“郝玉峰”还是“郝雲峰”
——回中国之旅随感之三
2025年5月30日回鹤岗老家永利村的房子里，我又找到几本旧书和日记本。6月4日，我打开封面上画有两只小猫、纸张泛黄的日记时发现，这是我人生的第一本日记。它记载着我从1998年8月29日，第一天到南京神学院，直到1999年6月8日的点点滴滴。之后的10年中，我间断了每日写日记的习惯。2008年来美国后，我又逐渐恢复每日写日记。我的第一本日记本是谁送的呢？日记本的第一页写着：
奖给：
郝玉峰
迷恋于山间艳丽的野花，
就攀不上巍峨的顶峰。
醉心于海滩五彩的贝壳，
就会误了远征的航程。
记住这两句话，勇敢地去追求、去探索，你一定会步入一个新世界。
班主任：刘兴江
1992年1月15日
第二页写着：
转赠：
李春和[1]
谁要是不懂得适应时代的潮流，谁就是时代的失生子。
祝：学业有成
一帆风顺
友：雲峰
我和身边的外甥说：“雲峰是我的好朋友。27年前的夏天，我们在鹤岗市基督教培训班上认识的。在我去南京读书那年，他送给我这个日记本。这个日记本可能是他哥哥郝玉峰的老师奖励他哥哥的，他却将这个日记本转赠给我了”。我若有所思地说。
我接着说，“他很有才。我记得他给我讲过很多基督教文学史上的世界名著，比如《巴黎圣母院》。书中的那个外表丑陋但内心美好的敲钟人克西多摩，被他讲得可形象了”。
外甥说：“这说明他在你生命中产生过一定的影响”。
“是啊。雲峰中专毕业。当时在中国 “中专”不容易考，一般来说中专毕业会保证一份好工作。然而由于家里没钱，他没有拿到毕业证书，所以一直没找到好工作。之后，他得了抑郁症，许多年都呆在家里，他妈妈一直照顾他。唉！也不知道他现在怎么样了？”
“小舅，你为什么不去探访他呢？”外甥建议到。
对啊。我可以想办法找找他。我请姐姐通过教会的姐妹打听到了他的消息：自从他妈妈去世后，他和哥哥住在一起。哥哥对他不太好，可能打过他。他生气犯病了，现在在精神病院里。
恰巧，那所精神病院在我们家附近，而且我的另一位同学宫征鹏是那家病院的护士长。宫征鹏是退伍军人，做事雷厉风行，有爱心、有责任感。更巧的是，在我们全家回到鹤岗的第一天，宫征鹏还专门请我们全家人吃了一顿饭。我急忙打电话找宫征鹏。他说：“我昨晚和病友打了一宿儿麻将。郝雲峰在我这里。没问题，你们来吧。”
下午，我和同工带着一些礼物忐忑地走进精神病院。在我们的印象中，这里应该是一个混乱、不安、甚至有点儿吓人的地方。然而，在宫征鹏的带领下这所病院施行军事化管理，屋里屋外干干净净，每个病人的床铺叠得整整齐齐。宫征鹏介绍说：“我刚来这里工作时，病人都不洗澡。我花很大力度才将这里整顿好。现在，病人每天都主动去洗澡了”。他像对待正常人一样对待这些精神病人，尊重病人，常陪伴病人，甚至愿意将自己的东西与病人分享。
在工作人员的安排下，终于见到郝雲峰。他比从前发福了，但看上去还挺精神。他一眼认出了我。“哎呀，春和，你来看我了。”我给了他一个大大的拥抱。我拿出那个27年前的日记本问道：“你认识这个日记本吗？”他仔细观察自己从前写的字，但怎么也认不出来了。我让他写了几个字，字体风格和日记上的完全一致。我问：“郝玉峰是你哥吗？”他说：“不是。我从前叫郝玉峰，后来改成郝雲峰”。原来郝玉峰和郝雲峰是同一个人！他把老师赠给他的奖品转赠我了。这包含着何等厚重的情谊！
“你还信主吗？”我问他。
“我信。我一定信耶稣。我每天都在祷告！”他说。
这句话给我很大的安慰。我担心他可能早就放弃信仰了，没想到他居然还坚定地跟随着耶稣。
我们聊了一会儿。接着，他带我们去见另一个病人。那个病人正坐在床边认真地读圣经呢。读的是《马太福音》4：1-17耶稣受试探，旁边还有一本《新华字典》。这位病人曾作过脑部手术。我们拉着他们的手流着泪一起祷告，为他们祝福。当我们服侍他们的时候，我们发现他们服侍了我们。
6月6日我到了南京。我的一位同学安排我住在一个宾馆里，工作人员说那是“总统标间”。总统餐厅里的早餐很丰富。在豪华的配备下，我听到餐厅总管在训斥厨师，并和一位阿姨吵架。“你信不信我把你开除了！”总管说。“我不怕你，我又不是你找来的。”阿姨回击说。看来，这么优雅的环境下依然无法除去人内心的罪恶与嫉妒。我姐姐点评说：“精神病院里有人在读经，总统餐厅里有人在吵架。”是啊，在这个纷纷扰扰、尔虞我诈的世界里，精神病院却有着别样的宁静与秩序。“郝玉峰”还是“郝雲峰”，也许主正在用某种奇特的方式时刻守护着他，因为主爱这个属于他的孩子。
[1] 笔者从前叫“春河”，后来改叫“春海”。这里的“和”是“河”的错误拼写。
“Hao Yufeng or Hao Yunfeng?”
— Reflection on My Journey Back to China (Part 3)
On May 30, 2025, I returned to my hometown of Yongli Village in Hegang and found a few old books and notebooks in our old house. On June 4, I opened a diary with two kittens on the cover and yellowed pages, only to discover that it was the very first diary I had ever kept. It recorded bits and pieces of my life from August 29, 1998—the day I arrived at Nanjing Theological Seminary—until June 8, 1999. Over the following decade, I stopped journaling daily. After I came to the United States in 2008, I gradually resumed the habit.
Who gave me that first diary? On the first page, it says:
Awarded to:
Hao Yufeng
If you become obsessed with the wildflowers in the mountain,
you will not reach the majestic summit.
If you are enamored with the colorful shells on the seashore,
you will miss the voyage to faraway lands.
Remember these two sayings. Be brave in your pursuit and exploration,
and you will surely step into a new world.
—Homeroom Teacher: Liu Xingjiang
January 15, 1992
On the second page, it reads:
Passed it on to:
Li Chunhe (my previous name)
He who fails to adapt to the tide of the times will be left behind by them.
Wishing you academic success
and smooth sailing ahead.
—Your friend, Yunfeng
I turned to my nephew and said, “Yunfeng was a good friend of mine. We met 27 years ago at a Christian training program in Hegang. The year I left for Nanjing, he gave me this diary. It may have originally been a reward his brother Hao Yufeng received from a teacher, but Yunfeng gave it to me instead.”
I said thoughtfully, “He was really talented. I remember him telling me about many Christian literary classics, such as The Hunchback of Notre-Dame. He described Quasimodo—the deformed but kind-hearted bell-ringer—so vividly.”
My nephew said, “That means he had some influence on your life.”
“Indeed,” I nodded. “Yunfeng graduated from a vocational school, which was hard to get into in China at the time. It used to guarantee a decent job. But because his family was poor, he didn’t pay to get his diploma and could never land a good job. Later, he developed depression and stayed at home for many years. His mother cared for him all that time. Sigh… I wonder how he’s doing now?”
“Uncle,” my nephew suggested, “why don’t you try to visit him?”
He was right. I asked my sister to inquire through some sister at the church and finally got some news: After his mother passed away, Yunfeng began living with his older brother, who apparently treated him badly and may have even abused him. As a result, he had a mental breakdown and was now living in a psychiatric hospital.
Coincidentally, that hospital was near our home, and one of my former classmates, Gong Zhengpeng, was the head nurse there. Gong, a retired soldier, is known for being decisive, loving, and responsible. As it happened, when our family first returned to Hegang, Gong had invited us to dinner. I called him immediately.
He said, “I played mahjong with the patients all night last night. Hao Yunfeng is here. No problem, you’re welcome to visit.”
That afternoon, some coworkers and I brought gifts and nervously walked into the psychiatric hospital. We expected it to be a chaotic, unsettling, and perhaps frightening place. But under Gong Zhengpeng’s leadership, the hospital was run with military precision—clean and orderly, inside and out. Every bed was neatly made.
“When I first came,” Gong said, “none of the patients bathed. It took a lot of effort to change that. Now, they bathe on their own every day.” He treats the patients with dignity—like normal people. He respects them, spends time with them, and even shares his personal items with them.
With the help of the staff, we finally met Hao Yunfeng. He had gained weight but looked healthy. He recognized me at once: “Hey, Chunhe! You come to visit me!” I gave him a big hug.
I pulled out the diary from 27 years ago and asked, “Do you recognize this?” He studied the handwriting he had written long ago but couldn’t quite remember. I asked him to write a few words, and the style matched exactly.
“Is Hao Yufeng your brother?” I asked.
“No,” he replied, “I used to be Hao Yufeng. I later changed my name to Hao Yunfeng.”
So Hao Yufeng and Hao Yunfeng were the same person all along! He had passed on to me a diary that was originally a prize awarded to him by his teacher. What a deep act of friendship!
I asked him, “Do you still believe in the Lord?”
“I do. I absolutely believe in Jesus. I pray every day!” he replied.
Those words brought me great comfort. I had worried he might have long abandoned his faith, but to my surprise, he was still steadfastly following Jesus.
We talked for a while. Then he took us to meet another patient, who was sitting quietly by his bed, intently reading the Bible—Matthew 4:1–17, about Jesus’ temptation. Beside him was a Xinhua Dictionary. This patient had once undergone brain surgery. We held their hands, shed tears, and prayed together, offering them blessings. In serving them, we realized they were serving us, too.
On June 6, I arrived in Nanjing. A classmate arranged for me to stay in a hotel room the waiter called the “Presidential Suite.” The breakfast at the presidential restaurant was abundant. But even in such a luxurious setting, I overheard the manager scolding a chef and arguing with a cleaning lady.
“Do you believe that I’ll fire you?” the manager yelled.
“I’m not afraid of you—I wasn’t hired by you,” the lady retorted. Clearly, even in such elegant surroundings, human sin and jealousy remain unchecked. My sister commented, “Someone is reading the Bible in a psychiatric hospital, while people are quarreling in a presidential restaurant.” How true. In this chaotic and deceitful world, the psychiatric hospital possessed a strange kind of peace and order.
“Hao Yufeng” or “Hao Yunfeng”? Perhaps the Lord has been guarding him in a mysterious way all along—because the Lord loves this child who belongs to Him.