He smiled and said: "This snow tea is really good, Yunfeng, give me some money and buy a bag."
"Head! This is too expensive! 888 per bag! You can buy a ton of Monkey Ace Jasmine Tea!"
Complaints are complaints, but I reluctantly gave the money.
He smiled and said: "Lao Zhang, I see if you have a van, can you take us to Pomegranate Village tomorrow? We want to go there to watch the Buddha Festival."
"No problem! I will send you there after breakfast tomorrow. I have lived here for twenty years. If you don't understand anything, you can ask me!" He promised, patting his chest.
I know, it was a lie that Tou made excuses to buy tea, but it was true that he asked him to help as a guide.
Set off on time the next day, Lao Zhang introduced while driving:
"The Buddhist Festival is about showing thangkas. There are two large thangkas in Shiliu Village. One is modern and the other is said to be from the Tang Dynasty. Today, every household will take a small thangka and put it next to the big thangka to bask in the sun.
When the time comes, you must pay attention to the rules, no stepping on them, no spitting, and when you see an older woman, you must take off your hat and talk to them."
My brows jumped when I heard it, a big thangka from the Tang Dynasty?
Is it genuine? If it is genuine or exceeds two meters in length, it is a national treasure-level cultural relic!
Is there such a thing in Little Pomegranate Village?
I couldn't believe it until I saw it with my own eyes.
Dou Sprout said in shock: "I'll go! It's from the Tang Dynasty! If it's true! It can't be sold for hundreds of thousands!"
"Of course it's true!" Lao Zhang said: "In the past two years, experts from the county came to evaluate it. It was true. They also wanted to collect it for the museum, but they were strongly rejected by the villagers, and finally nothing happened."
I asked: "What if it's a real cultural relic from the Tang Dynasty? No one stole it?"
"Someone stole it! My wife said that the thangka was stolen seven times in total! As a result, everyone who stole it died violently, including falling to death, drowning, being hit by a car, etc."
"This is very evil. Don't believe it. Do you know what pattern is painted on that big thang card?"
I guessed: "Dolma (Tara)? Auspicious Heavenly Mother? Yamantaka? Or Padmasambhava?"
"No, neither."
Lao Zhang told me seriously: "It's the lion-headed Virgin who worships Yama."
I was surprised. The Lion-headed Virgin did not know, but I knew about Yama, the God of Death in Tibetan areas, which represents death.
When we arrived at Shiliu Village, we saw thick smoke coming from a distance and many people gathered there.
Many men and women were wearing long aprons and pleated clothes, and women had blue cloths wrapped around their heads. Someone squeezed out of the crowd, holding a strange black stone in his hand.
"Old Zhang, what are you doing?"
Lao Zhang said: "This is burning stones. Every year at the beginning of the Buddhist Festival, Tibetans will move a white stone, burn it black here, take it home and put it under the bed. It is said that it can ward off disasters."
I squeezed over to watch the fun.
I saw an old woman squatting next to the fire. She was wearing a shabby brown pleated coat, with a few strings of beads hanging around her neck, her head lowered.
The person would first hand the stone to her, and then she would throw the stone into the fire and burn it.
The fire crackled suddenly.
Perhaps because the stone was too heavy, a few pieces of dry firewood fell out.
The dry firewood was still smoking.
Inadvertently, an upside-down triangle was built on the ground.
