Meng Liangchuan squatted in the narrow downstairs aisle, took three puffs of cigarettes, and his mouth went deep into his heart. The man beside him, the police officer who had questioned Wen Han in the small room at the embassy and consulate, put his police cap on the windowsill: "It's a pity."
Meng Liangchuan closed his eyes.
This is the second time this kid has saved his life, only this time it's life-for-life. He still remembered clearly how in the basement of the western restaurant, how the child blocked the iron door and glanced at him up and down: "I really despise you." And how he told himself boldly that he saved his life, in the The night when the Tibetan Mastiff came.
At this time, the police officer was thinking about the man.
Before leaving, Cheng Muyun half-squatted on the floor in front of him and Meng Liangchuan, saying goodbye to the big boy's body. In his mind, repeatedly, he licked the blood of his brother on the back of his hand, got up and left. The officer thought that he needed to go to the temple to calm himself down.
"How did you know him?"
"Ten years ago, I cooperated with someone on a case," Meng Liangchuan said softly, "that person dealt with him." When this man was working in Moscow, he was accompanied by a group of people, all of whom were anonymous and willing to be lonely. Many people have known each other for several years but do not even know each other's names. Then something happened, many people died, and this man disappeared from the world. Therefore, Meng Liangchuan has always guessed that his return this time is related to the original incident.
That night, Meng Liangchuan had an illusion when he finally saw him. He had been hiding for many years in order to break the identity of the smuggling base, and finally he was waiting for him to appear in Nepal.
"How do people deal with it?" The man around him gave Meng Liangchuan a deep look.
"It's not under our control, we can't handle it, cremate it first, and keep the ashes until he comes to pick it up."
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"From the beginning of customs clearance, you need a person to deal with everything, follow the route I said, and get to that place. Don't show that you know me in front of anyone, unless, I let you do it." This is his first One last word before leaving the temple.
Wen Han clutched his passport in his hand, and pretended to be casual, and went to scan a dozen steps away, waiting with a bunch of Chinese monks at the entrance of the immigration office.
The tour group in front finally completed the customs clearance procedures.
Wen Han handed out a passport, which was given to her by Cheng Muyun. After she handed it over, she quickly thought of countless excuses for being discovered, but everything went smoothly. Finished it quickly and walked out of the office.
Cheng Muyun was still leaning against the pillar, waiting for the customs clearance.
Wen Han grabbed a small denomination dollar and found a place where he could make a phone call according to the place he instructed. The number was dialed, and it was quickly picked up. The tired middle-aged woman's voice: "Hello." She clenched the phone tightly: "Mom." The voice over there was very pleasant: "Where did the long pilgrimage go? Our dear Is your little girl still having fun?"
Her nose was sore, and she didn't dare to say more. According to what Cheng Muyun said, she confessed two sentences. Will stay in Nepal for a long time, it will be fine, don't worry, don't worry anyway.
The phone hung up, and the locals found a handful of change for her.
She turned around and walked out into the street.
At this time, she was standing on the street between Nepal and India. On the left is Nepal, on the right is the closed door of India, people come and go, and there are many border guards in camouflage uniforms.
He didn't lie to her.
He said: "When you call, you will find that your adoptive parents know nothing, that you and your friends are still going on a pilgrimage that will last three months. "
He said: "Wang Wenhao and your friends are temporarily restricted from activities, so no one knows that you are missing one of the four of you."
"After this call is over, you're going to start learning to trust me," he said.
She raised the brim of her sun hat and saw the monks start walking towards the closed gate on the Indian side. She also started to walk forward, and out of the corner of the eye, it was him.
Two portraits walk in two worlds in parallel.
A female tourist on an exotic trip, and a monk on a pilgrimage alone.
One after another, entered the border gate of India.
She followed the route he planned and traveled all day to reach the train station alone. This is different from her coming to India a month ago, when she was traveling.
And now, when she was in the railway station square, she saw women and children wrapped in tattered blankets squatting on the side of the road and cooking a fire, and many people rushed up, grabbed her hand, and asked in English with a strong Indian accent. Always keep the nerves tense.
There are people here, as well as cows, dogs, unknown dirty birds, and mice.
Even without the waves of Nepalese experience, India is a very unsafe country.
Without a ticket, she was squeezed onto the train by the crowd and brushed by a cow...
Some people looked at her as a foreigner, and took it for granted that she had booked a premium AC compartment, and pushed her: "The air-conditioned sleeper is in front." But the ticket she was holding in her hand was a medium-sized non-air-conditioned sleeper.
S, sleeper. Sleeper, shouldn't be too bad
"You should buy a ticket for a better carriage." The local, who locked her luggage on the bunk with iron chains when she found her seat, told her in English, which she didn't quite understand.
She smiled, raised her head, and looked at her bunk.
The bottom is full of people, the seats are, and the top is the bunk. Noisy, noisy, messy. Just when she was in a daze, a young man rushed up and climbed onto her bunk. After leveling it for her, he jumped down immediately, stretched out his hand to her, and said something.
She was stunned.
"He said he wanted a tip." Someone whispered behind him.
She froze on her back, controlling, not to show her inner excitement on her face. A whole day, from the morning to the arrival at the exit, and now, many hours have passed.
"Oh, is it?" She took out the smallest piece of money and stuffed it into the boy's hand.
Then he turned back, met those dark and deep eyes, and folded his hands together, and the three words "Hello Lama" appeared in his heart half a year ago.
A light flashed through his eyes, and he returned a palm salute.
Crowds of people poured into the sleeper car, the train moved, and he sat among two locals, not a sleeper. There were people everywhere, and on the single seat by the window, there were also two adult men huddled together. She had nowhere to stay, so she had to climb onto her own bunk.
The bunk had a strange smell.
She used the bag as a pillow, barely blocking the complicated musty smell. From this angle, seeing Cheng Muyun sitting quietly, it really looks like a pilgrimage to India.
As night fell, there was singing, small talk, and loud laughs. Children's voices, locals, travelers, and many more.
There are seats for eight people below, and a dozen people are squeezed.
No one checks tickets here, and whoever grabs a seat is who. Fortunately, five young Chinese people grabbed a seat and took up a whole row.
"Big monk," the two Chinese girls rolled their eyes, seeing that he was the only Chinese face sitting across from him, and began to try to talk to him, "Where are you from?"
"A lot of places," he said.
The short-haired girl laughed and took another look at Cheng Muyun. Such a handsome monk, so beautiful.
The long-haired girl noticed that Wen Han hadn't slept, and looked up at her: "Hey, you sleep on it, are you bored? Are you traveling alone? It's not safe for a girl in India."
"I'm here on a pilgrimage," Wen Han replied to her, "I have friends waiting for me at the next stop."
"Oh," the long-haired girl thought for a while, and told her, "you remember, don't drink any food or drink that anyone gives you, don't set your hotel near the train station, don't go out casually at night, and don't trust tourist attractions. Those smiling Indians," she said in Chinese, telling Wen Han how dangerous it was here. And the Indian men in front of her are also happily looking at the girl who has been talking all the time.
Wen Han said "um" and said thank you. This situation is so ordinary, she even feels that she is really here on a pilgrimage. Instead of running around in a strange country, you have to go to an unknown place to save your life.
"Big monk, is this your first time in India?" The short-haired girl couldn't help but continue talking to Cheng Muyun. This monk is so beautiful, even her fingers are beautiful when turning the book. She was wondering if she could communicate better and take a photo with him before getting off the bus.
"Not really."
"Then...Is there anything you must eat in India?" The short-haired girl is obviously out of words, and those online travel guides will have it. The boy beside her was a little dissatisfied, a monk, what is there to strike up a conversation with.
"You can try, Ammara." He turned the page.
"Ammara fruit?"
Umara fruit.
This is a fruit often mentioned in Buddhist texts, produced in India. Warm thought.
Her eyes were a little sore, and the heart she had been holding all day fell because of his appearance. But he was still a little uneasy. He was sitting in the crowd, and he could only lie diagonally above, unable to speak or communicate, and he couldn't even look at each other.
"This fruit is often mentioned in Buddhist texts," he whispered. "It's hard to come by in India, so you should try it."
"Buddhist classics?" Someone asked, "Can you really memorize that many monks?"
"Analud, seeing Jambudi, it is like seeing the nunnery in the palm of your hand." He replied casually.
"Uh, what do you mean?"
Analu is one of the ten disciples of the Buddha, Jambudi has various meanings, often refers to the human world, looking at the human world is like looking at the ummara fruit in the hand. Metaphor, at a glance. Warm thought.
"It's very complicated." He smiled slightly and used three words to send off curious people.
The short-haired girl thought it was funny, and asked a few more words about the classics of Ammarago. The long-haired girl beside her was not that interested in Buddhism, and joked that it was useless to read Buddhist scriptures, so don’t ask, it caused a headache, she raised her eyes and looked a little lonely listening to her group of people chatting. Wen Han: "Right? Do you feel bored too, sounds?"
Wen Han couldn't help laughing: "I believe in Buddhism."
The long-haired girl also smiled: "Really? Then can you tell me some allusions that I can understand? Can I be a little interested?"
Wen Han thought for a while: "This lama just now—" She was inexplicably guilty, looked at him out of the corner of the eye, but Cheng Muyun didn't respond, and continued to read the book, "It's a bit complicated. Let me give you an example, listen. Ever used the word 'cocoon'?"
Cheng Muyun's hand turning over the book slowly stopped.
The long-haired girl smiled: "I just carried it back in elementary school."
"In the beginning, this word came from the Buddhist scriptures," Wen Han picked out a few sentences and recited them to her. "It has accumulated, and delusions have become entangled in themselves, like a silkworm cocooning into a sea of life and death."
"Delusions entangle themselves, like silkworms cocooning, falling into the sea of life and death," the two girls' companions also became interested and asked, "How to explain?"
"That's it..." Although her Chinese has improved a lot, she still needs to carefully organize her language if she wants to explain the Buddhist scriptures. "As you accumulate more and more bad karma, you will have a lot of delusions, like a cocoon of silkworms, trapped in The sea of life and death. There are two more sentences behind, which are a bit complicated, so I won't tell you. You can go and read the "Langa Sutra", it is very interesting."
Cheng Muyun closed the book, took out a water bottle from the cloth bag he straddled, twisted it open and drank it. He raised his head for a moment, and his eyes fell on the small figure on the upper bunk, calm and hot.
The meeting of eyes, a little close and then leave.
This was the first time the two looked at each other after the train left the station. Just a glance can make your body hot, and only this man can do it.
The train stops.
People who didn't squeeze out, instead, many people came up. A boy wearing headphones rudely pushed his shoulders away from the crowd, kept looking for a seat, and finally when he looked up and saw Wen Han, he bared his teeth and smiled: "Beautiful sister, you are so thin, lend me half of the bed. Bar?"
Wen Han was stunned for a moment, then he put his hand on the edge of the bunk, stepped on his foot, and jumped up.