山燈不熄

陽光漸盛，清風微微吹動，修遠看著茶杯裡的熱氣打著旋，如同他此時的懸念思緒。

The sunlight grew stronger, and a gentle breeze stirred. Xiuyuan stared at the swirling steam rising from his teacup—just like the tangled thoughts within him.

他抬起頭，望著那位沙彌離去的方向，腦中閃過一個念頭。

He looked up toward the path the young monk had taken. A thought flashed through his mind.

「那位師父會是……他嗎？」修遠眼怔怔地發著呆。

“Could that master… be him?” Xiuyuan murmured, eyes distant in a daze.

「你是….想找誰嗎？」一道聲音輕輕從旁傳來。一位中年居士，手中捧著一束鮮花，經過前庭，見他望著後院發呆，便停下了腳步一問。

“Are you… looking for someone?” a gentle voice came from the side. A middle-aged layman holding a bundle of fresh flowers had passed by the front yard and paused, seeing Xiuyuan lost in thought.

修遠回了神，禮貌地微笑道：「哦……沒事！我只是好奇，剛剛那位年輕沙彌的師父，會是什麼樣的人？」

Snapping back to himself, Xiuyuan smiled politely. “Oh… it’s nothing. I was just curious—what kind of person is that young monk’s master?”

那居士微微一笑：「年輕沙彌嗎？哦！你是說慧本師嗎？」

The layman smiled. “The young monk? Ah, you must mean Hui-ben.”

「慧本？」修遠喃喃念出。

“Hui-ben?” Xiuyuan repeated quietly.

「是啊，他雖年紀輕，但跟隨師父多年了，做事仔細、心也靜。」那居士頓了一下，接著說，「你第一次來這裡吧？看你剛才的眼神，好像不是只是路過。」

“Yes. Though he’s young, he’s followed his master for years. Careful, calm-hearted.” The man paused, then added, “Is this your first time here? Your eyes earlier… they didn’t seem like someone just passing by.”

修遠遲疑了一下，語氣中藏著不易察覺的試探：「這寺裡的師父……是不是有一位戴眼鏡、穿黃色長衫的僧人？」

Xiuyuan hesitated, his tone probing, almost unconsciously. “Is there… a master here who wears glasses and a long yellow robe?”

居士微微一怔，神情變得柔和，緩緩點頭：「你見過不空師父嗎？」

The man’s expression softened as he nodded slowly. “You’ve met Master Bukong, haven’t you?”

修遠點點頭，又遲疑地說：「只見過一次，在雨中……我不太確定是不是他。」

Xiuyuan nodded again, this time uncertain. “Only once… in the rain. I’m not even sure if it was really him.”

居士沒多問，只輕聲說：「既然見過，那就是有緣分。能記得那個畫面，也許是他想讓你記得。」

The layman asked no more and simply said gently, “If you’ve seen him, then it’s fate. And if you remember that moment, perhaps… it’s because he wanted you to.”

說罷，中年居士捧著鮮花，朝著竹林中的石徑，往後院的方向走去。腳步平穩，背影沉靜，像是剛剛那句話也只是風中的一葉，飄然而去。

With that, the man turned and walked toward the stone path through the bamboo grove, heading for the rear garden. His steps were steady, his figure calm—as if his words were a leaf in the wind, drifting away.

修遠輕輕放下手中的茶杯，站起身來，心中既期待但腳步又不甚篤定。他慢慢沿著竹林小徑的方向走去，只見寺內佈局簡樸，石磚牆上無多餘的裝飾，只有歲月的舊痕與轉為金黃的苔蘚，時間彷彿在這裡走得特別慢。

Xiuyuan gently placed down his teacup and rose to his feet. Hopeful yet hesitant, he began walking toward the bamboo path. The temple’s layout was simple—no ornate carvings, only the weathered marks of time and golden moss clinging to the stone. Time, here, seemed to move slower.

路旁，一些信眾正靜靜掃地、澆花，偶爾有人與他擦肩而過，微笑合十。沒有人問他從哪來，也沒人問他要去哪。

Along the way, a few devotees swept the ground or watered flowers in silence. Some passed him with folded palms and gentle smiles. No one asked where he had come from—or where he was going.

轉過一片樹叢，眼前出現一條木造迴廊，連接著兩棟建築，古樸而幽靜。晨光從樹隙間落下，灑在木頭上，彷彿舊夢投下的影子。

Beyond a cluster of shrubs appeared a wooden corridor linking two buildings—simple and serene. Morning light spilled through the trees, casting shadows across the wood like echoes of old dreams.

就在那一刻，走廊的盡頭，一道熟悉的背影緩緩浮現。

In that moment, at the end of the corridor, a familiar figure emerged.

灰瓦黃衣，步履如風。

Grey tiles. Yellow robes. A step light as wind.

那是……那個夜裡，他曾在雨中見過的身影。

It was… the figure he had seen that night, in the rain.

他站住了，屏息凝視。

He stopped, holding his breath.

不遠處，黃衣僧人輕輕轉身進入側門，只留下一縷衣角在風中飄動。

The yellow-robed monk gently turned and entered a side door, leaving behind just the flutter of his robe in the wind.

修遠沒有追上前，只靜靜站著。胸口有什麼東西，被某種無形的線牽引，拉動、繃緊——像是命運的某個節點，在此刻輕輕被觸動。

Xiuyuan didn’t follow. He simply stood there. Something in his chest stirred—as if an invisible thread had been pulled taut. A silent chord of fate, plucked at just this moment.

這裡，不會是他停留的終點。

This place would not be his final stop.

而是嶄新的開端。

But rather, a brand-new beginning.