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那一天,我见到了一位老人。花白的头发,富有学者气息的长袍。呼啸的狂风不能使之折腰,噼啪作响的火焰也不能使之颤抖。在这一半海水一半火焰的天堂与地狱交界处,他手持一本古卷,神情如同在帝王的宫殿里一样闲适。腰杆笔直,风骨自成。我好像见过这位老者,但我不记得他的名字。听到脚步声,他抬起头来看我。一双乐观热情又富有求知欲的眼睛瞬间冲散了地狱的阴霾,让他拥有了与恶魔对视的资格。他看着我,轻
That day, I met an old man. Gorgeous white hair, scholarly robes. The whistling wind can not bend it, the crackling fire can not make it tremble. At the junction of heaven and hell, half the sea of flames, he held a scroll that looked as though he was as free as he was in the imperial palace. Rectum straight, the natural bone. I seem to have seen this old man, but I do not remember his name. Hearing his footsteps, he looked up at me. A pair of optimistic enthusiasm and curiosity of the eyes instantly split the haze of hell, so he has the qualifications of the devil against the visual. He looked at me, light