掃不盡的落葉

「你不是害怕忘記她。」「你是害怕有一天——想起她的時候，不再那麼痛了。」風從迴廊下穿過。那片剛落下的竹葉，在石板上輕輕翻了一面，又貼著地面滑行了幾尺，最後停在修遠腳邊。

“You are not afraid of forgetting her. You are afraid that one day—remembering her will no longer hurt so much.” Wind moved beneath the corridor. The fallen bamboo leaf turned once, slid several feet across the stones, and came to rest beside Xiuyuan.

修遠沒有彎腰去撿。他坐在老樹下的木椅上，雙手仍緊緊交握，像要按住什麼即將從胸口湧出的東西。不空師父站在迴廊盡頭，黃衣落在一半晨光、一半竹影之中，神情依舊平靜。那樣的平靜，讓修遠心裡忽然生出一股說不清的惱怒。

He did not bend to pick it up. Seated beneath the old tree, his hands remained tightly clasped, as though holding back something about to surge from his chest. Master Bukong stood at the end of the corridor, his yellow robe divided between morning light and bamboo shadow. His calmness stirred an anger Xiuyuan could not explain.

「你一直在看我？」他問。不空師父沒有否認，只沿著迴廊緩緩走來。他的腳步很輕。經過慧本身旁時，慧本合掌行了一禮，將自己的掃帚靠回牆邊，轉身往後院走去。庭院裡沒有誰交代誰，也沒有多餘的言語，彷彿每個人都知道此刻應該把什麼留下，又該把什麼暫時帶走。

“You were watching me?” he asked. Master Bukong did not deny it. He walked slowly along the corridor. Passing Huiben, the novice joined his palms, placed his broom against the wall, and left for the rear courtyard. No one instructed anyone; each seemed to know what should remain and what should be carried away for a while.

不空師父來到茶桌旁，沒有立刻坐下。他先提起茶壺，以手背輕觸壺身，確認溫度後，才取來兩只杯子。「你剛才笑了。」他說。修遠的目光微微一沉。「只是看到那隻貓。」「嗯。」「那不代表什麼。」「我也沒有說代表什麼。」

At the tea table, Master Bukong first touched the pot with the back of his hand, then brought two cups. “You smiled just now,” he said. Xiuyuan’s expression darkened. “It was only the cat.” “Mm.” “It meant nothing.” “I did not say that it did.”

修遠抬頭看他。師父已在對面坐下，正將熱水緩緩注入壺中。水聲很細，茶香卻很快散開，在清晨微涼的空氣裡，多了一層溫潤的氣味。「那你剛才那句話是什麼意思？」修遠問。

Xiuyuan looked up. The master had sat opposite him and was pouring hot water into the pot. The sound was delicate, and the fragrance of tea spread through the cool morning air. “Then what did you mean?” Xiuyuan asked.

不空師父沒有立刻回答。他蓋上壺蓋，靜靜等了一會兒。那段等待並不長，修遠卻覺得四周的聲音忽然都被放大了。竹葉摩擦，水滴落進石缸，遠處有人放下一只木桶；就連壺中茶葉慢慢舒展的聲音，都彷彿可以被聽見。

Master Bukong replaced the lid and waited. In that brief pause, every sound grew distinct: bamboo leaves brushing, a drop falling into the basin, a wooden bucket set down in the distance—even the tea leaves seemed audible as they slowly opened.

片刻後，不空師父提壺，將茶湯倒進杯中。淡褐色的水流經壺口，茶葉仍留在壺裡，一片也沒有落進杯中。他將其中一杯推到修遠面前。「茶葉沒有留在杯裡，這還算是茶嗎？」修遠皺了皺眉。他不知道師父為什麼突然問這個，仍低頭看了一眼。「當然算。」「為什麼？」「味道已經泡進水裡了。」不空師父點了點頭。「葉子不在眼前，茶香也沒有因此消失。」

He poured the amber tea. The leaves remained within the pot; not one entered the cup. Pushing a cup toward Xiuyuan, he asked, “If the leaves do not remain in the cup, is this still tea?” Xiuyuan frowned. “Of course.” “Why?” “Their flavor has already entered the water.”

修遠的手停在杯沿前。他沒有碰那杯茶。晨光從枝葉間落下，映得茶面微微發亮。熱氣升起，在兩人之間繞了一下，很快便散了。

Master Bukong nodded. “The leaves are no longer before you, yet their fragrance has not disappeared.” Xiuyuan’s hand stopped at the rim. Morning light shone upon the tea as steam rose between them and dispersed.

「你是在說小艾？」修遠問。不空師父端起自己的杯子，卻沒有飲用。「我只是在說，有些人離開了，並不表示什麼都沒有留下。」修遠的下顎繃緊了。「這些話很容易說。」「是，不難說。」

“You mean Xiao Ai?” Xiuyuan asked. Master Bukong lifted his cup without drinking. “I am only saying that when someone leaves, it does not mean nothing remains.” Xiuyuan’s jaw tightened. “Those words are easy to say.” “Yes. They are not difficult to say.”

「可你不是我。」修遠的聲音重了一些，「你也沒有每天經過那條路，沒有在半夜聽見雨聲，就想起她怕黑。你更不知道我站在那個洞旁邊，看見她的鞋子時——」他的話忽然斷了。

“But you are not me,” Xiuyuan said more forcefully. “You have not walked that road every day. You do not wake to rain at midnight and remember that she was afraid of the dark. You do not know what it was like to stand beside that opening and see her shoe—” His words stopped.

庭院仍然安靜。不空師父沒有催促，也沒有用一句安慰填補那段空白，只將茶杯輕輕放回桌面。修遠望著自己的手。方才掃地時沾上的灰，還留在掌紋之間。那些細小的黑痕，像怎麼擦也擦不乾淨的舊事。

The courtyard remained still. Master Bukong did not press him and did not fill the silence with consolation. He simply set his cup down. Xiuyuan stared at the dust caught in the lines of his palms, small dark traces like old events that could never be washed completely away.

「所有人都叫我放下。」他低聲說，「警察這樣說，醫生這樣說，連她媽媽最後也這樣說。」不空師父問：「你聽見的『放下』，是什麼？」

“Everyone told me to let go,” he said quietly. “The police, the doctor—even her mother in the end.” Master Bukong asked, “What does ‘letting go’ mean when you hear it?”

修遠沉默片刻。「就是承認她不會回來。」「還有呢？」「把她的東西收起來，不再去那裡，不再提起那一天。然後像其他人一樣吃飯、工作，好像什麼都沒有發生過。」「這是誰告訴你的？」修遠愣了一下。「不都是這樣嗎？」

After a pause, Xiuyuan answered, “Admitting she will not return. Putting away her things. No longer going there, no longer speaking of that day. Then eating and working like everyone else, as if nothing ever happened.” “Who told you that?” “Isn’t that what it means?”

不空師父搖了搖頭。「那不是放下。」「那是什麼？」「那是你想像中，別人要求你遺忘的模樣。」

Master Bukong shook his head. “That is not letting go.” “Then what is it?” “It is the shape you imagine other people want forgetting to take.”

風又吹進庭院，枝頭落下幾片新葉。其中一片落在方才掃淨的地方，另一片停在灰貓留下的腳印旁。不空師父看著它們，緩緩說：「放下，不是把記憶丟掉。就像掃地，不是要求從今以後再也沒有一片葉子落下。」

Wind entered the courtyard again, bringing down new leaves. One fell on the place they had cleared; another settled beside the cat’s pawprints. “Letting go does not mean throwing memory away,” the master said. “Sweeping does not demand that no leaf ever fall again.”

「葉子還會來，雨也還會下。你還是會想起她，也還是可能難過。」師父將目光移回修遠身上。「只是有一天，當記憶再回來，你不必每一次都跟著回到七年前。」

“Leaves will return, and rain will fall again. You will remember her and may still grieve. But one day, when the memory returns, you need not return with it every time to seven years ago.”

修遠的胸口像被什麼壓了一下。他終於伸手端起茶杯。杯身的暖意貼著掌心，明明並不燙，他卻握得很小心，像怕自己稍一用力，手裡的東西就會碎裂。「如果不痛了，還算記得嗎？」他問。聲音比剛才低了許多。

Something pressed upon Xiuyuan’s chest. At last he lifted the cup. Its warmth rested against his palm, and though it was not hot, he held it carefully, as if it might shatter at the slightest pressure. “If it no longer hurts, does that still count as remembering?”

不空師父沒有立即回答，而是反問：「小艾活著的時候，只給過你痛苦嗎？」修遠的手指輕輕一顫。

Master Bukong answered with another question. “When Xiao Ai was alive, did she give you only pain?” Xiuyuan’s fingers trembled.

一幅幅零碎的畫面忽然從記憶深處浮起。小艾趴在地板上畫畫，彩色筆滾得到處都是；小艾吃麵時不小心沾到鼻尖，自己還沒有發現；小艾背著書包站在門口，明明等得著急，一看見他仍先笑著說：「爸爸，你來了。」

Fragments rose from deep within memory: Xiao Ai lying on the floor drawing, colored pens rolling everywhere; noodles touching the tip of her nose without her noticing; her waiting at the door with her schoolbag and, despite her impatience, smiling first when she saw him: “Dad, you came.”

那些畫面太明亮了。修遠幾乎是本能地將它們推回去。他低頭喝了一口茶，淡淡的苦味先碰到舌尖，過了一會兒，才有一點甘甜從喉間慢慢浮上來。

The images were too bright. Instinctively, Xiuyuan pushed them back. He drank. A faint bitterness touched his tongue, and only afterward did sweetness slowly rise in his throat.

「她以前很愛笑。」修遠說。「我知道。」不空師父回答得很自然。

“She used to laugh a lot,” he said. “I know,” Master Bukong replied naturally. Xiuyuan did not notice the strangeness of the answer at once.

修遠沒有立刻察覺。他望著茶面，繼續說：「她不太會跟人吵。就算在學校受了委屈，也總說沒關係。她媽媽說她太會看大人的臉色，我以前還覺得，懂事不是很好嗎？」說到這裡，他的嘴角動了一下，卻不是笑。「後來我才知道，有時候孩子說沒關係，只是不想讓大人為難。」

Looking down at the tea, he continued. “She rarely argued. Even when something upset her at school, she always said it was fine. Her mother said she watched adults’ faces too carefully. I used to think being sensible was a good thing.” His mouth moved, but not in a smile. “Later I learned that sometimes a child says it is fine only because she does not want to trouble the adults.”

不空師父靜靜聽著。「那段時間，她跟著我。」修遠停了一會兒，像在斟酌每一個字，「她媽媽雖然常來看她，可是每天照顧她的人，是我。」他的手慢慢收緊，杯中的茶湯微微晃動。「她應該在學校等我的。」這句話說得很輕，卻像藏著一扇沉重的門。「那天也是。」

Master Bukong listened. “At that time, she lived with me,” Xiuyuan said, choosing each word. “Her mother visited often, but I was the one caring for her every day.” His grip tightened, and the tea quivered. “She should have been waiting for me at school. That day too.”

不空師父看著他，沒有問「哪一天」。修遠的目光越過茶桌，落在庭院某處。他彷彿看見的已不是石板與竹影，而是另一條被雨水淹沒的街道。

Master Bukong did not ask which day. Xiuyuan’s gaze passed beyond the table, as though the stones and bamboo shadows had become another street submerged in rain.

「我一直以為，只要我去得夠久，只要我每天都在那裡等，她就會知道爸爸沒有不要她。」「我只是晚了一點。」「我沒有不要她。」最後一句，幾乎像是說給一個不在庭院裡的人聽。

“I thought that if I kept going long enough—if I waited there every day—she would know her father had not abandoned her. I was only a little late. I did not abandon her.” The last words seemed addressed to someone beyond the courtyard.

不空師父的神情沒有變，眼底卻多了一層難以言說的柔和。「你每天去那裡，是在等小艾回來，還是在等她告訴你，她從來沒有怪過你？」

Master Bukong’s expression remained steady, though a deeper tenderness entered his eyes. “When you go there each day, are you waiting for Xiao Ai to return, or waiting for her to tell you that she never blamed you?”

修遠猛然抬頭。「她沒有機會告訴我。」「那麼，你為什麼替她決定，她一定在怪你？」修遠張了張口，卻沒有聲音。

Xiuyuan looked up sharply. “She never had the chance to tell me.” “Then why have you decided on her behalf that she must blame you?” Xiuyuan opened his mouth, but no sound came.

茶壺上方的熱氣已經淡了。庭院裡的陽光移過半尺，照亮桌面一道細小的裂痕。不空師父說：「這七年來，你一直在審判自己。只是那個判你有罪的人，從來不是小艾。」

The steam above the teapot had thinned. Sunlight had shifted across the courtyard and illuminated a fine crack in the tabletop. Master Bukong said, “For seven years, you have been judging yourself. But the one who pronounced you guilty was never Xiao Ai.”

修遠將茶杯重重放下。杯底碰到木桌，發出一聲短促的輕響，幾滴茶濺在他的手背上。「你憑什麼知道？」他的聲音終於壓不住了。「你不認識她，也不知道她經歷了什麼。你只是在雨裡見過我一次，就說什麼心之門，現在又告訴我她沒有怪我。」

Xiuyuan set the cup down hard. Tea splashed onto the back of his hand. “How could you know?” His voice finally broke free. “You did not know her. You do not know what she went through. You saw me once in the rain, spoke about some door of the heart, and now you tell me she did not blame me.”

不空師父沒有避開他的目光。「你憑什麼替她說話？」修遠再次問。

Master Bukong did not look away. “What gives you the right to speak for her?” Xiuyuan demanded again.

風忽然停了。竹林短暫地靜了下來，連方才不斷落下的葉子，也像停在了枝頭。

The wind stopped. The bamboo grove fell briefly silent, and even the leaves that had been falling seemed to pause upon their branches.

過了片刻，不空師父才開口：「誰說我不認識她？」修遠怔住。

After a moment, Master Bukong spoke. “Who said I did not know her?” Xiuyuan froze.

不空師父望向山門外。晨霧已經退到山谷深處，遠方城市的屋頂在薄光裡一層層顯現。「七年前，小艾剛轉到新的學校不久。」修遠的臉色一點點變了。這件事，他從未對眼前的人說過。

The master looked beyond the gate. Morning mist had retreated into the valley, revealing the distant city roofs layer by layer in the thin light. “Seven years ago, Xiao Ai had only recently transferred to a new school.” Xiuyuan’s face slowly changed. He had never told this man.

不空師父轉回來，語氣仍然平穩，卻像一顆石子落入修遠沉寂多年的心湖。「有一天，她想自己走回新家，卻在山下迷了路。」

Master Bukong turned back, his voice still calm, yet the words fell like a stone into the lake of Xiuyuan’s long-silent heart. “One day, she tried to walk home by herself, but became lost below the mountain.”

修遠僵在原處，連呼吸也忘了調整。他腦中忽然閃過一個早已模糊的黃昏：一通陌生來電、自己匆忙離開辦公室的腳步，以及小艾在電話裡努力裝作鎮定的聲音。

Xiuyuan sat rigid, scarcely breathing. A blurred evening flashed through his mind: a call from an unfamiliar number, his hurried steps leaving the office, and Xiao Ai trying to sound brave on the phone.

不空師父靜靜看著他。「那一天——」「那一天，在山下陪她等你、替她聯絡你的人，是我。」

Master Bukong looked quietly at him. “That day—the person who stayed with her below the mountain, waited for you, and contacted you on her behalf—was me.”

敬請期待後續

To be continued.