Chapter 32 Don't wait for the flowers to fall into nothing
Song Yanqing turned his head and looked over, and sure enough, there was a young monk squatting there holding a copper plate from inside.
The bronze bell on the mountain rang over and over again, and the thick Sanskrit sounds seemed to fall from the sky. Everything became majestic and holy with the morning dew, but the little monk looked as if he had seen the money secretly.
Seeing the two people approaching, he slowly put the copper plate into his sleeves, clasped his hands together, and put on a jade image of the Buddha who is compassionate and helps save all sentient beings. He said with kind eyes: "Two little donors, I want to burn incense.
?Or do you want to worship Buddha?"
Song Yanqing wanted to return the greeting, but when he saw Chu Shouzi turning his eyes and ignoring him, he went straight up the steps. In his doubts, he forgot about the courtesy. As soon as he took a step up, he was stopped by the young monk.
"Donor, stay here." The young monk still looked like he was letting the birds fly. He took out a green lotus tube from behind and shook it. "Since the benefactor is here, just draw a lot. I, the Buddha, am merciful and will definitely be able to help you."
Give me some pointers."
Song Yanqing looked at the young monk with sugar cake dregs remaining at the corner of his mouth, and thought of Chu Shou who was climbing up the steps. He suddenly became interested, leaned on the white stone railing, and asked: "There is a big Buddha on the mountain, why do I need to come to you?"
Please sign?"
The young monk smiled so hard that he narrowed his eyes and said calmly: "Everyone worships the Big Buddha. I have long been tired of the Big Buddha. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. You, poor monk, are the only ones here. If you fail, you will lose three."
The young monk spoke sincerely and his eyes were clear and clear, but it was difficult to refuse.
Song Yanqing curled up into a smile, nodded and said, "Well, it's not a loss."
"Amitabha, may I ask, what does the donor ask for?" The young monk looked at Song Yanqing's clothes and continued to ask: "Official luck? Financial luck? Or...marriage?"
"Official luck and financial fortune are all controlled by oneself. As for marriage..." Song Yanqing said, looking up at Chu Shou resting on the stairs with his knees up, a trace of loneliness flashed in his eyes, "As for marriage, Jin is not,
It’s not like retreating.”
The young monk smiled again, got his answer, and began to shake the green bamboo stick bucket. Soon a bamboo stick was shaken to the ground. He leaned over to pick it up, blowing off the dust attached to it, and his
He glanced at the small words above and smiled knowingly.
"The marriage the benefactor sought was a lot."
Song Yanqing was startled and murmured: "Let me sign..."
So...is it right to push away? But why is he feeling so sad?
He laughed and touched the place next to his heart. It was obviously injured. Do you like it so much?
"As the saying goes: You must break off the flowers when they are ready; don't wait until the flowers are empty and break the branches." The young monk said, licking the sugar cake from the corner of his mouth, clasping his hands and bowing in worship, and then said: "When a thought is raised, thousands of rivers and mountains are created; when a thought is extinguished, the world is changed.
Suffering is not suffering, happiness is not happiness..."
"Bitterness is not suffering? Pleasure is not joy? What's the next sentence?" Chu Shou crossed his arms and walked down one step at a time, looking at the young monk.
"Uh..." The young monk hesitated for a few times, then took out a small booklet from his arms with a smile. There were densely written small words on it, and the handwriting was a bit sloppy. He put the booklet in front of his eyes, raised his hand to flip through a few pages, and finally found it.
, shook his head and continued: "Suffering is not suffering, happiness is not happiness. If the donor clings to one thought, he will be trapped in that thought; if he lets go of one thought, he will be at ease in his heart..."
"Amitabha." He finished reciting it loudly, feeling very satisfied and clasping his hands together in worship.
Chu Shou snorted, stood a few steps in front of Song Yan, put his hands on his hips, and said, "Huiyuan, you are used to bluffing and deceiving, why haven't you memorized it yet?"
Huiyuan squinted, shook his head, and responded: "The poor monk has a Buddha in his heart, and there is no room for others."
Chu Shou smiled lowly, turned around and said nothing. He just grabbed Song Yanqing's hand and climbed up the steps again.
"Two donors!"
The two of them turned around and looked at Huiyuan who shouted to stop, with puzzled eyes.
Huiyuan slowly raised his hand, held up three fingers, and said with a smile: "One sign is three copper coins, this is a small business, and there is no credit."
Song Yanqing smiled, took out the coins, and threw them over. Huiyuan caught them all in the palm of his hand and placed them safely in his arms along with the coins he had just stolen.
Chu Shou pulled back the hand on his wrist and said angrily: "Why did you really give it to him? He talks the same way to each other, and only says a few words back and forth."
"What he said is reasonable and very pleasant." Song Yanqing turned around and looked at Chu Shou with a smile. Chu Shou was stunned and looked at him smiling, as if the figure in Hanyuan had flashed by and returned.
Similar.
Song Yanqing turned her wrist, held the little hand holding him in her palm, walked up with great energy, and said in a brisk tone: "Let's go and worship Buddha."
Chu Shou looked at him holding his hand tightly and followed his footsteps step by step in a daze, "Don't you never believe in Buddhism?"
"Why are you eavesdropping on other people's conversations?" Song Yanqing retorted with a smile.
Chu Shou took two steps in one step, and grabbed his wrist with the other hand. He turned sideways and looked into his dark eyes. He stared at him and explained tightly, but with a round smile on his lips, he said: "I don't... I'm very...
Respect your…”
"Really?"
"It's true! Ah Zhi! I am the most good man in the world..."
@
"First, I wish that all the hardships will be over and be rewarded with joy; second, I wish that all the things I wish for will be achieved; third, I wish that the people I care about will always be in good health and have no worries every year."
Song Yanqing knelt respectfully on the futon, clasped his hands together, and after finishing his words in his mind, he slowly opened his eyes.
He looked up at the majestic and solemn Buddha, and felt as if he was looking up to the sky. The Buddha showed his kind face, his eyebrows were half-curved, and his kind eyes were slightly closed, looking at all living beings.
The giant Buddha sits in the hall, three feet high and resplendent with gold and green. The statues on both sides have different postures and are all lifelike.
The lamps in front of the Buddha are dotted with stars, and the incense is very strong. The wonderful fragrance spreads widely, eliminating ignorance and delusion, breaking through the darkness and resolving confusion. When I look at the Buddha again, I can't help but feel solemn.
Chu Shou did not enter the main hall, but waited outside. There was a green-eyed black cat lying in the corner outside, and another one with a yellow belly and a white belly slipped directly into the main hall from her hand, lying on the futon and lazily licking its paws.
The young monk on the side stared at Chu Shou's every move. He didn't know why, but the first temple rule the abbot told him on the first day he entered the temple was "Princess Ruchuan is prohibited from entering the main hall."
This thing must be blamed on that monster monk Huiyuan. Chu Shou was deceived by him before and believed in him, saying that there was an ancient black iron Buddha head on the third level of the mountain. If Huiyuan hadn't caught him and was obsessed with ancient classics,
, they would not go into the third-level forbidden area of Fodu Temple with him overnight, and they would not be boycotted by all the monks in the temple to such an extent - "Princess Liuchuan has been coveting the Buddha's head for a long time."
Song Yan stood up, stretched out his hand to insert the burning incense into the incense burner, stood with his hands folded, and looked out the door. Chu Shou was squatting and playing with the cat. He raised his head and said something to the young monk. The cat ran away, and the young monk also left.
There was a sound of cat meowing next to me, and I saw the little golden tiger with its tail raised, its back arched, and then it ran out of the hall again.
A man walked out from behind the giant Buddha, with white jade beads wrapped around his wrist. Each one was round and clear. Zhao Wuji, with his hair down and plain clothes, put his hands together and prayed: "Master Song, you are well."
It’s this phrase again, “It’s all right.”
Song Yanqing turned around and saw the Buddhist beads wrapped around his hand. His eyes darkened again and again. After a long time, he stopped laughing. He turned to look at the man who was sitting obediently on the threshold again, but his eyes turned warm.
Zhao Wuji looked along his line of sight and couldn't help but grit his teeth. Three years ago, he had this Buddhist bead wrapped around his hand. On a rainy night, he personally took a small bottle of Song Yanqing's blood. It was a white porcelain medicine bottle with a emblem on the bottom.
With a small pear blossom.
He tightened his eyes, and there was unconcealable hatred in his eyes. He really, really hated the way Song Yanqing looked at Chu Shou at this time, "I really regret not killing you that night."
After Song Yan listened, he turned his eyes and replied with a smile: "Didn't the little Zhongshan King already receive the scar of the precepts? How could he speak so openly in front of the Buddha?"
A trace of anger flashed in Zhao Wuji's eyes, and he turned his head to the left and right, covering all the hanging black hair on his neck.
He is a prince, so naturally he cannot become a monk in Buddhism, but only here can his manic heart be at peace. Every time he loses control, he will ask Huiyuan to tap on his neck.
"She needs to stay away from such an ominous person like you in order to be healthy and happy." Zhao Wuji said it truthfully. He had told him at the gate of Hanyuan three years ago that he, Song Yanqing, should not appear.
over there.
Song Yanqing took a few more sticks of incense, raised his hand to lend light to the fire, and asked nonchalantly: "How long had she been sick at that time?"
Zhao Wuji thought of those days when Chu Shou was lingering on the sickbed, and seeing how calm and gentle the man in front of him said, he couldn't help but clenched his fists, and said fiercely: "From the day you decided to leave Hanyuan, after New Year's Eve, until next year
Spring has passed, and it’s almost late summer before you feel better! How long did you say you were sick?”
The incense was ignited, he bowed devoutly, closed his hands, lowered his eyes and thought for a while, sneered, turned around and slowly approached Zhao Wuji, his eyes were heavy and his voice was cold: "So... you tried your best to find someone to pretend to be her.
, and took the golden arrow and asked her to stab my heart with her own hands, because she wanted my blood?"
Song Yanqing said one sentence after another, remembering that rainy night, the carriage was smashed, and he fell in the rain. The rain was so strong that he could not hear any sound. His years of survival would not allow him to give up, and he was about to get up and fight with the gangster.
While fighting, a familiar voice came to her ears. She called him "Azhi" in a low voice, and he loosened his grip on the hilt of the sword as if resigned to his fate.
Before the word "Qing Qing" came out of his mouth, the familiar golden arrow in his hand pierced straight into his heart. The woman wore a black gauze hat on her head and was wearing green clothes. No matter how you look at it...no matter how you look at it,
It's the person he cares about.
He recalled his despair, recalled his deep hatred, recalled that moment of despair, confusion, anger, confusion, pain, recalled what Zhao Wuji said at the gate of Hanyuan, what Chu Shou kept saying in his mouth
Yes, the magnolia stalk that I longed for was actually used to treat his illness.
Love is as deep as grass, it turned out that he threw his love into the grass with his own hands.
As he spoke, his voice couldn't help but tremble, forcing Zhao Wuji to retreat repeatedly.
Zhao Wuji raised his lips and smiled provocatively. In response to Song Yanqing's cold eyes when he looked at him, he said lightly: "So what?"
"Zhao Qianzhi..." He whispered his name coldly, his eyes filled with coldness. Zhao Wuji's eyes flickered slightly, but he refused to give in. He even raised the wrist wrapped with Buddhist beads and shook it.
He continued: "If I hadn't kept you useful, I would have wanted to pierce your heart with my own hands."
Three years is like a joke, so what does his avoidance and rejection mean to Chu Shou?
Three years, three years of him blaming her and three years of regret. What are these three years of indifference and three years of deliberate misses?
Song Yanqing clenched her fists tightly, her eyes were scarlet red, and she suddenly raised her hands and grasped Zhao Wuji's collar, pressing him closer and closer.
"Azhi!"
Chu Shou's clear voice pulled him back again. He suddenly lowered his head, deflated, stopped, let go of his hand, and then clenched his hand tightly again, his finger bones bulging.
The rays of sunlight were blocked by the thick lintels of the hall, and only a few beams shone on his face, leaving a silhouette on his face, but the color was vague but unclear.
Song Yanqing pursed her lips, turned around as if she had made up her mind, strode out of the palace, took Chu Shou's hand, and disappeared in front of the palace.
After Zhao Wuji witnessed everything, he staggered a few steps and fell down on the side of the futon. He couldn't hide the loneliness in his eyes and couldn't help laughing.
He will never regret what he has done with his own hands. The young eagle falls in love with the young rabbit. How can it end well unless both wings are cut off?
@
"How are you doing?"
Chu Shou was pulled down the steps. She staggered and suddenly felt a little weightless. She leaned back and pulled the railing tightly for resistance, but she couldn't reach the person walking in front of her.
"My legs hurt. You might as well push me and let me roll down the steps."
Song Yanqing pursed her lips tightly, and suddenly stopped again, which made Chu Shou extremely confused. Just now she saw him pressing towards Zhao Wuji step by step, and then she shouted out. The two of them had not met before.
Deal with it, don't start a fight here right now...
Unexpectedly, Song Yanqing let go of her hand, walked directly in front of her, bowed and said, "Come up."
Chu Shou was stunned for a moment, then turned around and said, "In front of the public...Eh, eh, eh?"
Before he finished speaking, he carried her on his back. Chu Shou circled his neck, feeling cool and cool, and naturally put his face on his shoulder. When they were in Hanyuan, they picked herbs and went down the mountain. She was tired.
When he couldn't walk on the road, he carried Song Yanqing down like this, but the mountains in Youbei were full of mountain paths, but this stone plank road was not as easy to walk on.
"Zhao Wuji is ill. Sometimes he loses control of his emotions and scolds everyone he sees. Don't argue with him." Chu Shou said in a low voice.
Song Yanqing sneered, her eyes darkened, and replied: "If I am more sick than him, can you just look at me and not him?"
"Ah?" Chu Shou was confused and raised his hand to pat him on the shoulder, "Why are you competing with him? Being sick is the most uncomfortable thing."
After Song Yan listened, her heart tightened. Although she loved boiling medicine and making medicine at that time, she was most afraid of drinking medicine. She took better care of herself than her ancestors in the family. Being sick for three consecutive seasons was probably the most uncomfortable thing for her.
The corners of his eyes couldn't help but feel sour, so he happily responded: "Okay... I won't argue with him."
He has missed it for three years, and from now on, he doesn't want to miss it again.