Part 45 •「習慣沉默以後」 Gao Zhisheng Series 高智晟連載 ⸻ 有一天，我突然發現，我已經很久沒有開口說話了。 我不是不能說，而是不想說。語言成了危險的東西，每一個詞都可能被當成證據，被記錄，被曲解。我只能學會和自己說話，在心裏小聲地說，慢慢地說。 牆上那盞燈還亮著，但我知道那只是表面的光。這裡面真正的黑暗，是靜默，是你說出話來卻不再有意義的時候。 我曾經無數次地問過自己——如果我就這麼沉默下去，是不是也算是一種死亡？ 但心裏總有一個聲音： 不，沉默不是死亡，只要你還記得你為什麼選擇沉默。 有時候，沉默是對謊言最大的反抗。 有時候，不說一句話，反而能讓真相更響亮。 那晚，我在黑暗中閉上眼睛，試圖想像我女兒的聲音。我想像她在門口喊：「爸爸，你回來了嗎？」我沒開口，只是眼角濕了。 他們不能奪走我的記憶，也無法奪走我內心的光。 因為我還知道自己是誰—— 我是高智晟。 我還活著。 ⸻ Part 45• “After Silence Becomes a Habit” Gao Zhisheng Series ⸻ One day, I realized—I hadn’t spoken in a long time. Not because I couldn’t, but because I no longer wanted to. Speech had become dangerous. Every word was a trap—recorded, twisted, turned against me. So I learned to speak only to myself—in whispers, in slow, cautious thoughts. The light on the wall was still on, but I knew it wasn’t real. The true darkness was this: when words no longer mattered. Many times I asked myself—if I stayed silent forever, would that be a kind of death? But inside, a voice replied: No. Silence is not death, as long as you remember why you chose it. Sometimes, silence is the strongest protest against lies. Sometimes, saying nothing makes the truth louder. That night, I closed my eyes and imagined my daughter’s voice, standing at the door, calling softly: “Daddy, are you back?” I didn’t answer. My lips stayed still. But tears slipped down my face. They couldn’t take my memories. They couldn’t take the light I held within. Because I still knew who I was— I am Gao Zhisheng. And I am still alive.