我是在《再见山庄》中“新农村图象”里所提及的美陂村初识子人的，那就从美陂镇说起吧。

　　据说那曾繁华之地，从街道、两边商铺规模和清一色鹅卵石铺就的街道看，是可能的，眼下则完全廖落了。清晨之时街上几乎没什么人。我所住的小学与从前的旧址相距不远，那是在一小街拐弯处的院子里，院门已封死，围墙丈高，长了荒草，人说屋子是危房，呆不得人，几年前就拆了。

　　被拆了的小学曾是苏维埃政府所在地，办过半年的公，斑驳的院墙隐约可见当时的标语，那时革命者可真是写得一手好字。苏维埃政府之前呢，人说是“万寿宫”，就是各路香客之“游乐场”，这点现在是全然看不出来了，仅从院门右侧的一偶可揣摩一二。那是一块嵌入墙内的青石板，类似门牌，板上刻满了人名商号，算来有四十来“单位”和“个人”吧，名号侧记录所捐出的钱款数额，即现时的“赞助费”，以“吊”为单位，少则二十吊，多则五百吊，用以兴建佛寺廂堂，寺廂附近盖有楼房，说是进香人的歇脚处，歇脚，便各有各的歇法，“万寿宫”也许由此得名。

　　老屋，旧街，古寺，败墙，等等，是我唯一可以直观和触摸的东西，别的只能靠“据说”了，离开“据说”，便离开“历史”的一部分，我们只剩“直观”了，而离开“直观”，就是说如果我没来此地，那些“据说”便和我没有任何关系，以至不存在似的。都说现代人生活在历史中，想来这多半是错觉。人和历史的关系十分微弱，微若浮尘，弱如远风，以至当我们与之脱节时，常常是茫然不知的。

　　幸而人有经历，有记忆，这便使人可能获得消逝了的“直观”，而只有拥有历史和现实这双重“直观”的人，才可能触及事物的深层，如果事物果然有“深层”的话。“人不能两次进入同一条河”，是就时间而言的。以时间而言，逝者如斯，往事无返，唯经历者方有如此感慨，换言之，只有两次进入那条河的时候，才发现那不再是同样的河，才感到“河流”，感到“岁月”和“消逝”，尤为有趣的是，才感到同一事物在不同时间所呈现的不同的面貌，因而有了某种智慧的发端。

　　如若以空间讲呢，空间不会增多也不会减少，我们不仅可以两次，还可以多次进入同样的空间，同样的“河流”。眼前这条街道，曾人群熈攘，商贾香客云集，现在萧条廖落，日寂如夜，以后呢，也许复又繁华如昨或胜于昨，谁知道呢，我所知道的是，同样的空间，古往今来发生了无数事件，或平凡琐碎，或惊世重大，总之已经发生过，并且正在发生和将要发生很多事，它们可能和我们无关，也可能和我们有关或将有某种冥冥之契。

　　《再见山庄》是回忆性的文字。回忆，就是两次踏入一条河吧，所以，以其说是再见“山庄”，不如说是再见昔日作者的自己。主客交融，若即若离，写得温润恬和，情理并茂，笔端饱含着对少年时光的缅怀，读着读着，便不由地想到自己相似的往事。人的经验是有意思的，犹如酿酒，愈酿愈醇，愈久愈美，愈美愈可能与原料无关。记忆是个化工厂。我不知是我们在左右着记忆呢，还是记忆左右着我们。《再见山庄》的“再见”，二字也好，既是“重见”、“重逢”，又是“告别”“约定”，多层涵义集于四字，意味深远。我不知子人何时再见山庄，只一点却是无疑的，那就是，山庄，记忆里的山庄，是子人艺术创作的涓涓源泉。

　　Meibei Village, under LEI Ziren's Brush

　　By CAO Liwei

　　Translated by ZHANG Ling （张凌译）

　　It was in Meibei Village of Jiangxi Province, a place mentioned in the "New Rural Images" in the book Farewell the Village, that I got to know Mr. LEI Ziren, so it might be a good idea to start from here.

　　It is said that Meibei was once a prosperous place. Well, it could be if you take a look at the street, the size and number of shops on both sides, and the cobblestone paved street, yet it does not look like a prosperous place at all now. Few people can be seen on the street in the early morning. The primary school where I lived was not far from the old site of the village, which was located in a courtyard around the corner of a small street, behind a tightly blocked gate and a wall of about 3 meters high. Much wild grass grew in the court, and the houses, according to local people, were dilapidated buildings and unsuitable to live in, which had been demolished a few years ago.

　　The primary school that was demolished were once the location for the local Soviet government, used as offices for half a year. Some slogans from that period were still vaguely identifiable on the pied wall. The revolutionaries were good at calligraphy! Well, how about before the Soviet government? Some said it was "Longevity Palace", which was the "fun fair" of the pilgrims from different parts of the country, which had left no traces now, except for something that could be found at the corner on the right side of the court gate: It was black stone plate embedded in the wall, like a doorplate, inscribed with names of people and firms, altogether about 40 in number. Beside the names were numbers showing the amount of money donated, in the then monetary unit of "diao", or strings of coins, ranging from 20 diao to 500 diao, which were used do build Buddhist Temples and courts. Nearby were some buildings for pilgrims to have a rest. Well, there were different ways to rest, and maybe that is the origin of the name "Longevity Palace".

　　Old houses, worn streets, ancient temples, dilapidated walls… these are the only things I could see with my eyes and touch with my hands; apart from these, I had to resort to stories that people told me, without which a part of "history" was lost too and only "naked-eye observation" remained; without "naked-eye observation", however, meant that if I had not come here, those stories were irrelevant to me, or even non-existing to me. Now we always say that modern people live in history - an illusion only. The relationship between human and history had been a very weak one, as light as a piece of tiny dust, as feeble as wind blowing afar, so much so that we were often ignorant of it when we disconnected with it.

　　Luckily humans are blessed with experiences and memories, with which regaining the past "naked-eye observation" becomes possible. Only those who possess the dual "naked-eye observation" of history and reality can possibly reach the deeper part of things, if things have the "deeper part". No man ever steps in the same river twice; well, this is true in terms of time. In terms of time, the past is past, and can never come back. Only the one who personally experiences may truly understand its meaning and may sigh with emotions; in other words, only when one steps in the same river for the second time can he or she find that is no longer the same river, that he better feels the "river", the time, and the passing of time and interestingly, can he or she feel the different appearances of the same thing in different times, so that he or she is inspired with some kind of wisdom.

　　In terms of space, however, space does not grow, nor decrease. We could enter the same space twice, or many times, the same "river". The street before my eyes used to be prosperous and crowded with business people from everywhere, but now it was so desolate and sparse, and as quiet as the night during daytime. But who knows whether it would be as prosperous as it once were or even more so in the future? What I knew was this: There had been numerous events from the ancient past to today, some of which were small and trifle, some big and important. Anyhow, what had happened in the past and is happening or is going to happen may be irrelevant to us, or they may be related to us in some mysterious way.

　　Farewell My Village is recollection of the past. Memory could be interpreted as stepping to the river for the second time, so it is seeing again the author himself of the past rather than saying goodbye to the village. The subject and the object intermingle with each other, maintaining some distance in between too. It was mildly toned, with emotions and thinking. His writing is full of memory of the young teenager's time, and when I read it, I cannot help recalling some similar experiences. Human experiences are very interesting in that it is like the process of making wine - the longer the process, the better it tastes, and the better it tastes, the more likely it is not related to the raw materials. Memory is a chemical plant. I do not know whether we decides memory, or memory decides us. The word "farewell" in Farewell My Village is well-used, indicating "saying goodbye", "making apporintment", as well as a wish to "see again" or "meet again", so a rich meaning is suggested by the title of the book. I do not know when LEI would see the village again, but I do know one thing for sure - the village, the village in memory, is the ever lasting spring for LEI's art creation.

作者：曹立伟