“死亡是可以管理的。”这句貌似狂妄的话,不像是出自谦虚谨慎、以凡人自居的郁亮之口在登顶珠峰的那一刻,郁亮的情绪失控了。他拿着女儿的照片,眼睛红了,但忍着没哭出来。云海在脚下变幻,天空蓝得没有一丝杂质,8848米高处的宁静中有神秘的禅意。而离他几百米外,就有一些不知姓名的遇难者的尸体。那时那地,生、死都很玄妙。“万一哭了,眼泪会变成冰,这是在消耗力气。”郁亮说,“我要活着同来,每一份力气都用在同来这件事情上。” “Death is manageable.” The seemingly arrogant remark does not seem to come from humility and cautiousness. The moment when Yu-liang, a mortal man in his own right, climbed Mount Everest, Yu Liang’s mood was out of control. He took his daughter’s picture, his eyes red, but did not endure crying out. Sea of ​​clouds at the foot of change, the sky was blue without a trace of impurities, 8848 meters in the quiet of the mysterious Zen. A few hundred meters away from him, there are some unidentified victims of the body. That time, life and death are very mysterious. “If crying, the tears will become ice, which is in the effort. ” Yu Liang said, “I want to live together, every effort is used in the same matter. ”