"Sister Xiu Niang, do you have something important to do?"
Ye Weilai had a curious face, but turned around and took out a long branch.
It was exactly the one Ouyang Rong saw a few days ago.
The embroiderer lowered her head and sat on the edge of the bed, repeatedly folding a corner of the rice paper with her right hand with the broken little finger, which seemed to be a habitual action when she was in a daze or nervous.
She lowered her eyebrows and nodded without further explanation.
"Ms. Xiu, please be safe." Ye Weilai patted the back of her hand.
"Yeah." The embroiderer smiled lightly.
He shook his head at her, as if to indicate that the matter was not dangerous.
The white-haired maid is in peace.
The embroiderer covered the sleeping young man on the bed, got up and took Ye Weilai to the front hall to teach her sword skills.
"Master's ancestral teachings, unless we are under the same disciple and become Zhilan, the Qi refining technique cannot be taught to others. I can only teach you a few sword moves. I may not be around Tanlang often in the future. You should practice it in case of emergency.
The need..."
Ye Weilai followed the pretty cook and thought of the ink she had left on the paper a few days and night.
From that day on, Ye Weilai began to practice some strange sword skills with Xiu Niang.
At the same time, thanks to Xie Lingjiang's temporary outing, the Meilin courtyard can be lightly lit at night without fear of being exposed.
Ye Weilai stayed up late to practice under the supervision of the embroiderer at night. During the day, her master was out on duty, and she was also immersed in thinking in the yard. From time to time, she ran to the kitchen to find the embroiderer...
So now, it’s three o’clock in the middle of the night.
A strange scene occurred in this room.
Under the dim light.
A little maid wearing a bright red bellyband and obscene trousers, with fair and delicate skin, and long snow-white hair tied into two ponytails draped over her shoulders.
She stood in the open space in the center of the front hall, waving a dead branch in her hand, her face very serious.
A mute girl with delicate features and a quiet posture, like a virgin, is sitting at the Eight Immortals table nearby, leaning against the light yellow halo of the oil lamp on the table, twisting a needle and threading, lowering her head to embroider red, in her hand is a cyan men's tattoo
robe.
From time to time, the mute girl raised her head to glance at the white-haired maid with twin ponytails practicing her sword. But most of the time, she lowered her head and squinted her eyes, concentrating on threading her needle. She only listened to the subtle sound of waving branches, and then she could shake her head in time and point out the white-haired maid.
The sword move is wrong.
On the other side of the bed, a handsome young man turned over and muttered, soundly asleep.
The scenes on both sides of the house are full of movement and silence. If an outsider sees this scene here, they will definitely be confused and weird.
It's a pity that in the light sandalwood, Ouyang Rong's eyes slowly moved under his eyelids, and his drowsy sleep was unbroken.
I don’t know what I was dreaming about…
The embroiderer may not be considered a master.
But he is definitely a comfortable teacher who never blames.
She picked up a few sword moves at her fingertips, and it was natural.
Ye Weilai was obviously very smart and clever as Ouyang Rong said, but she still had a lot of stumbles when practicing these sword moves.
Of course, there may be a reason why the embroiderer can only use it but not teach it.
In this regard, the embroiderer who was sitting at the table with her head bowed while working on the embroidery was very patient and not harsh. On the contrary, her face sometimes showed a look of guilt and remorse for not teaching her well.
Instead, Ye Weilai was left scrambling to comfort her.
"Sister Xiu Niang, let's see how my sword goes."
At this time, Ye Weilai blinked and said, she turned around and stood on tiptoes, bent down and made a sword move that looked like an antelope's chamfer.
The tips of the branches made a cracking sound.
There is a model.
The embroiderer smiled softly, put on the female red for a while, and wrote:
“Excellent.
"Weila is already very powerful.
"It's just that compared to swordsmanship, Wei Lai is more suitable for practicing Qi. She has a leak-free body and is nourished by the fragrance in the house day and night.
"It's a pity that the concubine's Qi refining technique cannot be taught.
"But it doesn't matter. In fact, the Qi training techniques of other channels are more suitable for Wei Lai."
The panting Ye Weilai wiped the sweat from her forehead with her fragrant handkerchief. She put her little head to the table and carefully looked at the embroiderer's calligraphy for a while. She couldn't help but curiously asked:
"Sister Xiu Niang, how long did it take you to practice these sword skills?"
The embroiderer thought for a while and wrote:
"No need to practice, they are in my heart, I took them out and gave them to Wei Lai."
Ye Weilai was stunned, "So you are the first to create these sword skills?"
The embroiderer nodded, her face calm.
Ye Wei looked at her cheeks and clear eyes, and saw no trace of pride at all.
The white-haired maid, who was proud of her "sword mastery" just a second ago, silently put away the branches, put her hands behind her waist in an honest manner, and swallowed her saliva.
Ye Weilai didn't know that in the eyes of the quiet and virginal girl in front of her, there were no sword moves in this world, and there was nothing in this world that was not a sword move.
Swordsmanship comes from the heart.
There is no sword in the corridor.
The embroiderer didn't pay attention to the little maid's shock, lowered her head and continued to embroider in her hands, mending clothes for the sleeping Tanlang.
With the help of Ye Weila, this little mole, the clothes she knitted will be worn by Tanlang in the name of the former.
The mute woman squinted in front of the lamp, sewing stitch by stitch, and occasionally glanced in the direction of the bed.
The four fingers of her right hand carefully touched the tightly stitched robe fabric.
Under the dim light, a delicate little face occasionally showed a look of blankness and happiness, and then bowed its head silently.
Silently embroidering for him.
Master once said four words to her when he was still alive.
not fated.
There are some people in this world who are truly destined to meet and even like them.
But you probably don’t have the other party’s qualifications.
This is the most easily overlooked point in the world, which is most easily overlooked by men and women who are blinded by love and fall in love.
This is also the reason why most men and women in the world have unhappy relationships.
"Idiot, cutting off love is not ruthless.
"It is precisely the most affectionate person, but he is very clear that he is destined to have no destiny, so he swung his sword to attack himself.
"So have less regrets and be more content."
Master’s words from back then are still in my ears.
"Ah." The embroiderer opened her mouth and said softly.
On the pad of Nianyi's index finger, a drop of blood appeared, slowly growing in size.
She held her finger in her red lips, sucked on it, and after a while, she was twisting the needle and embroidering again, a set of movements that she had already mastered.
The embroiderer lowered her head and sniffed.
She was already satisfied with being able to enjoy a moment of happiness with him like this, so how could she dare to ask for more?
I remember that back then, she was still a childhood sweetheart and he was still a best friend.
The embroidery lady was like this, sitting in the house where he was lying ill and sleeping, quietly weaving clothes for him.
"Sister Xiu Niang, you are fine, why are you crying?"
Ye Weilai put down the branch, bent down, looked up at the face of the mute cook who was immersed in embroidery, and asked in a low voice.
The embroiderer shook her head.
"Nothing," she wrote on the paper.
Ye Weilai couldn't help but look at the ink on the paper that was wet with clear liquid beads, and hesitated to speak.
"It's getting late, I've gone out, I'll be back later.
"Take good care of Tanlang, remember the swordsmanship taught to you, and please always stand in front of Tanlang."
The embroiderer shook Ye Weila's little hand, then went to the bed and spent some time alone with Ouyang Rong, who was lying on his side with his eyes closed, and left the Meilin courtyard not long after.
After sending the mute cook away, Ye Weilai looked down at the wet marks on her robe at the table.
…
The moon and stars are sparse.
The mountain wind howls.
The embroiderer silently climbed the steps up the mountain.
On the winding mountain road, at regular intervals, there is a bright lantern hanging.
Or hang it under the eaves of an isolated pavilion, in front of an archway, or on the treetops by the roadside.
It seems to be specially illuminated for pilgrims going up the mountain.
This mountain road, or this Dagushan, has many traces left by monks and pilgrims, and it is very prosperous.
Xiu Niang raised her head and looked at the temple complex with lights on the top of the mountain in the distance.
That is Donglin Temple.
It's a coincidence.
This is the place where she saved Tanlang twice.
In fact, for Xiu Niang, who has already become a mid-level Qi practitioner, she can cross this mountain road in an instant and jump to the top of the mountain.
But she still chose to climb the mountain step by step.
Like the devout pilgrims bathing in incense.
However, the embroiderer is more polite and respectful.
It's like worshiping a mountain gate.
Although the current Donglin Temple, to this day, may not know that it is a certain mountain gate in the eyes of some people.
By the light of the lanterns in the blinded pavilion halfway up the mountain where Tanlang liked to rest, Xiu Niang lowered her eyes and read through the letters from her master again.
On the letter paper, the senior sister's handwriting was eloquent, her pen moved like a dragon, and she was domineering.
It was obvious that he was simply telling her something not big or small.
But this piece of paper is like a mountain with a cliff thousands of feet high, which is on the verge of falling apart due to the sharp strokes of the pen.
The paper is full of sword energy.
If there is a promising Qi practitioner present at this moment, and seeing this piece of paper as thin as a hair, he will definitely be surprised by the owner of this word.
The embroiderer crumpled the letter paper and threw it into the mountain wind that crossed her shoulders.
Continue walking up the mountain.
The simple pavilion behind the calm mute girl began to sway in the debris of the mountain wind.
On the eaves, there is a row of roof tiles neatly separated in half, as if they had been cut with a knife, and the fractures were neat.
The embroiderer has long been accustomed to the senior sister's "arrogance".
She never looked back and visited the ancient temple again at night.
The embroiderer did not sneak out of the apprenticeship.
A few months ago, in the Pure Land Palace of Donglin Temple, after rescuing Tan Lang, she returned the crane-cloaked Qiu Lao Dao who sang "The Immortal Lord of Blessings" back to the water prison. Sure enough, she was caught on the spot by her senior sisters.
Originally, she had been grounded by the senior sister, and it was difficult for her to go out. But then things took a turn for the worse. She performed well at a grand event held by a certain division. The second senior sister interceded for her, and she was exempted from the confinement. She even received a letter about Longcheng County.
A strange errand allowed me to leave the school again.
However, as soon as he came to Longcheng County, he became obsessed with cooking for Tanlang and "sleeped" every night, which caused some delays in the official duties ordered by the master.
Now the senior sister sent another letter to remind me, with a strict tone.
"Ah." The mute woman sighed softly.
Don't dare to delay any longer.
Otherwise, if Senior Sister is attracted to come in person, it will be difficult for the matter with Tanlang to end...
At night, Donglin Temple does not close its doors.
Because Gangnam-do is famous, it is inevitable that some pilgrims from other places will arrive at night, go up the mountain late at night, and enter the temple to worship Buddha. It is not uncommon.
If I quote a joke from a young county magistrate, it means opening at twelve o'clock and not losing a moment to make money.
However, the word "business" doesn't sound very nice. In the original words of Master Shandao, this is called "Buddha's Compassion", which saves lost sentient beings all the time and everywhere.
Donglin Temple is also brightly lit tonight, and the rows of main halls are pure and solemn.
In the Incense Square, green smoke curls up.
From time to time, there would be three or two monks, yawning and walking around by lamplight.
A solemn main hall was not deserted in the middle of the night.
There were many figures gathered in front of the golden Buddha, burning incense and worshiping.
Standing at the front of this group of figures was an old monk with a white beard. He was wearing the black monk's robes reserved for eminent monks and was twisting Buddhist beads in his hands.
Although the old monk has single eyelids and small eyes, his eyes are shining brightly and he looks well, giving him an air of immortality.
"Amitabha, female benefactor, you are in trouble. In fact, there is no need to blame yourself so much. According to my many years of experience, it may not be your fault that you have not given birth to a child for a long time. After all, besides you, the female benefactor has other concubines in your house.
, and I haven’t shown my love for a long time.
"What, why is Lao Ne so sure? Without it, he is just familiar with it. Lao Na is nicknamed the Gynecological Sage. In these years, he has written thirty prescriptions for treating gynecological diseases. His reputation has spread far and wide, and pilgrims from all over the world are full of praises.
"For women's diseases, I only need to feel the pulse a little to get a rough idea. I never tell lies... Well, the female donor's sleeves are rolled up a little bit. Yes, that's the position. I will feel the pulse again...
"I can't be wrong. The female donor's pulse is clear and she is fine... Yes, please go this way and go to Guanyin Bodhisattva in the hall next door to burn incense and pray for blessings. If you donate some incense money, I hope that my son will be more spiritual.
"After burning the incense, go back first. Next time you come over, bring your husband with you. I can enlighten him..."
Master Shandao put his palms together and stood solemnly in the center of several female pilgrims who had taken the trouble to come all the way to pay homage to the Buddha. He concentrated on the golden Buddha behind his avatar to save the lost sentient beings in front of him.
But at this moment, the female donor in front of him who was stubbornly seeking a child wanted to observe and study his thirty famous prescriptions for gynecological diseases.
Master Shandao's white eyebrows drooped, looking very helpless and embarrassed. He shook out a copy from his sleeve half-heartedly, and had no choice but to give it away in his own name at the price of thirty taels of silver incense money.
And who would have thought that the more reluctant the old monk in black was, the more eager the female donors around him who came to burn incense and beg for a child would become.
For a moment, the white money dazzled Master Shandao, causing him to chant "Amitabha" several times in succession.
After a while, all the prescription booklets for today were sold out, and the enthusiastic female donors dispersed and left with satisfaction.
Master Shandao looked at the backs of the female donors who had returned home with loads of gifts and were bathed in Buddha's light. He breathed a sigh of relief and muttered inaudibly:
"It seems that I have to let my hair down the mountain to print more tomorrow. Hey, why not open a printing shop. It would be convenient. The supply exceeds the demand. However, the court seems to have stipulated that private printing of books is not allowed. You have to report to the county government. Otherwise,
Let’s go discuss it with the county magistrate...
"Forget it, the county magistrate is not sincere, so I won't look for him anymore..."
Master Shandao shook his head, as if he remembered the bright smile of a certain young county magistrate. In the warm hall, this well-known eminent monk couldn't help but shudder. There is no doubt that if there is a profit, this
The young county magistrate can let the whole world know his name as a gynecological expert, just to sell the best products.
However, one thing is that Master Shandao feels that the young county magistrate has indeed done a good job in administering government for the people, better than the previous ones. The only shortcoming is that he does not respect the Buddha very much, or in other words, he does not regard the Buddha as an outsider.
Already.
But sometimes the Buddha didn't have any food left.
Master Shandao sighed helplessly, drove away these worldly distractions, and turned to continue receiving the few remaining pilgrims in the hall.
"Amitabha, this male donor, would you like to burn incense to worship the Buddha, or ask for fortune-telling to resolve doubts, what? Come to interpret the dream? Tonight's dream?"
"...Wait a minute, donor, you said you are also here to ask for a child? You have worshiped Guanyin Bodhisattva and stayed at this temple tonight, but you dreamed that Guanyin Bodhisattva entered the donor's bedding? So you came here to interpret the dream? Do you want to ask if this is a request?
An auspicious sign of success? This...this..."
Master Shandao opened his mouth and looked at the ecstatic infertile male pilgrim in front of him. He was speechless for a long time and then spoke quietly:
"Donor, Guanyin Bodhisattva has a female body and a male body."
Male pilgrim: "..."
After lighting a stick of incense, Master Shandao finally sent away the last unreliable male pilgrims who were having erotic dreams. Master Shandao raised his hand and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
Master Shandao looked calmly at the empty hall, reached out with his hand holding the beads, and quietly shook the heavy incense box. He was about to open it and count it carefully, but out of the corner of his eye he suddenly caught a glimpse of a figure outside the door.
The old monk immediately came up to him and saluted solemnly: "Amitabha, this female alms...female Bodhisattva came to visit late at night. Do you want to burn incense and worship the Buddha, or ask for fortune-telling to resolve doubts?"
The embroiderer nodded, shook her head, and walked into the hall.