In the year 1010 of the solar calendar, February 14.

Far north, Qingcheng.

This is a very short and sad story, and the source of the sadness is undoubtedly caused by the young age of the person concerned, although in the eyes of the person concerned, that dreamlike day is indispensable in life, but, judging from the ending, it is sad.

It's a story that takes place in the spring.

When the spring breeze gently rises, the glaciers of the extreme north have melted away, and the willows have just revealed the tender buds of the season, everything looks beautiful and beautiful, and even the clear blue sky is quiet and refreshing.

In this ancient city called Qingcheng, this land shrouded in auspiciousness, the life of the monks is undoubtedly harmonious and beautiful, if there is really a pure land in the world, then here is the true abbreviation of this word.

It's such a happy place.

If it weren't for the desperate catastrophe, this would still be such a beautiful place. I like to watch quietly, the weeping willows by the stream are so free to swagger, the red mist surging on the Qinghe River is so misty, and even the sound of children playing and chasing on the street.

Everything is so harmonious and quiet.

I love this area from the bottom of my heart.

But, the same.

I am unlucky, and therefore unlucky, in fact, there is no reason. He is extremely rare, and even rare, and he can't cultivate the Tao.

She is the daughter of the city lord of Qingcheng, but she was born unable to cultivate the Dao, and she is destined to have no chance with the Dao. It is a person who has been denied by the way of heaven, and he doesn't know why. In this world, even the lowest level of people will have spiritual roots and cultivation.

To say that there is no spiritual root, there is no trace of heroic cultivation, it is like a fool to talk about a dream, the Arabian Nights. In the era when the monks are about to replace the human race, one can imagine how dark their future will be.

It was a nightmare that I couldn't even think about.

But it's still the daughter of the city lord.

Although there is no bullying in childhood, it is not easy either. Thanks to those gossips, I made my closest family, brother and sister, father and mother.

It's no different from a stranger.

Symbolic warmth to ward off the cold, symbolic protection of oneself, symbolic companionship of oneself......

Yes, thanks to those gossips.

It makes itself wiser and more rational early on, and its mind is more delicate and calm. All this is what they deserve, and who can't let themselves step into the avenue.

The future, for me, is something like a nightmare. Even at this moment, the warm sunshine of spring makes itself so cold.

I can't accept the misfortune that the so-called fate has forced on me, but what can I do if I can't accept it. Do you confide in your so-called father and mother? They will definitely talk to them and then forget about them.

For them, they are so dispensable.

It's just a piece of waste that can't set foot on the road.

I can't feel the slightest warmth of myself, everything is cold.

Whether it's rumors, injustice, identity, whatever. The young self just wanted to escape from that palace, the palace that disturbed him. I'm afraid that the maids are talking about how genius and evil my brother and sister are, and I'm afraid that when they mention themselves, their faces will be silently mocking and refreshing.

Happiness is based on the suffering of others.

But, even so.

I was still immature, and I didn't get anything that I thought was substantial. Far more noble than ordinary people, the noble background brings me autism, and the treasures of heaven and earth, which are far more precious than anything, bring me only resentment and longing.

However, the object of resentment can only be relatives, and the only object that can be confided in is relatives, but the most perfunctory object is still relatives.

It's all warm.

It's so warm that it's hopeless.

Every time my brother and sister attend major occasions, I can only stay in my own courtyard, accompanied only by the blooming flowers and the birds flying to the sky.

That's something I envy deeply.

As a child, he spent his childhood in a haze.

After that, when I entered the school, I deeply understood that in this world, as long as there are people, there will be no place for me to live safely.

Such an easy-to-understand truth, such a clear and straightforward fact. Facts are facts, they cannot be changed and will not be changed. No matter where you go, the result is the same. It's just like being treated as an anomaly.

Just like a group of normal people and a fool, that fool will only become the object of bullying, and the evildoer will not have any psychological burden, after all, the life of a fool is sad.

Every time I sat in my seat, everyone's eyes were always full of strangeness, including the teacher. Although she is the daughter of the city lord, she has not suffered any face-to-face, physical and verbal abuse. However, even that kind of gaze is not something that a weak self can bear.

The only thing I can do is to ignore it. Ignoring the perfunctory behavior of his father and mother, ignoring the hypocrisy of his brother and sister, ignoring the happy eyes of others, and ignoring the strong denial of himself in the world.

This shameless act is tantamount to being cheeky and being scolded by thousands of people, which is the same. Again, this is the only thing you can do, and there is nothing else you can do. If you want to survive, you have to accept the environment you are in.

Even if it is dim, it will melt into the night. If it were the sea, it would be nice to be a fish. It's such a simple and harmonious truth.

As long as you are cheeky, pretend to be quiet and far-reaching, and don't care about all utilitarian avenues. As long as you are gentle enough, as long as you are cold-blooded enough, as long as you treat everything like an ant.

Yes, everything is just a supporting role for yourself, just think about the flowers in your own courtyard, the beautiful flowers, are the supporting roles in your life, what is the difference between these delicate flowers and my brother and sister.

It's just a supporting role,

However, he has no identity after all.

So what.

I didn't know this, and I spent several years of spring, summer, and winter.

At a certain moment, I suddenly found that the hypocritical mask that I covered with my own hands could not be removed, yes, I obtained the state of mind of the sage, and I really achieved tranquility and far-reaching,

All things exist and are reasonable.

I am like the high clear sky, without joy or sorrow, quietly accommodating all injustice and sorrow. Quietly gaze at all the joyful faces, love. Quietly tell your own story.

That gentleness is undoubtedly the most beautiful thing in the world, like the sunlight in the bud season, it makes people's minds clear, without distractions, and they just want to quietly enjoy the rare silence.

Speaking of which, I am really sad.

Now, I can smile and make fun of myself.

It's like looking at someone else.

It's not that he is desperate for his life, but that he is gentle like a sage, with an unfluctuating mentality, to face all injustice and gloom.

It's just indifferent.

Like a flower that has never spoken.

It's just quietly blooming.

Gazing at the floating clouds and the birds soaring in the sky beyond. The picture is undoubtedly extremely beautiful and harmonious, which makes people believe. Life is colorful.

There are many ways for human beings to live, and there is no doubt that what monks are pursuing is eternal life, which is almost the dream of trillions of monks, but so far, no one has reached the realm of eternal life. However, even so, in the torrent of history, no one has stopped.

Just like yourself.

Even if you can't step into the avenue.

Even in this world, there is no doubt that he is an outlier. Exclusion and rejection are a matter of course. Everything is reasonable, so reasonable that everyone thinks it should be so. Yes, that's the norm.

It's common sense.

The thing called common sense is deeply rooted in the monk's heart and is enshrined as the truth, and no one can deny it. If you are hungry, you should eat, if your desire is inflated, you should snatch it, and if you don't have anything to eat, you will starve to death.

That's a plain and desperate truth.

Livestock should be kept in captivity, and the goal of longevity has been reached. I don't even think about how miserable this kind of behavior is. However, in order to survive better, this is reasonable.

That's right, it's reasonable.

Deep down, I am glad that I am such a strong race, and I don't have to be enslaved, and I yearn for the days of freedom, and the days of peace and indifference.

What is the difference in nature?

It's all in the common sense of infinite loops, because it's too idle, so I'm just going to find something to have some fun. Everyone is so ignorant, so ignorant that they are so strong.

If there really is fairness and justice in the world, then I am afraid that the heinous crimes committed by the monks would have been exterminated a hundred times.

It's a pity that fate is unfair and heaven is unkind.

The monk is still alive and well in this world, and he is getting stronger and stronger.

Existence is reasonable.

The same is true for himself, the injustice he encounters, that is the encounter, he can only sigh at his own injustice, and in addition, it is quiet and far-reaching. It can only be quiet and far-reaching.

It's so simple, but it conforms to the rules of the Heavenly Dao.

If asked, there are rules.

Yes, where do the rules exist, the restraint exists in the heart, and if there are good thoughts in the heart, it is not to be starved to death, or to be bullied to death, or to become the object of food for other species.

Just when he was so quiet and far-reaching, so indifferent to the point of indifference.

In the season of young shoots, in the afternoon of a certain day, I saw it, the same as myself, as if it was a replica of myself, it was beautiful to dream, what I dreamed of, it was the same kind of taste.

It was a teenager who sat powerlessly by the intersection of the streets.

There was a dead silence and despair in his eyes, and he was gloomy.

There is no cultivation.

A person who is more unfortunate than himself.