黄华
2025年10月22日
今天，我们在这里，送别万润南先生。
对我而言，他不是朋友，也不是同事。我们从未谋面，也未曾通信。或许，他甚至不知道我的名字。但在我心里，他却像是一位久违的知音——在浩茫人海中，从未相遇，却早已相知。
今年，在伦敦的纪念六四研讨会上，我发表了题为《坚持和平理性非暴力的原则，推动中国走向民主、自由、法治、人权的强大繁荣国家》的发言。潘永忠先生对我说：“你的观点和老万是一致的。”那一刻，我心头一震——原来我们在遥远的两端，却看着同一个方向。我暗想，也许该去见见老万，当面请教、倾心交谈。没想到，他竟已病重。那未能谋面的一次对话，成了我余生的遗憾。
知音难觅，天涯咫尺。
万润南先生的一生，是一段中国知识分子从理想到流亡、从风华到孤旅的见证。他出身名校，投身科技与企业，是那个时代改革的象征。然而，当国家的命运滑向专制与压抑，他没有随波逐流，而是选择了说真话——哪怕代价是自由、故土与安宁。
我也是一个流亡者。多年来漂泊海外，眼看中国的梦一次次破碎。每当听到“自由”“尊严”“公义”这些词，我就会想到他——那种不屈不怒，却始终不肯沉默的声音。他让我明白，良知并非口号，而是一种即使在绝望中仍然坚持的信念。
他离开中国三十多年，却始终没有离开“中国”这个主题。他写作、思考、发声，用理性和温度守护着自由的火种。他不喊口号，却句句诚实；不带仇恨，却满怀忧思。这样的灵魂，才配得上“公共知识分子”这四个字。
在这个时代，说真话依然危险，做自由人依然艰难。有人或许会问：这样的坚持还有意义吗？我相信，万润南先生会微笑着回答——“有意义。”因为我们不能让恐惧夺走灵魂，不能让谎言抹去记忆。每一个仍然敢于发出良心之声的中国人，都是他精神的延续。
我从未见过他，却感受到他那种温和而坚定的力量。那是一种不求功名、不图回报，只为对得起良心的力量。
他的一生，也许孤独，却不寂寞；也许失败，却不被遗忘。
先生已远行，但他留给我们的，不仅是一段历史，更是一种姿态——
面对权力，仍敢于说“不”；
身在流亡，仍不忘“回望”。
今天，让我们以沉默致敬，也以行动纪念。愿先生安息于自由的土地，愿他生前渴望的那片自由天空，终有一日照耀在中国的大地之上。
A Kindred Spirit Across Time and Distance — In Memory of Mr. Wan Runnan
By Huang Hua
October 22, 2025
Today, we gather to bid farewell to Mr. Wan Runnan.
To me, he was neither a friend nor a colleague. We never met, nor exchanged letters. Perhaps, he never even knew my name. Yet in my heart, he has always felt like a kindred spirit — someone I have never encountered in person, but with whom I’ve long shared a silent understanding across the vastness of the world.
Earlier this year, at the London Forum in Commemoration of June Fourth, I delivered a speech titled “Upholding the Principles of Peace, Rationality, and Non-Violence to Build a Democratic, Free, Law-Governed, and Human-Rights-Based China.”
Afterward, Mr. Pan Yongzhong said to me: “Your views are exactly the same as Lao Wan’s.”
At that moment, my heart trembled — realizing that, though we stood at opposite ends of the earth, we were gazing toward the same horizon. I thought to myself, perhaps I should find a way to meet him in person — to seek his wisdom, to speak heart to heart.
But before I could, he had already fallen gravely ill. That unspoken conversation will remain one of my lifelong regrets.
“True kindred spirits are rare — even when separated by oceans, they feel as close as a whisper.”
Mr. Wan’s life embodied the journey of a generation of Chinese intellectuals — from idealism to exile, from brilliance to solitude.
He was a graduate of a prestigious university, a pioneer in technology and enterprise, a symbol of reform in his time. Yet, when the nation began to descend into repression and authoritarianism, he refused to remain silent. He chose to speak the truth — even when the price was his freedom, his homeland, and his peace.
I, too, am a person in exile. Over the years, as I’ve drifted far from home, I’ve watched China’s dreams shatter again and again. Whenever I hear words like freedom, dignity, and justice, I think of him — of that calm yet unyielding voice that would not submit to despair or silence.
He taught me that conscience is not a slogan; it is a belief that endures, even in the face of hopelessness.
Though he left China more than thirty years ago, he never left the idea of “China.” Through his writing, reflection, and advocacy, he nurtured the fragile flame of freedom with both reason and compassion. He did not shout slogans, but every word he spoke was honest. He carried no hatred, yet his heart was heavy with concern. Such a spirit truly deserves the title of public intellectual.
In our time, to tell the truth is still dangerous; to live freely is still difficult. Some may ask: Is such perseverance still meaningful?
I believe Mr. Wan would smile and say, “Yes, it is.”
Because we must not let fear steal our souls, nor let lies erase our memories. Every Chinese person who still dares to speak from conscience is a continuation of his spirit.
I never met him, yet I feel his gentle, steadfast strength — a strength that seeks no fame, no reward, only to remain true to conscience.
His life may have been lonely, but it was never empty;
It may have seemed a failure, but it will never be forgotten.
Mr. Wan has departed, but what he left us is more than history — it is an attitude toward life itself:
To face power, yet still dare to say “No.”
To live in exile, yet still dare to look back.
Today, let us honour him with silence — and remember him through action.
May he rest in peace upon the soil of freedom.
And may the free sky he longed for one day shine over the land of China.
