When Yu was young, there were no books at home, so he borrowed "Anthology", see the article "Changmen Fu", as if he had read it, and so did "Lisao". ”

Yuan Mei, a great genius of the Qing Dynasty, said in the poem.

And there is a story involved in this.

The protagonist of the story is Huang Tingjian, a character who was a mentor and friend of Su Dongpo during the Northern Song Dynasty.

It is said that he took a nap one day when he was Ren Zhizhou, and in his dream, he dreamed that he walked out of the yamen and came to a village, and saw an old woman set up an incense case to pray, and there was a bowl of celery noodles on the table, and Huang Tingjian ate it when he took it.

When I woke up, I still had the smell of celery in my mouth.

It's a strange dream, strange, but that's all.

However, the next day, Huang Tingjian had the same dream again!

Surprised, after waking up, Huang Tingjian followed the path in the dream, and then really came to a village, met the old woman in the dream, and inquired about it, and learned that yesterday was his daughter's death day, and then asked, his death day, that is, Huang Tingjian's birthday, and it was the same year.

If it stops there, it can be said that it is just a coincidence.

But then things developed more bizarrely, the girl loved to read before her death, and left a large bookcase with books, the cabinet was locked, and the old woman didn't know where the key was, but Huang Tingjian was like a tour, found the key, and opened the bookcase.

There are a lot of manuscripts in the bookcase, and the content of the manuscripts is very familiar to Huang Tingjian, he went all the way to study, and many manuscripts are exactly the same as here!

......

The truth of this story is indistinguishable, but judging from the fact that the various records in the wild history are often contradictory, it is very likely to be false, just like the story of Su Dongpo's sister Su Xiaomei. - There is no one else, there is nothing to do.

Xu Guangling's consciousness was flooded with this anecdote at this time, and what he thought about was not whether it was true or false.

Rather, it is a variety of bits and pieces from ancient times to the present, recorded or heard.

Starting from Confucius's "born to know", to the "talent is like heaven" of various juvenile prodigies, such as Fang Zhongyong, who was also in the Song Dynasty, is an example.

Judging from the fact that Huang Tingjian's story is suspected of being fabricated, this is an exact factual record, from Wang Anshi's "Hurt Zhongyong", of course, Wang Anshi may also be fabricated or deceived. — but it's probably not much.

"Jinxi Minfang Zhongyong, Shili Geng. Zhong Yongsheng has been alive for five years, and he has never tasted the book utensils, so he suddenly begged for it. The father is different, and he is close to him, that is, the four lines of the book and poem, and his own name. ”

Shili farming.

I don't know how to read books.

That is, four verses of the book poem, and its own name.

Taken together, these three descriptions show very succinctly but very concretely what it means to be "as gifted by God".

Not smart.

Not learned.

And that's —

Have innate knowledge!

To put it simply, some people are born with consciousness starting from a blank piece of paper, while some people are born with a basket of things, and once certain conditions match, the things in that basket will be triggered.

Before, Xu Guangling thought that such a fact was related to the situation of the Ito sisters, that is, they were born with extraordinary talents, and their top skills were different from ordinary people.

And now, what Jiantianjing said shows another possibility.

Xu Guangling stood quietly outside the town for a long time, until the wisps of white mist in that room slowly spread like smoke, from the room to the outside of the room, and then continued to spread little by little, until it completely dispersed and disappeared.

This process lasted about three days.

"What have those scattered fragments of consciousness become when they are scattered? The most primitive micro-energy that does not carry any information?" Xu Guangling suddenly remembered such a question.

"Nope".

"Like the leaves of a tree falling into the dirt?" After thinking about it, Xu Guangling asked again.

And this question has been affirmed by Jiantianjing.

"Yes".

When autumn and winter come, the leaves of the trees fall off one after another, fall to the ground, and decay or decompose into new soil little by little.

However, this soil is not soil in the general sense, it is a soil that has been pioneered and created, and has a lot of "active substances", and this soil, many of its components, can be used as direct raw materials to be absorbed by plants and trees.

When his thoughts turned to this, Xu Guangling was shocked and speechless again, or it could not be said to be shocked, but it was similar to numbness.

"Countless micro-fragments of consciousness shrouded in this heaven and earth, so ...... The more people there are, the more microfragments of consciousness there are, and the more they are absorbed by the newborn...... Therefore, the growth and evolution of human beings is a kind of superposition, and on such a basis, the overall development of human consciousness is in a kind of accelerated growth."

"Yes".

Xu Guangling was silent.

So, life or death......

Is life like the waves on the sea, the waves are constantly born and destroyed, and the waves are eternal.

No wave can be permanent, newborn, disappear quickly, and a new one blooms, but each new one is not completely new, but contains some elements of the old individual.

Life, in such a way, is interpreted one after another.

The old woman's chanting continued.

For three days, she did not eat, slept only a little bit of time each day, then chanted, and then, when she was extremely thirsty, drank only a small amount of water, and then continued.

On the third day, Xu Guangling witnessed the death of another old man in the town.

It should be related to this heavy snow or this cold weather, under the harsh climate, there are some old people whose lives are on the boundary line and can live or die, are dragged to the side of death.

This is the first time that Xu Guangling has witnessed a life from birth to death after becoming a great master.

In the middle of the night, in the midst of his sleep, at the moment when the old man was dying, his already sluggish, stiff, thin, and faintly scattered aura of life contracted violently as if it had been stimulated by some great stimulus.

The aura of life shrunk in an instant, condensed in an instant, and in an instant, from dim to bright, and may even be brighter than it has ever been in his life.

It's like the kerosene lamp of the old days, which suddenly bursts into flames.

However, just after this sudden eruption, the brightness was extinguished in an instant, and it was completely extinguished.

Along with this eruption and extinction came wisps of white mist rising from the bodies of the deceased, the so-called souls or fragments of consciousness.

It's like when the oil lamp goes out, and the smoke begins to disperse.

It seems that the aura of life has not been completely shattered, and the remaining part has turned into these white mist.

Looking at the white mist in another small room in the distance, Xu Guangling's expression was solemn and solemn.

Returning to the mottled and crumbling stone pile more than 100 kilometers away, Xu Guangling looked at it for a long time and looked at the stones one by one.

The stones, big and small, new and old, although the latest ones are dozens or hundreds of years old.

Each piece is engraved with handwriting, some of which are deep and clear with formal tools, and some of which may have only been cut with wood or sharp stones at the time, and the handwriting has been very blurred, and some have completely disappeared, leaving only a shallow imprint.

And the content of those handwritings, there are Sanskrit, Tibetan, and Chinese, and some of these characters are paragraphs of scriptures, some are only short sentences, and some are just one or two words.

"Well".

"Moo".

There are also "吽", as well as "貝", "be" and so on.

There are also some parts of the characters that are missing, and only the "cow" or "mouth" that is also a little mutilated remains.

Looking at these handwritings and looking at these stones, Xu Guangling seems to look at different moods and sustenance through the years, through the vicissitudes of life, through the mottled through smoke and dust, and oblivion.

Some pray for life, some mourn for death, and some bless.

Others, perhaps, are just expressions of a simple, human tribute to some mysterious existence.

"I'll take you by the hand"

"You follow me"

"Once you go, it's a lifetime"

From the field, Xu Guangling also summoned a stone, engraved such words in it, and then threw the new stone into the crumbling stone pile.

The old woman's husband.

When he was young, he was in the temple and followed the love poems learned by the master inside.

It is also the only poem in his life.

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