventeen, eighteen). The number system in English is highly irregular. Not so in China, Japan, and Korea. They have a logical counting system. Eleven is ten-one. Twelve is ten-two. Twenty-four is two-tens-four and so on.

    That difference means that Asian children learn to count much faster than American children. Four-year-old Chinese children can count, on average, to 40. American children at that age can count only to 15. By the age of five, in other words, American children are already a year behind their Asian friends in the most fundamental of math skills.

    The regularity of their number system also means that Asian children can perform basic functions, such as addition, far more easily. Ask an English-speaking seven-year-old to add thirty-seven plus twenty-two in her head, and she has to change the words to numbers (37+22). Only then can she do the math: 2 plus 7 is 9 and 30 and 20 is 50, which makes 59. Ask an Asian child to add three-tens-seven and two-tens-two, and then the necessary equation(等式) is right there, in the sentence. No number translation is necessary: it's five-tens-nine.

When it comes to math, in other words, Asians have a built-in advantage. For years, students from China, South Korea, and Japan — outperformed their Western classmates at mathematics, and the typical assumption is that it has something to do with a kind of Asian talent for math. The differences between the number systems in the East and the West suggest something very different — that being good at math may also be rooted in a group's culture.

    I love charity(慈善) shops and so do lots of other people in Britain because you find quite a few of them on every high street. The charity shop is a British institution, selling everything from clothes to electric goods, all at very good prices. You can get things you won't find in the shops anymore. The thing I like best about them is that your money is going to a good cause and not into the pockets of profit-driven companies, and you are not damaging the planet, but finding a new home for unwanted goods.

    The first charity shop was opened in 1947 by Oxfam. The famous charity's appeal to aid postwar Greece had been so successful it had been flooded with donations(捐赠物). They decided to set up a shop to sell some of these donations to raise money for that appeal. Now there are over 7,000 charity shops in the UK. My favourite charity shop in my hometown is the Red Cross shop, where I always find children's books, all 10 or 20 pence each.

    Most of the people working in the charity shops are volunteers, although there is often a manager who gets paid. Over 90% of the goods in the charity shops are donated by the public. Every morning you see bags of unwanted items outside the front of shops, although they don't encourage this, rather ask people to bring things in when the shop is open.

    The shops have very low running costs: all profits go to charity work. Charity shops raise more than ￡110 million a year, funding(资助) medical research, overseas aid, supporting sick and poor children, homeless and disabled people, and much more. What better place to spend your money? You get something special for a very good price and a good moral sense. You provide funds to a good cause and tread lightly on the environment.

    Chimps will cooperate in certain ways, like gathering in war parties to protect their territory. But beyond the minimum requirements as social beings, they have little instinct to help one another. Chimps in the wild seek food for themselves. Even chimp mothers regularly decline to share food with their children, who are able from a young age to gather their own food.

In the laboratory, chimps don't naturally share food either. If a chimp is put in a cage where he can pull in one plate of food for himself or, with no great effort, a plate that also provides food for a neighbor to the next cage, he will pull at random —he just doesn't care whether his neighbor gets fed or not. Chimps are truly selfish.

    Human children, on the other hand are extremely cooperative. From the earliest ages, they decide to help others, to share information and to participate in achieving common goals. The psychologist Michael Tomasello has studied this cooperativeness in a series of experiments with very young children. He finds that if babies aged 18 months see an unrelated adult with hands full trying to open a door, almost all will immediately try to help.

    There are several reasons to believe that the urges to help, inform and share are not taught .but naturally possessed in young children. One is that these instincts appear at a very young age before most parents have started to train children to behave socially. Another is that the helping behaviors are not improved if the children are rewarded. A third reason is that social intelligence develops in children before their general cognitive (认知的) skills, at least when compared with chimps. In tests conducted by Tomasello, the children did no better than the chimps on the physical world tests, but were considerably better at understanding the social world.

    The core of what children's minds have and chimps' don't is what Tomasello calls shared intentionality. Part of this ability is that they can infer what others know or are thinking. But beyond that, even very young children want to be part of a shared purpose. They actively seek to be part of a “we”, a group that intends to work toward a shared goal.

    The words “protect animals” appear everywhere in books and on screens because some animals are in danger of dying out. But sometimes the reality can be a little different from what people read or watch.

    Florida, US, has held its first bear hunt since 1994. The local government gave people nearly 4,000 permits to kill black bears. And more than 200 were killed on Oct 24.

    Animal protection groups protested this decision. But local officials explained that the black bear population had grown to 3,500 and become a menace to local people. In the past two years, bears have hurt at least four people in Florida.

    This brings an old question back into the spotlight – which is more important, protecting animals or protecting people's interests?

    This question is asked in other countries too. In Switzerland, a wolf was sentenced to death by the Swiss government months ago. This is because the wolf killed 38 sheep and local people lost a lot of money. Days ago in China, three old men were arrested for killing a serow(鬣羚), a protected species. But they insisted they didn't know about this and killed the animal because it ruined their crops.

    However, these stories don't always mean that animal protection stops due to human interests, especially involving economic development. A man named Zhou Weisen set up a wild animal base in Guilin, Guangxi. He saved over 170 tigers and 300 bears. But his base also offered jobs to local people.

    “There may never be a standard answer to the question of whether we should give more attention to the environment or human development,” said Robert May, a British biologist at Oxford University. “But we shouldn't push either one to the side, as the future is hanging in the balance.

    A few weeks ago, a 71-year-old man pulled his car to the roadside in Northwest Portland and stopped. He rolled down the window, turned off the engine and stared at a house.

    The place, distinguished by three gables, is partially hidden by hedges and trees. Most people who pass by would never notice it. And if they did give it a glance, they'd probably think it's a nice house in a nice neighborhood. Nothing more.

    The house, in the 2500 block of Northwest Westover Road, is known as the Bessie & Louis Tarpley House. Built in 1907, it's listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

    The current owner is Barbee Lyon, 79.

    He and his first wife took possession in 1975. When they divorced, he bought out her share.

    A retired lawyer, Lyon learned Louis Tarpley, the home's first owner, had also been a Portland lawyer. Setbacks in Tarpley's life led to the house auction(拍卖) in the late 1920s.

    "I'm only the fifth owner of the home," Lyon said.

    A previous owner was Frank Masco.

    He and his wife, Esther, and their nine children had lived across town in a tiny house needing constant repairs. In the mid-1950s, the elder Masco wanted to move to a bigger house and one closer to work. A docker (码头工人), he was on-call 24 hours a day and had to quickly get to the Willamette River docks.

    He found a home on Westover Road. At the time, many people wanted to live in new construction in the suburbs. The Westover house was offered at a deep discount.

    And later the family moved on several times, finally living in Vancouver.

    One Sunday in July 2019, Charley Masco drove to Portland for an appointment at a computer store. When it ended, he traveled the familiar route to Westover Road, pulled over and looked at that home.

    He decided to do something bold. He got out of his car and walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. He waited. No response. Nervous, he thought it was a mistake to do this and considered turning around and walking back to his car.

Barbee Lyon opened the door and saw a stranger.

    "I'm not selling anything," Masco said quickly. "I just want you to know I once lived here."

    Lyon opened the door wide.

    "Come in."

    And for the first time since 1966, Masco stepped into his childhood home.

    Every room looked as Masco had remembered it: The built-in china hutch in the dining room, the hanging lights above the table and, in the kitchen, a massive wood-burning stove where his mother used to cook family meals. It was as if he had walked into his own museum.

    Lyon told Masco he'd never done major structural remodeling, which meant Masco knew his way around the home.

    It was as if he had never left.

    There, on the top floor, was the window he and his siblings quietly opened to sneak out at night and return before their parents knew they were gone. The loft where friends daydreamed about the future. The living room – no TV ever allowed – where the family gathered to share music, play cards or just talk with each other.

    Then they all walked to the basement.

    In the far corner, Masco saw his father's old wooden workbench. And above it, baby food jars. Masco had forgotten about them.

    He explained that his father had nailed lids from the jars to a rafter, filling the glass with different size screws, nuts and bolts, and then screwing the jars back into the lids to give him easy access while working.

    Masco thought about his father, his mother and three of his siblings who have died. He thought about his father, tinkering in the basement, while his mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

    He thought about the 71-year-old man he was and the boy he had once been.

    Kruse, Lyon's wife, reached up and unscrewed a jar. She handed it to Masco, believing it belonged to this stranger.

    Masco thanked her.

    He clutched the small bottle to his chest.

    "My dad," he said quietly. "This is my dad."

After months of expectation and secrecy, the official mascot (吉祥物) of the 2022 Winter Olympic Games－a giant panda-inspired cartoon character－made its first public debut with cheers at Beijing's Shougang Ice Hockey Arena.

The panda is named “Bing Dwen Dwen” in Chinese. Bing means “ice” in Chinese, while Dwen Dwen suggests “health and cleverness”－characteristics also shared by pandas. Pandas are perhaps the most recognized animal species in China, organizers said.

“Pandas combine China's traditional culture and its modern appearance together with winter sports elements in a fascinating image (形象) that shows our great expectations for the Games and shows that we welcome the world,” said Beijing Mayor Chen Jining, who also serves as an executive president on the organizing committee.

“I have already seen the mascot and from what I've seen, it's a wonderful choice,” IOC President Thomas Bach said before introducing the character.” “The mascot really takes in the best elements and characteristics of China and the Chinese people. It will be a great ambassador (大使) for the country and the 24th Winter Olympics.”

The ring of light surrounding the mascot's face is suggestive of ice and snow tracks, as well as the flowing “ribbons” of the National Speed Skating Oval. The oval is one of two new competition sites in downtown Beijing expected to become a landmark of the Games, according to its chief designer Cao Xue.

The introduction of the mascots marks the key point of a journey that began in August 2018, when Beijing organizers started a global design competition for the mascots. A total of 5,816 designs were received from 35 countries, and were reviewed by Chinese and international experts in a comprehensive evaluation and selection process.

The new mascot will serve as spirited symbol of the Games that will take place in the three zones of downtown Beijing, the suburban district of Yanqing and co-host city Zhangjiakou in surrounding Hebei province.