Rong Tang had heard similar words before. At that time, he was overwhelmed by the task, shrouded by guilt, and overwhelmed by decadence. He also wondered what eyes without desire looked like.
But now, hearing Huimian say this, Rong Tang was just slightly startled, and then he said frankly: "After all, I am also an ordinary person."
In this mundane world, people are born with desires. After all, Rong Tang is just a tiny grain of sand among the countless grains of sand in the Ganges River, not an ancient Buddha on a high platform who has no sorrow or joy.
Huimian smiled lightly, without commenting, and bent down to pour him a cup of tea, and asked, "What brings you here, benefactor?"
Rong Tang: "Still painting."
The young man in monk robes glanced at the brocade box and asked, "Have you ever opened it?"
Rong Tang nodded: "I have seen it."
"Can you see anything unusual?"
"Buddhism is compassionate. I only feel the vicissitudes of life, but nothing strange." Rong Tang replied.
Huimian opened the brocade box and the Buddha statue unfolded in his hands. Years of incense and candles had left marks on the drawing paper. The ancient Buddha closed his eyes, as if he couldn't bear to see the sufferings of the world. Behind him was a large lotus bud.
The monk took a look at it, closed it again, put it back in the box, and calmly pushed it in front of Rong Tang: "This is the donor's fate. I am just a keeper of the painting, not the owner."
Rong Tang asked: "What kind of fate?"
Huimian: "What doubts do you have in your mind?"
Rong Tang thought that he had too many doubts.
Why did he come to this world? What is his relationship with Sheng Chengli? Who is the protagonist between Sheng Chengli and Su Huaijing? Is the way of heaven that he favors so much really the orthodox one
But all the doubts collided in his mind. Rong Tang glanced at him, lowered his head, sipped the tea in the cup, raised his eyes and asked: "Have I seen you?"
Huimian smiled and replied, "In early March last year, you and I read scriptures together for two nights."
Rong Tang: "Besides that?"
The mountain gate was clear of snow, the Zen temple was quiet, and the stove was burning slowly in front of me.
Huimian said softly, "The snow in the courtyard of the third scholar is very beautiful."
Rong Tang's pupils shrank, and then he felt relieved.
At the funeral in the eleventh year of Qingzheng, Ke Hongxue invited countless monks to come home to chant sutras and pray for his fellow student, hoping that he would be reborn in paradise.
At that time, he had only a quick glance at everyone and could not remember their appearance clearly. But now, after listening to Huimian's description, his vague memory began to become clear. There was indeed a monk who had been ordained in the crowd and looked exactly like him.
In the previous life, he had shaved his head and was wearing a monk's robe. Last year, he had black hair and was wearing a monk's robe. But when I see him again today, his hair has turned into a head full of white hair.
It seems not surprising that any changes happen to such a monk.
So Rong Tang asked, "What is the fate between the master and me?"
Huimian looked at him for a long time, smiled slightly, chanted a Buddhist name, and asked, "What is your fate with this world?"
No one knew where the system had gone, and Rong Tang had not heard any of its voice. In this courtyard, there was only a stove, a pot of tea, snow-covered branches in the yard, and two people sitting opposite each other in front of the stove.
Rong Tang thought about it again and again, and said honestly: "I don't know."
He thought he was the savior of this small world, but after three lifetimes, he couldn't even save himself.
he looks like…
How can we save the world when we are trapped in a scam from beginning to end
It seemed that he had no fate with this world. He was just passing by and happened to stop here.
It was freezing cold, but the house was slightly warm. There was a faint sound under the Buddhist temple, and Rong Tang turned around to look.
The white pupa appeared at an inopportune time, with a few cracks emerging from the pupa shell.
Not in accordance with the season, and against the weather.
Huimian asked him, "Do you miss home, benefactor?"
Rong Tang was stunned for a moment, then his attention was called back. He thought about it carefully and shook his head: "I don't remember."
Nine years in another world, and the twenty years of life in modern times were more like a mirage, and I can’t remember much of it.
The roads we travel on every day and the trees on the roadside may occasionally appear in our dreams, but modern family members cannot even remember their appearance.
Huimian asked, "When did you come here, benefactor?"
Rong Tang knew what he was asking, but he answered calmly, "Today at noon."
Huimian was slightly startled and then smiled.
He stood up from the futon, picked up the silkworm pupa from under the hall and placed it next to the stove.
"You will know the fate between you and the world and those two people when you think about the question I asked you just now." Huimian did not force it, and explained gently: "As for the purpose of your visit, it will be solved soon."
He said: "The tea is only half served, and the show is only halfway through. If you don't leave on your own, you don't have to worry about leaving early."
Rong Tang opened his eyes and undeniably breathed a sigh of relief.
He came to Tulan Monastery, ostensibly to return the painting, but actually to have a conversation with Huimian.
As for the truth behind this world, he didn't think Huimian knew all of it, or even if he knew, he probably couldn't tell it all.
—Even Rong Tang himself couldn’t talk to Su Huaijing about the novel “The Emperor’s Journey”.
It is certain that world consciousness is limited, so all he wants is peace of mind.
How long can he stay with Su Huaijing
Will he be able to reach the end of his destiny as he did in his previous lives, or will he be dragged down by illness along the way
Huimian told him the answer to the question: even if he was sick, even if he was coughing up blood and fainted, he would not die easily.
This is enough.
This has solved Rong Tang's most pressing question.
He bowed his head and said, "Thank you, Master."
“You’re welcome, benefactor.” Hui Mian said softly, his eyes falling on the silkworm pupa.
The gap widened little by little, and the sound of butterfly wings vibrating was heard. Rong Tang looked down in confusion and saw a light blue butterfly breaking out of its cocoon in the snow, flapping its wings weakly and flying low beside the stove.
As if possessed by a magic spell, Rong Tang reached out and caught the butterfly.
Weak creatures live on the fingertips, where light blue and white intersect, like the most gentle painting in the world.
The butterfly folded its wings, and Huimian said, "The donor is kind and the millions of disaster victims in Jiangnan should also be grateful for the donor's kindness."
Huimian smiled and said, “It’s my karma.”
"not my business?"
Huimian did not give a direct answer: "Everyone in this world is closely related."
In a few breaths, the early butterfly rested for a moment, flapped its wings and flew up, flew around Rong Tang's fingertips twice, then turned and flew into the fire without hesitation, turning into ashes.
Huimian: "Amitabha."
Before leaving, Huimian asked Rongtang to stay and handed him five brand new amulets.
"New Year's Eve is coming soon. The amulet you prayed for at the beginning of the year must be old. Take it back and change it."
Rong Tang was slightly stunned. Before he married Su Huaijing, he had asked for a lucky charm for him and promised the villain that he would ask for one for him every year. Two years had passed and there were indeed two lucky charms at home.
Now there are five more...
He hesitated for a moment, took the talisman package and twisted it gently. Without exception, he felt traces of incense ash and paper friction in it. It was obvious that each amulet contained a piece of paper with the birth date written on it, and each had its own owner.
Rong Tangyuan was not very curious, but he didn't know whether the white hair was too eye-catching or the five talisman bags were some kind of clear signal. He paused for two seconds and asked, "Master, the karma you mentioned, is it kinship?"
The eminent monk Huimian was famous all over the world. Some said he was a 70-year-old man who had achieved sainthood; some said he was a living Buddha with many faces. Even the emperor of the time could hardly see him once, but Rongtang met him twice, and each time he was relaxed and casual, and received gifts from the eminent monk many times.
If we count the previous life...
How could it be that the Shaoqing of the Dali Temple had passed away, so Huimian personally recited the Three-Day Sutra
He thought again of the fire that burned down the Tuolan Temple, and was almost certain in his heart.
Huimian: "Since you have entered Buddhism, you should cut off the worldly affairs."
Rong Tang didn't want to be fooled by him, so he asked, "Since you have entered Buddhism, why haven't you shaved your head yet, Master?"
Huimian laughed softly: "I shaved it."
Rong Tang paused for a moment, and Huimian said, "You saw it with your own eyes, didn't you?"
He had his hair shaved.
In the winter of the eleventh year of Qingzheng, Mu Jingxu's funeral.
At that time, Prince Dasui had died on the way to the Wanshou Festival, Mu Jingxu died of exhaustion, and Su Huaijing was alive but had been corroded by hatred.
Huimian had shaved his head at that time.
Long hair is his karma and also his affinity.
But now these five amulets represent his worldly treasures.
Rong Tang's voice was a little hoarse, and he asked: "Why don't you say it?"
If he had stood up at that time, Su Huaijing might not have taken the final step.
Huimian put his hands together, chanted the Buddha's name slowly, and said: "Those who watch chess are silent, those who examine the sky are speechless, I have seen the movement of the stars, and the variables are not in my hands."
In other words, the secret of heaven cannot be revealed, he cannot tell;
The variable is not in himself, so he doesn't need to say it.
Rong Tang understood: "The variable is me?"
Huimian: "Where did you come from, why did you come, when did you come, and where are you going? When you remember these, you will naturally know what the variables are."
Rong Tang looked at him silently, feeling very excited.
Clearly nothing was said, yet it seemed as if everything was said.
A butterfly flew into the sea of fire, a handful of snow fell from the treetops, and a few ounces of sandalwood drifted away. As he stepped out of the courtyard, Rong Tang suddenly realized how lively this place was.
This famous ancient temple is crowded with pilgrims every day, so where does it get such tranquility and peace from
Someone was waiting at the corner, the deep red bricks of the ancient temple reflected behind him, like a devout believer waiting for the gods for years.
Rong Tang's eyes suddenly felt warm for no reason. He squeezed the amulet in his hand and walked quickly towards him. His breathing became much smoother, a lightness he had not felt in all these days.
When Su Huaijing saw him coming out, his eyes lit up, and he quickly came over, stretched out his hand to hold his wrist, blocking the wind, and whispered: "Slow down, your illness hasn't healed yet, and the wind has blown you—"
Before he finished speaking, Su Huaijing opened his eyes in disbelief, lifted Rong Tang's wrist somewhat inappropriately, and carefully felt his pulse.
Rong Tang had some guesses in his mind, but he was still subconsciously nervous when he saw him like this, and asked in a trembling voice: "Am I okay?"
Su Huaijing nodded, then shook his head.
Not great, but at least not bad.
The pulse has returned to the condition it was before the illness and still needs to be regulated, but he is no longer breathing so weakly as if he would close his eyes and never wake up again at any time.
The terminal illness that had lasted for nearly a month seemed like an illusion and had never appeared on Rong Tang, causing him to worry day and night.
Su Huaijing probed again and again, fearing that it was just an illusion of his own imagination.
Snow fell on the eaves, incense ash filled the ancient temple. Rong Tang let him explore for nearly half a quarter of an hour before whispering, "It's cold..."
Su Huaijing suddenly came to his senses, and without thinking too much, he took Rong Tang's hand and walked out of the temple.
He hesitated for a moment before turning around. He walked alone to the small courtyard of Huimian, bowed respectfully and seriously, and whispered: "Master, Sheng Fuya is very grateful for your kindness. If there is any cost, please let me bear it alone."
After doing all this, he turned around, took Rong Tang's hand, and walked out of the mountain gate: "Let's go home."
"Can we eat something delicious now?" Rong Tang asked quietly.
Su Huaijing smiled and said, "Want to eat hot pot?"
"Great!" Rong Tang said excitedly, paused for half a second, and suggested: "Take brother with you."
"good."
On the first day of the twelfth lunar month, the weather is fine and old friends should return.
Su Huaijing finally showed his most sincere smile in this month.
(End of this chapter)