1
At the end of April, a childhood friend died. He was only thirty-two. The news of his death took many turns before it reached me.
四月底，有位打小一起长大的同学去世了，年仅三十二。他的死讯拐了很多个弯，才传到我这。
They said it was a heart attack. The pain of that death, I imagine, was like Old Wang's years ago—head hitting the wall, fingers scraping the plaster right off.
据说死于心肌梗塞，这种死法的痛苦程度，估计和老王当年一样，头撞墙，直直把墙灰给抓出来。
His name was Zhang Macun. His childhood nickname was a single character: "Egg." We kids often watched TV, played discs, and gamed at Egg Boss's house. Most crucially, his parents were easygoing and rarely disciplined. In a child's world, having such a place to play is a rare treasure.
他叫张马存，乳名单字，“蛋”。同龄的玩伴经常在蛋老板家看电视，看光碟，打游戏。且最关键的是，他父母随和鲜有管教。在人的童年里，有这么一处玩乐地方，总是那么难能可贵。
His courtyard was always open. Two trees in front, a hammock hanging between them year-round. You could just lie in it if you passed by. That was probably the hammock I lay in most as a kid. A few brats squeezed in together, one leg dangling to push off the ground, swinging, never tiring of it.
他家院子敞开着，门前有两棵树，常年挂着一张吊床，路过便可躺下去。那应该是我小时候躺得最多的网床，几个屁孩挤在一起，落一条腿不断蹬地摇晃，乐此不疲。
There was also a hundred-pound stone mill in the yard. When I was eleven, knowing a bit about levers, I challenged the others: a stick of wood could move this mill. No one believed me, so we tried. The wood turned out to be rotten, and the mill couldn't balance on the lever anyway. A dismal failure.
院子里还有一尊上百斤的石磨。我十一岁时知道点杠杆原理，就向其他人发起过挑战：一根木棍可以撬动这个石磨。谁都不信，那就真来了。不料木棍朽坏，而且石磨也架稳不了在杠杆上，就灰溜溜地挫败了一次。
Later, I went to middle school in the county town, came home less, focused on studies, and rarely saw the village kids again. While I was still in the university ivory tower, many of them, including Egg Boss, had been out in society for years. Their usual socializing happened over drinks, at food stalls, in KTVs. I seem naturally insulated from those places.
后来我中学在县城念，少回家，而且心思侧重在学业上，很少再和村里的同伴接触。当我还在大学象牙塔里，包括蛋老板在内很多同伴已在社会混迹多年。他们惯常的交流，通常在酒桌上、大排档中、KTV里，而我似乎天性绝缘娱乐场所。
A few years ago, we ran into each other at a dinner with over a dozen people. He sat diagonally across, still with that familiar look of disdain I remembered. Despite years apart, we didn't greet each other. We finished the meal in a very social, very adult way.
几年前，我俩在十几人的饭局上碰过一次。他坐斜对面，仍是我熟悉的不屑神态。尽管多年未见，却没有相互打招呼，以一种很社会很成年人的方式吃完了饭。
I didn't really know him. Even less the him of later years. But two things are certain. Egg Boss was loyal. That kind of loyalty is common throughout western Guangdong—need someone to show up, need muscle, just a phone call. And pride. Pride in not lowering yourself to flatter power. A man who always stands up.
我并不了解他，更不了解后来的他，但有两点可以确定。蛋老板为人仗义，这种仗义遍布在整个粤西地区里，需要撑场、动手，一个电话的事，以及傲骨。傲骨在不会降低姿态奉承权势，人始终站着。
2
Whenever an old acquaintance is mentioned, it gives me an ominous feeling.
每当故人被提起，总给我一种不详的预感。
I was driving when I heard he died. In the traffic, I recalled his face. His face after death. How they took him home. How his grandparents would curse. How his parents would grieve. How his child would react touching a cold, purplish father. How his kind aunt would receive the news. How far the sharp sound of the suona horn would carry. Cremation or burial. Where in the village graveyard they'd put him.
听到他死讯，我在开着车。在车流间回忆他的样子，他死后的样子，如何送回家，爷爷奶奶如何骂人，爸妈如何悲痛，他孩子触摸到冰冷发紫的爸爸会有什么反应，那个善良姑姑又如何接到这消息，那尖锐的唢呐响得多远，火化还是土葬，葬在村边那片坟场哪个位置。
Then my thoughts diverged. Why does a piece of trivial news decide that someone is, in your memory, simply dead? Those familiar yet distant people—are they dead or alive?
而后我开始发散，为什么一条轻飘飘的消息决定了某个人在你的记忆里就是死掉了呢？那些熟悉又陌生的人们，到底已死还是活着？
Outside my visible world, people's lives and deaths become Schrödinger's cat, in a superposition of states. Similarly, to them, I am too.
在我不可见的世界之外，人们的生死，俨然成了薛定谔的猫，处于生死叠加态。同样，我对他们而言，亦是如此。
People often think the line between life and death is only approached in near-death moments. I now think there is no line. They are mixed together.
人们常常觉得在濒死之际，才是生死一线之隔。而我现在认为，生死没有一线之隔，而是混为一体。
As we all know, with the protection of the immune system and modern medicine, people don't die easily. It seems we can rest easy, no need to live cautiously. We see ourselves this way, and we see the outside world and people the same way.
众所周知，人体免疫系统和现代医疗系统的防护下，人并不会轻易死掉，似乎为此我们大可放心，而不必小心翼翼地生活。我们这样看自己，也同样可以看外面的世界和人。
This is blindness. The truth is, all sorts of risks in life can still easily take a person. In the visible world, a person alive is alive. It seems clear, but it's not. Internal risks may be accumulating unseen. One moment lively, the next, gone. Secondly, in the invisible world, whether that person is alive or dead, whether taken by some virus or accident, is equally uncertain. Life and death are completely ambiguous.
这是一种盲目。事实是，生活中各式各样的风险仍可轻易取人性命。在可见世界里，人活着是活着，似乎并不模糊，实则也不然，内部潜在风险可能已在累积而无法看见，上一秒还活泼乱跳，下一秒可能一命呼呼。其次，在不可见世界，那人是生是死，会不会被某种病毒或者意外所夺命，同样不确定，生死完全模棱两可。
Minds tend toward fixed patterns. Alive today means alive tomorrow, next year. Not important now, talk next time, there's still a chance. Plenty of time, no hurry. Yet, the accident may arrive before tomorrow. Time passes, one day less, consumed irreversibly.
人的思维往往有定式。今天活着，意味明天也会活着，明年还在；现在不重要，下次再说，还有机会；有的是时间，不用着急。然而，意外可能比明天更先抵达，时间过一天少一天，不可逆反地消耗。
Unless you admit the instability of existence.
除非承认存在的不稳定性。
I'm approaching thirty-two now. Before thirty, time always felt abundant. Things done poorly could be started over. Wrong doors, turn back. Wrong paths, correct course.
我如今渐近三十二，三十岁以前总感觉时间非常充裕。做不好的事情可以重头开始，走错的门再折出来，踏错的路再调头改正。
From a growth perspective, that mindset is good. People make mistakes; what matters is correction. But it still has a time cost. Everything is built on time. Time that only decreases, never increases.
从成长角度看，这种心态是好的，毕竟人难免出错，重要的是改正。可这照样有时间成本，一切事情均架构在时间之上，消耗只会少不会增多的时间。
I did a rough calculation the other day. If I live to eighty, my life progress bar has already reached 40%. The universe hasn't shorted me a second, not a sliver. We often sigh that a few hundred dollars doesn't last. My thirty-two years are the same.
那天粗略算一把，倘若我能活到八十岁，那我的人生进度条已然抵达40%的位置。宇宙没有给少我一分一毫时间，没少一星半点。我们常常感慨，千百块钱并没有很耐花，我的32年同样如此。
Considering bodily functions start to fail after sixty, becoming unreliable, then the time of energetic vigor is only thirty years. 35% of usable time. In the time left, a mass of unimportant things will still eat away at precious time—low-value labor, meaningless socializing, uncuttable rest, irreducible livelihood efforts... Not to mention I might not even make it to eighty?!
考虑六十岁以后身体机能开始歇菜、力不从心，那么精力充沛的时间也就只有三十年，35%的可用时间。往后的时间里，仍有大量不重要的事情蚕食宝贵时间，没有价值的低端劳动、无意义的社交、无法裁剪的休息、不能缩减的谋生付出......更何况我不一定能活到八十？！
For life, time is never abundant. It is the eternal scarce commodity.
对生命而言，时间从来不会充足，它是永恒的稀缺品。
3
Later in the recollection, my thoughts ran dry, nowhere to go. My interactions with Egg Boss were few to begin with, and the past is already distant.
回忆到后面，思绪开始匮乏无处可去。我和蛋老板的交往本来就少，而过去的事情已然远去。
So I looked through his old QQ Space. Over five hundred photos, mostly from 2010 to 2020. Brothers, drink tables, KTV, seafood, the ocean, the countryside. Just as I knew. When he was shirtless, drinking with his brothers, bragging, telling stories, arms around them singing drunkenly in a daze, I think he was truly happy—the highlights of his short life.
于是我翻了他以前的qq空间，五百多张照片，大多是10年至20年之间。兄弟、酒桌、KTV、海鲜、大海、乡下，正如我所知道的那般。当他光着膀子和他的兄弟们劈酒、吹牛皮、讲故事，在酒精的迷离中搂着兄弟乱舞高歌，我想他是真的开心——他短暂一生的高光。
The last post on his QQ Space was in 2017. He sighed: "Things have really changed a lot now, the world has changed too. Annoying, annoying, annoying."
qq空间最后一条帖子，是2017年，他感慨道：“现在真的变了很多，世界也变了，烦烦烦。”
Beyond that, nothing of value.
除此以外，没有其他有价值的信息。
The day I was reminiscing, I had an electronic track on repeat: to be lonely when happy. The melody is good. The artist is "Never Using NetEase Cloud Again." My thoughts drifted. I wishfully imagined this track was created by Egg Boss, trying to express something.
回忆的这天，我循环播放一首电音，《to be lonely when happy》。旋律很好，作者是“再也不玩网易云了”。我思绪飘飞，一厢情愿把这首曲当成蛋老板所创作，想表达些什么。
When someone dies, I always want to see their view of life before death. Conversely, if I die, I hope others look at what I left behind. If it brings a little value, that would be gratifying.
一个人死了，我总想看看他生前对生活的看法。反过来，若我死掉，我希望别人看看我生前留下的内容，如果能带来一点价值，就很令人欣慰。
BBC's Blue Planet II recorded it. A massive whale dies, its falling corpse nourishes a small patch of sea life. So-called "whale fall,万物生." That's value.
BBC《蓝色星球2》有记录，巨大的鲸鱼死后，坠落的遗体会养活一小片海域的生物，所谓一鲸落万物生，这就是价值。
What we leave behind is often food, travel photos, emotional expressions. Rarely insightful truths that bring inspiration, expressions and actions that show a unique attitude toward life.
而我们留下的，往往是美食、旅拍、情绪表达，鲜有能带来启发的真知灼见、表明独特人生态度的表达和行为。
Perhaps this is my personal hang-up. I always feel a person should leave something. Yet, we are all too ordinary. Most lives are unremarkable, not worth recording, and won't be.
这或许是我个人的情节，总觉得人应该留点什么。然而，我们都太普通，大多数平平无奇的人生，不值得也不会被记录。
They say over a hundred billion humans have lived on Earth. Let's generously say a hundred thousand made it into history. In other words, 99.999999% of people have completely vanished into the river of time. Egg Boss didn't create that electronic track. He left no inspiration. He and I, ordinary folks like us, won't be known beyond three generations.
据说，已有一千多亿的人类在地球上生活过，在这里面能名留青史者姑且算十万，换言之，99.999999%的人算是彻底消失在时间长河里。蛋老板没有创作那首电音，他也没留下什么启发，他和我这等普通人，往后三代就不会有人知道。
Think further. What does making history matter? For the person involved, they're dead. We always imagine going to another world after death, like heaven. Looking down, seeing your fame spread in the world, the world better for your existence, would be gratifying. Very satisfied with having existed.
再往前想，名留青史又如何，对于当事人而言，他已死。我们总以为死后去到另一个世界，比如天上。若俯瞰到自己的名声在世间流传，世界因自己而变得美好，会甚感欣慰，很满意曾经的存在。
Maybe. I tend to think dying is complete disappearance. Gratification and satisfaction are only possible while alive.
可能吧。我倾向认为，死去是彻底消失，欣慰和满意只能在人活着。
Thinking of this, then thinking of these thirty-plus years of life. I think I've already experienced and understood, in the common sense, what life actually is. Full of massive trivialities, unimportant yet constituting the details of existence. Patterns and probabilities everywhere, governing the evolution of events. Instinct, pressure, desire, emotion, consciousness running through it all. Inside a biological shell, receiving all sorts of fleeting sensations. Owning nothing. Finally vanishing without a sound.
想到这，再想想这三十多年的生活。我想我已经切身体会并理解，通俗意义上的人生到底是什么。充斥着大量琐碎，不重要且构成存在细节，规律和概率无处不在支配着事件的演变，本能、压力、欲望、情感、意识贯穿前后，隔着生物外壳，接受各式各样转瞬即逝的感受流动，不拥有任何，最后无声无息湮灭。
Now, the love of life and the weight of death mix in my heart. I'm beginning to understand: the heaviness of death and the love for life are the same thing. That is, not feeling death's weight is equivalent to not loving life. Conversely, holding love for life necessarily means feeling death's weight.
此时，生之爱和死之重，混在心里。我开始理解了，死亡的沉重和对生的热爱，是同一件事。也就是，不觉死的沉重，等价于对生并不热爱，反之，对生秉持热爱，就必然对死感到沉重。
Aware of life, and aware of death. This peculiar feeling started in my twenties. I suppose it will extend to the end of my life.
意识到生，又意识到死，这奇特的感受从我二十来岁开始，想必也会延伸到我生命的终点。
4
I don't know where Egg Boss is buried. In my imagination, I'm probably sitting on the sandy soil of a grave.
不知道蛋老板安葬在哪，想象中，我应该是坐在坟墓的沙地上。
Those hundreds of acres of fields must be planted with spring rice, faint waves of green visible. It's cool under this tree, but the field path is scorched by the May sun. Better walk fast if barefoot.
那几百亩的田野肯定种满了春季的水稻，青涩的波浪微微可见。这树下阴凉，倒是田间小路被五月的太阳晒得发烫，光脚要走快点。
The damned May weather often brings rain. If it rains, the water from the artesian well will be icy, not good for swimming. Better if it's sunny. Pile up mud blocks, turn the artesian well into a swimming pool. Could play for half a day.
五月的鬼天气多少会下雨的。如果下的话，那口自流井的水会很冰凉，不宜下水。最好还是晴天，用泥块堆起来，把自流井蓄成游泳池，就能玩半天。
The lotuses probably aren't blooming yet. Tilapia will definitely be there. Could dig a small bucket of earthworms under cow dung too, though usually can't find kite string or fishhooks. Fishhooks were hard to buy anyway; you needed the town.
荷花估计还没盛开，罗飞鱼肯定会有。牛粪下也能挖到一小桶蚯蚓，不过通常找不到风筝线和鱼钩。本来就不好买鱼钩，它得镇上才有。
If in high spirits, go see the coast. If the tide happens to be out, golden sand appears. Can pick up some clams and pretty shells. Build some sand mounds.
兴致高的话去海岸边看看，若恰好退了潮，金色沙滩浮现，能捡到一点花甲和漂亮的贝壳，堆点沙丘。
Forget it. Best go to the shrimp pond ditch. Jump from the tree into the ditch. Branches shaking, heart trembling, feet shaking. Egg Boss was heavier than me, made a bigger splash. After bathing, can go back, watch some TV, lie in the hammock, turn the music up loud...
算了，去虾塘沟最好。从树上往河沟里跳，树摇枝晃，心颤脚抖。蛋老板比我重，水花要大很多。洗完澡还能回去看会电视，躺会吊床，音乐调大声一点......
Happens in May. And will never happen in May again.
在五月发生，也永远不会再在五月发生。
Egg Boss remains in April. I am in May.
蛋老板留在四月里，我在五月。
Bright June waits ahead.
明亮的六月在那等着。