Standing under the Huaiyuan Temple, looking at the vigorous and vigorous inscriptions, I felt a heart-stirring sense of heroism. Although Huaiyuan Temple is a royal temple, ordinary people can also pray here and make wishes unless there are special circumstances.
The temple is very large, divided into three halls: upper, middle and lower. Starting from the main gate, there are the Jade Emperor Hall, Daxiong Hall and Guanyin Hall. There are two symmetrical corridors on the left and right. Burning incense and candles all the way up, I was already sweating profusely when I arrived at the Guanyin Hall.
It was dripping wet, and my legs and feet were sore.
Climbing up the stairs, I stretched out my feet and stepped into the temple door. The red soil on the white socks on my feet caught my attention. I stretched my legs back and took a closer look. It was also red mud? So, Zijin and the others came to Huaiyuan Temple yesterday?
Why did they come to Huaiyuan Temple in the evening? Just passing by when returning to Liu Mansion? Something big happened? What big thing could happen? Forced to convict? Murder? Usurpation? I thought about the soap plot in the TV series over and over in my mind, and then thought about it again and again.
, this matter is far away from me, why bother asking for trouble.
I glanced at the dusty Guanyin Hall, thinking about finding something to clean the dirt off my feet before going in. I walked to the side of the hall, looking intently for objects such as bamboo pieces. My waist was a little sore, so I straightened up and raised my head.
As soon as I took a look, my eyes were immediately attracted by the stone archway in front of me.
The archway is a four-column archway with three entrances and double eaves on the third floor. It is built with green sandstone. It is about eight meters high and eight meters wide. It is very grand. The roof can hold three liters. Each of the three entrances has a horizontal plaque and a door.
The front is engraved with "Huaiyuan Yunshen" and the back is engraved with "Big Buddha Zen Forest". There are exquisite relief patterns on it, namely "Two Phoenixes Chaoyang" and "Two Dragons Securing Treasures", and there are patterns such as holding drums and auspicious clouds under the pillars.
The smooth lines and sophisticated knife skills carve the flying phoenix and auspicious dragon lifelikely. Every feather and edge is so vivid and flying. Your fingers carefully outline and touch the undulating concave and convex, and you can't help but sigh with admiration.
Following the carvings, there is a small stone tablet embedded in the middle. If you look closely, it is engraved on it, "In the thirty-second year of Emperor Renzhi of Zhou Jin Dynasty, the contract was difficult to make in winter."
Deed is difficult? I muttered this name, it should be the name of the monk!
There were some leftover stones beside the archway, and there was a dense and quiet forest behind it. When I listened carefully, I heard the sound of jingling stones being carved from inside. I went deeper curiously, completely forgetting about burning incense.
The morning light spreads, dyeing the entire forest into a gorgeous rose color. Holding your breath, among the scattered stones and some shaped and half-finished statues, a person held a fist with one hand to support his chin, and held a chisel down with the other hand, looking thoughtfully
He stared at a large square stone in a daze.
He walked quietly, but accidentally stepped on the iron tool and made a sound, but he was unmoved. He was dressed in a plain blue Buddhist robe that fit well, with six clear scars on his head, and long eyelashes in his half-closed eyes.
Her eyes were cast into shadows, her eyebrows were as sharp as a knife, and her nose was upright. At first glance, she looked very beautiful. I laughed because I didn't expect that a monk could be so beautiful.
"Master looks like this, is he waiting for something to come out of it?" I struck up a conversation with good intentions. Where can I find a close friend in my life, let alone a master with such extraordinary craftsmanship.
As if he didn't hear it, he moved his body, picked up the chisel and drew something on the stone.
Next to him is a statue of a monk that has just been carved not long ago. It has a plump face and a calm expression. His lips are open like a wave and he is reciting scriptures endlessly. The carving is really from the ancestors. Look at him, he still continues to sit in a daze, simply mumbling.
He murmured to himself and read: "The body is like a Bodhi tree, and the mind is like a mirror. I should brush it diligently at all times to avoid causing dust."
He finally reacted, tilted his head slightly, and glanced at me with his peripheral vision.
I smiled lightly at him, nodded, and read again: "Bodhi has no tree, and the mirror is not a stand. There is nothing in the first place, so how can it cause dust." In fact, I know very little about Buddhism. I can only remember this little bit because of my support.
Thanks to the TV series.
He cleared his throat and continued without giving up: "The little girl also likes to play with some wood carvings and clay sculptures on weekdays, but her craftsmanship is rough and is nothing to mention." I squatted down and imitated his example, cupping my chin and saying, "I
I also like to look at things in a daze. Nature is a great and majestic artist. If you look at it with concentration, the things you want will come out of it. Sometimes I hold a piece of sandalwood with tight wood and want to carve something cute.
But I looked at the direction of the lines, picked up the knife, and carved out a pipe, because that's what I saw there."
He smiled, his flesh was fresh and his teeth were white, the clarity in his eyes and the elegance of his nod were actually a kind of immortal and refined.
"I'm a poor monk, please don't blame me for being negligent to the donor just now." Even the voice was so clear and pure, yet so familiar. That voice in hell! Yes, his voice was the same as the voice of the King of Hell in hell.
It’s like coming out of nowhere!
"Uh... no..." She stuttered a little, stood up with him and said with a smile: "It turns out that the master is Qi Nan. I thought that a craftsman with such skills should be an elder, but I didn't expect that he would be so young and powerful.
The talent of the master is truly astonishing."
"Eyes?" Qi Nan obviously heard wrongly. He was startled for a moment and then smiled again and said, "It's the donor who has given me the reward. As the donor said, there is no Bodhi tree, and the poor monk doesn't have much skill. He just lets the carving come from himself."
Just take out the chisel in your hand." After saying this, he did not forget to put his palms together and salute.
"No, Master is being too modest." I replied politely. Suddenly the light dimmed, and I looked up at the sky. A group of dark clouds slowly blocked the sun from east to south and covered the sky. Suddenly the sky became hazy. What a strange weather.
, it was fine just now, I thought it would be good weather today.
A dark shadow enveloped Qinan, his eyes were far away, and his face looking up to the sky was like a fairy coming to the dust. He took off the beads from his neck, closed his eyes, twisted the beads and chanted the scriptures in a low voice. After a while, he sighed and said to me: "
Donor, please come back as soon as possible. If it's any later, I'm afraid the city gate will be closed."
I opened my mouth wide and looked around in confusion, what's wrong?
He said nothing, turned around and walked quickly out of the stone archway. I looked at him strangely. Do enlightened monks behave weirdly like artists? Performance art? He shrugged and reached out to touch the half-carved statue of Subhuti beside him.
Boom boom boom!
Three huge bells sounded deafeningly, resounding throughout the city.
I jumped up, picked up the incense basket and ran out of the archway, and came to the Guanyin Hall. At this time, all the pilgrims and novice monks knelt down and bowed their heads on the ground, and the sounds of sadness echoed up to the sky.
The sky is filled with solemn sadness and colorless weeping.
The wind blows, and the spring breeze in March whistles so low that no one can lift their head.
In front of the large Guanyin Hall, Qinan sits cross-legged in the middle, with white cassocks edged with gold threads lined up and down, with layers of gold threads piercing the front and back. The monks sit in rows, clasping their hands, chanting devoutly, while the pilgrims
There was a lot of sobbing.
Kneeling on the ground, I finally figured out those things.