我在函谷关守过门。

I once kept the gate at Hangu Pass.

守门这个活很无聊。每天就是站在那里看人进进出出。商人带着货物过关，要查。使节带着文书过关，要验。普通人过关，看一眼就放了。偶尔有逃犯，抓一下。大部分时候什么事都没有。太阳升起来，太阳落下去，换班，睡觉，第二天再来。

Gatekeeping is boring work. Every day you stand there watching people come and go. Merchants with their goods—inspect them. Envoys with their documents—verify them. Ordinary people—a glance and wave them through. Occasionally a fugitive. You grab him. Most of the time, nothing happens. The sun comes up, the sun goes down, shift change, sleep, back again the next day.

我不是关令。关令是尹喜，他是管事的，我是下面的人。我的事就是站着，看着，有情况喊一声。大部分时候不用喊。

I wasn't the pass commander. The commander was Yin Xi. He was in charge. I was one of the men under him. My job was to stand, watch, and call out if something happened. Most of the time, I didn't need to call out.

那天是一个很普通的日子。什么季节我不记得了。好像不太热也不太冷。风有一点，从西边来的，带着关外那种干的土味。

That day was a very ordinary day. What season it was I can't remember. Not too hot, not too cold. A bit of wind, from the west, carrying the dry, dusty smell of the land beyond the pass.

下午的时候来了一个老人。

In the afternoon, an old man arrived.

骑着一头牛。

Riding a water buffalo.

这个在当时不算太奇怪。骑牛的人不多，但有。马贵，驴也不便宜，牛是干活的，一般不骑。但如果一个人没有马又要走远路，骑牛也不是不行。只是慢。很慢。

This wasn't so unusual at the time. Not many people rode buffalo, but some did. Horses were expensive. Donkeys weren't cheap either. Buffalo were working animals, not normally ridden. But if a person had no horse and needed to travel far, riding a buffalo was possible. Just slow. Very slow.

老人从东边来。看起来岁数很大了，头发白了，胡子也白了。穿得很普通，不像有钱人也不像当官的。就是一个老人，骑着牛，慢慢地走过来。

The old man came from the east. He looked very old. White hair, white beard. Dressed plainly—not like a wealthy man, not like an official. Just an old man on a buffalo, coming along slowly.

我看了他一眼。按规矩应该问一下去哪里。出关的人要问，这是规矩。

I looked at him. By the rules I should ask where he was going. People leaving through the pass had to be asked. That was the rule.

我还没开口，关令尹喜从后面走了过来。

Before I could open my mouth, Commander Yin Xi walked over from behind me.

尹喜这个人跟我们不一样。他读书，看星象，对一些奇怪的东西有兴趣。我们这些守门的觉得他有点怪，但他是关令，我们也不说什么。

Yin Xi was different from the rest of us. He read books, studied the stars, took an interest in things we found strange. We guards thought he was a bit odd, but he was the commander, so we didn't say anything.

他看到那个老人的时候站住了。

When he saw the old man, he stopped still.

我不知道他看到了什么。也许他之前算到过什么，也许他从老人身上看到了什么我看不到的东西。反正他站在那里，看着那个骑牛慢慢走过来的老人，然后做了一件不正常的事——他走上前去，行了一个礼。

I don't know what he saw. Maybe he had calculated something beforehand. Maybe he saw something in the old man that I couldn't see. In any case, he stood there watching the old man ride slowly toward us on his buffalo, and then he did something unusual—he stepped forward and bowed.

我们关卒之间互相看了一眼。关令给一个骑牛的老头行礼？

The rest of us guards glanced at each other. The commander bowing to an old man on a buffalo?

后来的事我只看到了一部分。

What happened after that, I only saw part of.

尹喜把老人请进了关里的房子。他们在里面待了多久我不知道。有人说一天，有人说好几天。我在外面继续守门，他们在里面做什么我不清楚。

Yin Xi invited the old man inside the buildings at the pass. How long they stayed in there I don't know. Some say a day, some say several days. I was outside continuing my watch. What they did inside, I had no idea.

有人说老人写了一本书。或者说了一些话，尹喜记了下来。到底是写的还是说的，我也搞不清。后来那本书传出来了，不长，据说只有几千个字。有人念给我听过几句，我听不太懂。什么道什么德，什么有什么无的。

Someone said the old man wrote a book. Or said some things and Yin Xi wrote them down. Whether it was written or dictated, I was never clear on. Later the book got out. Not long—only a few thousand characters, they said. Someone read me a few lines once. I couldn't make much of it. Something about the way, something about virtue, something about being and nothingness.

我是一个守门的。我懂的是谁能过关谁不能过关。那些道理离我太远。

I'm a gatekeeper. What I understand is who can pass and who can't. Those ideas were too far from me.

然后老人走了。骑着那头牛，从关里出去，往西走了。

Then the old man left. Riding his buffalo, out through the pass, heading west.

尹喜送他到关口。我看到尹喜站在那里目送他走远。站了很久。老人和牛越来越小，变成一个点，最后看不到了。

Yin Xi saw him off at the gate. I watched Yin Xi stand there, watching the old man recede into the distance. He stood for a long time. The old man and the buffalo grew smaller and smaller, became a dot, and finally disappeared.

尹喜转身回来的时候脸上的表情很奇怪。不是高兴也不是难过。像是丢了什么东西但又不是。

When Yin Xi turned back, the expression on his face was strange. Not happy, not sad. Like he had lost something, but also not quite that.

后来有人问他那个老人是谁。他说了一个名字。那个名字我当时没记住，后来天下人都知道了。

Later someone asked him who the old man was. He said a name. I didn't catch it at the time. Later, everyone in the world knew it.

我后来离开了函谷关。回到自己的村子。种地，成家，过日子。

I eventually left Hangu Pass. Went back to my village. Farmed, married, lived my life.

那个老人的事偶尔会有人提起。他留下的那本书传得越来越广。有人开始修道，有人开始讲道，有人建了观。他的名字越来越大。

The old man's story came up now and then. The book he left behind spread further and further. People began practicing the way, preaching the way, building temples. His name grew and grew.

但这些跟我没什么关系。我见过他吗？见过。就是一个骑牛的老人。白头发白胡子。慢慢地走过来，慢慢地走过去。

None of this had much to do with me. Had I seen him? I had. He was an old man riding a buffalo. White hair, white beard. Coming slowly, going slowly.

有人问我：他是什么样的人？

People asked me: what was he like?

我说不上来。我跟他没有说过话。我只看了他一眼。就那一眼。

I couldn't say. I never spoke to him. I only looked at him once. Just that once.

但那一眼我记到现在。

But that one look I remember to this day.

不是因为他长什么样——一个老人的样子，你能看出什么来？是因为他骑在牛上的那个姿势。怎么说呢。我见过很多人骑马骑驴骑牛，每个人骑在上面都像是在赶路——身体往前倾，心思已经到了目的地，屁股底下的牲口只是一个工具，用来把他从这里搬到那里。

Not because of what he looked like—he was an old man, what can you tell from that? It was the way he sat on the buffalo. How to put it. I've seen many people ride horses, donkeys, buffalo. Every one of them sits as though they're trying to get somewhere—body leaning forward, mind already at the destination, the animal underneath just a tool for getting from here to there.

这个老人不一样。他骑在牛上面好像不是在赶路。好像他已经到了。不是到了函谷关——是到了某个别的地方。他的身体在牛背上，但他不是在去哪里，也不是从哪里来。他就在那里。在牛背上。在那个下午。在那阵风里。

This old man was different. He sat on the buffalo as though he were not traveling. As though he had already arrived. Not arrived at Hangu Pass—arrived somewhere else. His body was on the buffalo's back, but he wasn't going anywhere and he wasn't coming from anywhere. He was just there. On the buffalo. In that afternoon. In that wind.

我说不出更多了。就这些。一个老人骑着牛从我面前经过。

I can't say more than that. That's all. An old man on a buffalo passed in front of me.

年头多了以后我回过一次函谷关。关还在那里，换了人守。我站在当年站的那个位置，看着路上来来往往的人。

After many years I went back to Hangu Pass once. The pass was still there, different people guarding it. I stood in the spot where I used to stand and watched people coming and going on the road.

有人骑马过去了。有人赶着驴过去了。有人挑着担子走过去了。每个人都在赶路。每个人身上都有一种急的东西——急着到什么地方去，急着做什么事，急着成为什么人。

Someone rode past on a horse. Someone drove a donkey past. Someone walked by carrying a load on a pole. Everyone was hurrying. Everyone had that urgent quality about them—rushing to get somewhere, rushing to do something, rushing to become someone.

我站在那里看了很久。

I stood there watching for a long time.

我在等什么？我不知道。也许在等再来一个骑牛的老人。那种不赶路的姿势。那种已经到了的样子。

What was I waiting for? I don't know. Maybe for another old man on a buffalo. That unhurried way of sitting. That look of having already arrived.

没有等到。

He didn't come.

但我在那里站了一个下午。没有任何原因。就是站着。

But I stood there all afternoon. For no reason at all. Just standing.

后来我走了。回家。该干什么干什么。

Then I left. Went home. Did what needed doing.

但有时候，站在一个地方不动的时候——不是在等什么人也不是在做什么事，就是站着——我会突然觉得那个下午还在。关口的风，土的味道，一个老人骑着牛慢慢地从面前经过。

But sometimes, when I'm standing somewhere and not moving—not waiting for anyone, not doing anything, just standing—I suddenly feel that afternoon is still here. The wind at the pass, the smell of dust, an old man riding a buffalo slowly past.

不是想起来的。是它自己来的。来了就走了。像风一样。

It's not something I call up. It comes on its own. Comes and goes. Like wind.

我在路上遇到过一个老人。

I once met an old man on the road.

这句话什么都没说。路上遇到老人是天底下最正常的事。但我说的是一个特定的老人，一个特定的路。那天的事情什么都没发生，但我记了一辈子。

That sentence says nothing. Meeting an old man on a road is the most ordinary thing in the world. But I mean a particular old man, on a particular road. Nothing happened that day, but I have remembered it all my life.

那天我在赶路。去哪里我不记得了。可能去市集，可能去亲戚家，可能去办什么别的事。反正是一条土路，太阳快落的时候，路上没什么人。

That day I was on my way somewhere. Where, I can't recall. Maybe to the market, maybe to a relative's house, maybe on some other errand. In any case it was a dirt road, near sundown, not many people about.

前面有一个人，骑着牛，很慢。

Up ahead, someone on a buffalo. Very slow.

我走路比牛快，所以慢慢就追上了。走到旁边的时候我看了一眼。

I walk faster than a buffalo, so I gradually caught up. When I drew alongside, I glanced over.

是个老人。很老了。白头发散着，没有束起来。衣服旧的但干净。脸上的皱纹很多很深。他骑在牛上，不紧不慢的。

An old man. Very old. White hair hanging loose, not tied up. Clothes worn but clean. Deep lines across his face. He sat on the buffalo, in no particular hurry.

我从他旁边走过的时候他看了我一眼。

As I passed him, he looked at me.

就一眼。很平常的一眼。路上遇到人了，互相看一下，然后各走各的。每天都在发生的事。

Just a look. A perfectly ordinary look. You meet someone on the road, you glance at each other, then go your separate ways. It happens every day.

但他的那一眼不太一样。

But his look was different.

我说不出哪里不一样。他没有对我笑，没有点头，没有打招呼。就是看了一下。但那一下好像他把我看完了。不是看了我的脸或者我的衣服——是把我整个人看了一下。看完了，然后继续往前走。好像他知道了关于我的一切，但又觉得这些一切不是什么了不起的事，看完就放下了。

I can't say how it was different. He didn't smile at me, didn't nod, didn't greet me. He just looked. But in that look it was as though he had finished looking at me. Not at my face or my clothes—at the whole of me, taken in at once. Looked, finished, and moved on. As though he now knew everything about me, but also felt that everything about me was nothing remarkable. Seen and set down.

我从他旁边走过去之后，回头看了一眼。

After I passed him, I looked back once.

他的背影也很普通。一个老人骑着牛，慢慢地走。越来越小。太阳快落了，他的影子拖得很长，人和牛的影子连在一起，像一个奇怪的形状铺在路上。

His back was ordinary too. An old man on a buffalo, going slowly. Getting smaller. The sun was nearly down. His shadow stretched out long behind him, the man's shadow and the buffalo's shadow joined together, making a strange shape laid across the road.

我转过头继续走自己的路。

I turned back around and continued on my way.

后来我到了要去的地方，办了该办的事。回来了。日子照过。

Later I arrived where I was going, did what I needed to do, came back. Life went on.

过了很久——也许几个月，也许一两年——我听到一些传说。说有一个很厉害的老者从东边来，经过函谷关出去了。留下了一本书。说的是天地之间最大的道理。有人说他是圣人。有人说他是神仙。有人说他骑着一头青牛。

A long time afterward—maybe a few months, maybe a year or two—I heard some stories. They said a remarkable old sage had come from the east, passed through Hangu Pass, and left. Left behind a book. The book contained the greatest truths between heaven and earth. Some said he was a sage. Some said he was an immortal. Some said he rode a water buffalo.

我听到"骑着牛"的时候心里动了一下。

When I heard "rode a buffalo," something stirred inside me.

但我不确定是不是同一个人。骑牛的老人又不是只有一个。也许是，也许不是。世上白头发的老人多了。

But I wasn't sure it was the same man. There's more than one old man who rides a buffalo. Maybe it was him, maybe not. There are plenty of white-haired old men in the world.

有人把那本书里的话传来传去。什么"道可道非常道"，什么"上善若水"。我听了，有些觉得有意思，有些觉得太玄了。

People passed around lines from the book. Something about "the way that can be spoken is not the constant way," something about "the highest good is like water." I listened. Some of it seemed interesting. Some of it seemed too abstract.

但我想的不是那些话。我想的是那一眼。

But I wasn't thinking about those words. I was thinking about that look.

我后来过了很普通的日子。没什么值得说的。活着，做事，老了。

I lived a very ordinary life afterward. Nothing worth mentioning. Living, working, getting old.

但有时候路上遇到人的时候——迎面走来一个陌生人，互相看一眼然后错过——我会在那一眼上多停一下。

But sometimes when I meet someone on the road—a stranger walking toward me, a mutual glance, then passing each other—I linger on that glance a moment longer.

不是在看那个人。是在想：这个人看我的时候，看到了什么？

Not looking at the person. Wondering: when this person looks at me, what do they see?

那个老人看我的时候好像什么都看到了。又好像看到了也无所谓。那种眼神不是审判，不是评价，也不是关心。就是看了。像是水从石头上流过去，石头是什么形状水不在乎，流过去就流过去了。

When that old man looked at me, it was as though he saw everything. And as though having seen it, it didn't matter. That look was not judgment, not appraisal, not concern. It was just seeing. Like water flowing over a stone—the water doesn't care what shape the stone is. It flows over and moves on.

我这辈子再没有被人那样看过。

No one has ever looked at me that way again in my life.

也许那只是一个普通老人的普通一眼，是我自己想多了。很有可能。人就是这样，一件小事你想多了它就变大了。也许他根本不记得他看过我。也许他看每个人都是那样。也许那天他只是累了，眼神恍惚，碰巧看了我一下。

Maybe it was just an ordinary old man's ordinary glance, and I've made too much of it. Very possible. That's how people are—think too much about a small thing and it grows large. Maybe he didn't even remember looking at me. Maybe he looked at everyone that way. Maybe he was just tired that day, his gaze unfocused, and it happened to land on me.

都有可能。

All possible.

但从那以后，我跟人对视的时候会多停一下。不是在学他——我学不来那种眼神。是在等。等看看那种眼神会不会再来一次。

But since then, whenever I meet someone's eyes, I linger a moment. Not trying to imitate his look—I couldn't reproduce that gaze. Just waiting. Waiting to see if that kind of look will come again.

没有来过。

It never has.

但我还是会等。每次都等一下。

But I still wait. A moment, every time.

背上有东西。

Something on my back.

有时候有，有时候没有。没有的时候轻，有的时候重一点。不是很重。不像拉车那种重。是一种坐在上面的重。

Sometimes there, sometimes not. When it's not there, light. When it is, heavier. Not very heavy. Not like pulling a cart. It's a sitting-down kind of heavy.

背上坐过很多东西。有的重，有的轻。有的坐上来的时候会用脚踢我的肚子，让我快走。我不喜欢那种。有的会拉绳子勒我的嘴，往左拉往左走往右拉往右走。嘴疼的时候我会甩头。

Many things have sat on my back. Some heavy, some light. Some kick my belly when they get on, wanting me to go faster. I don't like that kind. Some pull the rope and hurt my mouth—pull left to go left, pull right to go right. When my mouth hurts I shake my head.

有一个不一样。

One was different.

他什么时候坐上来的我不记得了。也不是"不记得"——我不知道什么是记得。只是有一天背上有了一个重量，那个重量跟以前的不一样。

When he got on I don't remember. "Remember" is not something I know about. Just one day there was a weight on my back, and that weight was not like the ones before.

不重。甚至比以前的那些都轻一些。

Not heavy. Even lighter than most of them, maybe.

但不一样在哪里呢。以前背上的那些重量都是急的。急着去什么地方。你能从重量的方式感觉出来——身体往前倾，重心在你的脖子上面，整个人都在催你快走。屁股坐在你背上但心不在你背上，心在前面，在路的那头，在某个要去的地方。

But different how? The weights before were all in a hurry. Hurrying to get somewhere. You could feel it in the way they sat—body tilting forward, the center of gravity over your neck, the whole person pushing you to go faster. They sat on your back but their mind wasn't on your back. Their mind was ahead, down the road, at some place they needed to reach.

这个不是。

This one wasn't like that.

这个重量坐在我背上的方式不一样。不往前倾。不催。就是坐着。重量分布得很均匀，不压一边。好像这个重量不是在赶路，只是在这里。就在我的背上。就在现在。

This weight sat differently. Didn't lean forward. Didn't push. Just sat. The weight was evenly spread, not pressing to one side. As though this weight wasn't traveling—just here. Right on my back. Right now.

我走得慢。没人催我就走得慢。我喜欢慢。慢的时候能吃路边的草。走几步停下来吃一口，再走几步再吃一口。以前背上的那些重量不让我停，拉绳子催我。这个不拉。我停他也停。我吃草他就坐在上面等。不催。

I walked slowly. When nobody pushes, I walk slowly. I like slow. When it's slow I can eat grass by the road. Walk a few steps, stop, eat a mouthful, walk a few more steps, eat another mouthful. The weights before wouldn't let me stop. They pulled the rope, pushed me on. This one didn't pull. When I stopped, he stopped. When I ate grass, he sat up there and waited. No pushing.

有时候他的手会摸一下我的脖子。不是拍，不是打，就是摸。像是在说什么，但我不知道他在说什么。手的温度不高不低，放在我脖子上一会儿就拿开了。

Sometimes his hand would touch my neck. Not a slap, not a hit. Just a touch. As though saying something, but I don't know what. The hand was neither hot nor cold. It rested on my neck for a moment and then lifted away.

那只手跟别的手不一样。别的手摸你是要你做什么。往左走，往右走，快一点，停下来。都是要你做什么。这只手摸你不是要你做什么。就是摸了一下。

That hand was different from other hands. Other hands touch you because they want you to do something. Go left, go right, faster, stop. Always wanting something. This hand touched and didn't want anything. It just touched.

路走了多久我不知道。太阳出来了好几次。有时候下雨，他也不下来。就坐在上面淋着。雨水从他身上流到我的背上，不冷。

How long the road was I don't know. The sun came up several times. Sometimes it rained, and he didn't get down. Just sat up there in the rain. The water ran from him onto my back. It wasn't cold.

路过有人的地方。有人看我们。我不在乎有人看。人看我就像我看路边的树，看了就看了。

We passed places with people. People looked at us. I don't care when people look. People look at me the way I look at trees by the road. Looked and that's that.

有一次到了一个关口。很多人在那里。那个重量从我背上下来了。

Once we came to a gate. Many people there. The weight got off my back.

他下来的方式也不一样。别人下来都是一跳或者一滑，急着脚落地。他下来的时候很慢，好像舍不得离开我的背，又好像不是舍不得，只是不急。他的脚碰到地的时候我感觉到背上轻了，但那种"轻"不是解脱的轻，是少了什么东西的轻。

He got down differently too. Other people dismount with a jump or a slide, in a rush for their feet to touch the ground. He got down slowly, as though reluctant to leave my back—or not reluctant, just unhurried. When his foot touched the earth, I felt my back lighten, but that lightness wasn't the lightness of relief. It was the lightness of something missing.

他下来之后拍了我一下。在脖子上。

After he got down, he patted me once. On the neck.

然后他进了那个关口里面的房子。我被拴在外面。有人给了我草吃。我吃了。

Then he went into a building inside the gate. I was tied up outside. Someone gave me grass. I ate.

过了一段时间他出来了。又坐上来了。那个重量回来了。

After a while he came out. Got back on. The weight returned.

后来他又下来了。

Later he got down again.

是在一个我不认识的地方。一条路，很长，看不到头。他下来了。这次比上次慢。他站在我旁边站了一会儿。然后又摸了一下我的脖子。

In a place I didn't know. A road, very long, with no end in sight. He got down. Slower than last time. He stood beside me for a while. Then he touched my neck again.

那只手停在我脖子上的时间比以前长。

That hand stayed on my neck longer than before.

然后他走了。往路的那头走。没有回头。

Then he walked away. Toward the far end of the road. He didn't look back.

我站在那里。背上没有东西了。轻了。但不是好的那种轻。是空的那种轻。

I stood there. Nothing on my back anymore. Light. But not the good kind of light. The empty kind.

有人来牵我。牵到一个地方，给我吃东西，给我喝水。后来又有人骑我。别的人。别的重量。

Someone came and led me away. Took me somewhere, gave me food, gave me water. Later other people rode me. Other weights.

后来背上有过很多重量。急的，慢的，重的，轻的。都有。拉绳子的，踢肚子的，拍脖子的。

Many weights have been on my back since then. Hurried ones, slow ones, heavy ones, light ones. All kinds. The ones who pull the rope, who kick the belly, who pat the neck.

但没有一个跟那个一样。

But none of them were the same as that one.

不是因为那个特别重或者特别轻。是因为那个重量在我背上的时候，我不想去任何地方。不是因为累不想走。是因为不需要去。就在那里就够了。背上有那个重量，吃着路边的草，太阳晒着。这就够了。

Not because that one was especially heavy or especially light. Because when that weight was on my back, I didn't want to go anywhere. Not because I was too tired to walk. Because there was no need. Just being there was enough. That weight on my back, eating grass by the road, the sun shining down. That was enough.

后来不管谁坐在我背上，我都觉得少了什么。不是少了重量——重量够了，有时候还太重了。是少了那种"不需要去任何地方"的感觉。

After that, no matter who sat on my back, I felt something was missing. Not missing weight—there was enough weight, sometimes too much. Missing that feeling of not needing to go anywhere.

我说不出来。我什么都说不出来。我是一头牛。

I can't say it. I can't say anything. I'm a buffalo.

现在我老了。没人骑了。被拴在一棵树底下，每天吃草，晒太阳。

Now I'm old. Nobody rides me anymore. I'm tied under a tree. Every day I eat grass and stand in the sun.

有时候有人从旁边走过去。他们走路的样子都是急的。身体往前倾，心在前面。每个人都在赶路。

Sometimes people walk past. The way they walk is always hurried. Bodies leaning forward, minds already ahead. Everyone on their way somewhere.

我站在树底下看他们走过去。

I stand under the tree and watch them pass.

有时候背上会痒。不是真的痒——是那种记忆的痒。好像有一个重量还在那里，很轻，不催我，就坐着。

Sometimes my back itches. Not a real itch—a memory itch. As though a weight is still there, very light, not pushing, just sitting.

然后风来了。风从西边来，带着干的土味。

Then the wind comes. From the west, carrying the dry smell of dust.

我抬起头，往路的尽头看了一眼。

I raise my head and look once toward the end of the road.

什么也没有。路空着。

Nothing there. The road is empty.

我低下头继续吃草。

I lower my head and go on eating grass.