"How's Luosan Luoge?"

"Still bedridden. Pen "Fun" Pavilion www.biquge.info"

The little lama pushed open the door and stopped to look inside, where Lobsang was lying on the bed, and the thin futon was draped over his body, only the thin thickness of which was gathered up.

Since that day, his condition has become worse and worse, and for some reason, he always feels that Rohsan's situation seems to have something to do with the burning candles.

The candles that had been offered in front of the temple had been placed in the woman's room, and they had been burning continuously, and they were slowly and gradually running out.

But before that, even in the three years he came, although they were indeed burning, the lamp oil had not diminished at all, and it was still the appearance of those half-lengths and not short-term, and he had a bad guess when he thought of the situation of Luosang Luoge.

Death is something that everyone must experience, but for him, a mortal disciple, he still can't put life and death out of the way.

The other young lamas would sit on their knees outside Lobsang at the door of Lobsang after their morning lessons, chanting or debating, sometimes even bored, but there was not much sadness on their faces.

"He's going to die."

Su Lingyu was packing up her things, and when she heard the words, she turned around and glanced at each other.

"Come here." Cheng Qinghe was half-lying on the couch, still holding the child in her arms, and when he walked over, she had already sat up.

The little lama crouched down in front of her, and looked around at the dense circle of candle flames, the red wax was almost burned out, and around the core was a circle of colorless liquid, most of which would disappear in a few days.

He looked up at the gentle woman, his eyes flushing uncontrollably.

"He's really going to die." He buried his head in her lap, choking and breathless.

Big tears soaked her skirt, Cheng Qinghe looked down, his eyes were extremely gentle, as if he was infected by his appearance, and a little more sad, so he raised his hand and touched his bare head.

"I'll go see him." She stood up.

She was flying in a crony, with a sleeping baby in her arms, and her countenance was as calm as water, and when the lamas who were guarding in front of Lobsang Log's gate saw her coming, they sat upright, chanting something in unison, putting their hands together on the ground, and then lowering their heads against the backs of their hands.

She approached in the midst of the crowd of lying in the middle of the battle, and gently pushed open the door of Losan's room.

As she sat on the edge of the bed, as if sensing something, Rousanne opened her eyes.

Somehow, Na Rousanne's eyes turned red when he saw her, and this time was no exception.

Cheng Qinghe smiled at him, and then sent the child to his pillow, only a few days after she was born, she faded her red color and became white and cute.

As if she hadn't slept well, she moved her feet with her eyes closed, and waved her small fist like a lotus root.

Rosango watched her movements in silence, and then as if he had come to life, his obscure gaze lit up, and he struggled to sit up.

The little lama standing outside the door had not yet wiped away the tears on his face, and informed him of his intentions, so he hurriedly ran in to help him and put a pillow behind him.

Luosang Luoge breathed a sigh of relief, looked at Cheng Qinghe, looked at the child next to him, and asked.

"He said she hadn't been named yet?"

"Never."

"If you don't mind, can Luosang Luoge give her a nickname?"

Cheng Qinghe turned around on the expectant faces of the two, and nodded gently.

Lobsang Luoge showed a relieved expression and nodded at the little lama.

"Jigme, in our language, means fearless."

"Jimi, okay."

Seeing Qinghe's approval, Luo Sang seemed to have his last wish, and he also took away the last breath.

The little lama looked at it and couldn't help but step forward and hug him.

Rousanne's withered fingers froze for a moment, then patted him on the back, his body sinking gradually.

"The candlelight is gone out there." Yu Hui came quickly.

Cheng Qinghe looked over, turned around and slowly squeezed the withered palm that he had landed on his side in the palm of his hand.

He was placed on a pillow, his mouth slightly open to the sky, and his soul returned to the sky.

The peach blossoms at the foot of the mountain were scattered in a few moments, and soon after, even the remnants of the flowers that fell to the ground were annihilated to ashes.

The old man pestle the hoe, the other end of which was still buried in the dirt, and he sighed almost inaudibly as he watched the fleeting change, and then pulled the hoe out.

The cool breeze blew the grass clippings on Longding Mountain, and the old man carried it, blowing an unfinished tune, and gradually disappeared in the dappled light and shadow with the sunlight on his back.

Luosang passed away, the living Buddha returned to the sky, and after a fire was burned, the lamas packed up one by one, and left Longding Mountain without nostalgia with their bags.

They don't know where to go, but as long as they keep walking, they'll find a place to stay. In their lifetime, they will wait for him to be reincarnated.

But one day, people went to the empty building on Longding Mountain, and now it is really silent, and the flat ground makes people feel depressed.

But there was also a little lama who stayed behind and took a broom early in the morning to sweep the debris and dust from the ground.

"We're going back." Cheng Qinghe walked over with a ball-like baby: "Do you want to go back with us?" ”

The wind in the mountains is strong, and the hot summer wind here also brings a bit of coolness, blowing until the leaves rattle, and she hurriedly covered the small glutinous rice dumplings tightly with a monk's robe.

The wind blew her white hair flying, as if she was going to ride the wind back, like an immortal.

The little lama hurriedly lowered his head, not daring to look directly.

"Luosang is here, and the palace also needs to be taken care of." He said softly, but in a very firm tone.

"Now that you've made up your mind, I'm no longer reluctant. Take care. ”

She bowed her head, and the little lama looked at her back as she faded away, and once again performed a Buddhist salute, even if she couldn't see it.

"You haven't chosen her a name yet." Su Ling followed.

"Let's call it Jimei, and then take a nickname."

Her meaning is that the name is so decided, and she remembers Luosan's affection in her heart, since God chose to let her give birth to her here, she must be related to him, if it weren't for Luosan, their mother and daughter would not be so peaceful and joyful.

He deserves it.

A year later......

At the time of the storm, Longhu Mountain was greatly shortened to two years because of the great creation, and the original three-year election was greatly shortened.

Longhu Mountain is short of people, and it is very short, if it continues for a long time, I am afraid that there will be no successor!

But unlike in previous years, if you want to become a disciple of Longhu Mountain, you can only be a member of the four major families.

Wait for a refresh

"How's Luosan Luoge?"

"Still bedridden."

The little lama pushed open the door and stopped to look inside, where Lobsang was lying on the bed, and the thin futon was draped over his body, only the thin thickness of which was gathered up.

Since that day, his condition has become worse and worse, and for some reason, he always feels that Rohsan's situation seems to have something to do with the burning candles.

The candles that had been offered in front of the temple had been placed in the woman's room, and they had been burning continuously, and they were slowly and gradually running out.

But before that, even in the three years he came, although they were indeed burning, the lamp oil had not diminished at all, and it was still the appearance of those half-lengths and not short-term, and he had a bad guess when he thought of the situation of Luosang Luoge.

Death is something that everyone must experience, but for him, a mortal disciple, he still can't put life and death out of the way.

The other young lamas would sit on their knees outside Lobsang at the door of Lobsang after their morning lessons, chanting or debating, sometimes even bored, but there was not much sadness on their faces.

"He's going to die."

Su Lingyu was packing up her things, and when she heard the words, she turned around and glanced at each other.

"Come here." Cheng Qinghe was half-lying on the couch, still holding the child in her arms, and when he walked over, she had already sat up.

The little lama crouched down in front of her, and looked around at the dense circle of candle flames, the red wax was almost burned out, and around the core was a circle of colorless liquid, most of which would disappear in a few days.

He looked up at the gentle woman, his eyes flushing uncontrollably.

"He's really going to die." He buried his head in her lap, choking and breathless.

Big tears soaked her skirt, Cheng Qinghe looked down, his eyes were extremely gentle, as if he was infected by his appearance, and a little more sad, so he raised his hand and touched his bare head.

"I'll go see him." She stood up.

She was flying in a crony, with a sleeping baby in her arms, and her countenance was as calm as water, and when the lamas who were guarding in front of Lobsang Log's gate saw her coming, they sat upright, chanting something in unison, putting their hands together on the ground, and then lowering their heads against the backs of their hands.

She approached in the midst of the crowd of lying in the middle of the battle, and gently pushed open the door of Losan's room.

As she sat on the edge of the bed, as if sensing something, Rousanne opened her eyes.

Somehow, Na Rousanne's eyes turned red when he saw her, and this time was no exception.

Cheng Qinghe smiled at him, and then sent the child to his pillow, only a few days after she was born, she faded her red color and became white and cute.

As if she hadn't slept well, she moved her feet with her eyes closed, and waved her small fist like a lotus root.

Rosango watched her movements in silence, and then as if he had come to life, his obscure gaze lit up, and he struggled to sit up.

The little lama standing outside the door had not yet wiped away the tears on his face, and informed him of his intentions, so he hurriedly ran in to help him and put a pillow behind him.

Luosang Luoge breathed a sigh of relief, looked at Cheng Qinghe, looked at the child next to him, and asked.

"He said she hadn't been named yet?"

"Never."

"If you don't mind, can Luosang Luoge give her a nickname?"

Cheng Qinghe turned around on the expectant faces of the two, and nodded gently.

Lobsang Luoge showed a relieved expression and nodded at the little lama.

"Jigme, in our language, means fearless."

"Jimi, okay."

Seeing Qinghe's approval, Luo Sang seemed to have his last wish, and he also took away the last breath.

The little lama looked at it and couldn't help but step forward and hug him.

Rousanne's withered fingers froze for a moment, then patted him on the back, his body sinking gradually.

"The candlelight is gone out there." Yu Hui came quickly.

Cheng Qinghe looked over, turned around and slowly squeezed the withered palm that he had landed on his side in the palm of his hand.

He was placed on a pillow, his mouth slightly open to the sky, and his soul returned to the sky.

The peach blossoms at the foot of the mountain were scattered in a few moments, and soon after, even the remnants of the flowers that fell to the ground were annihilated to ashes.

The old man pestle the hoe, the other end of which was still buried in the dirt, and he sighed almost inaudibly as he watched the fleeting change, and then pulled the hoe out.

The cool breeze blew the grass clippings on Longding Mountain, and the old man carried it, blowing an unfinished tune, and gradually disappeared in the dappled light and shadow with the sunlight on his back.

Luosang passed away, the living Buddha returned to the sky, and after a fire was burned, the lamas packed up one by one, and left Longding Mountain without nostalgia with their bags.

They don't know where to go, but as long as they keep walking, they'll find a place to stay. In their lifetime, they will wait for him to be reincarnated.

But one day, people went to the empty building on Longding Mountain, and now it is really silent, and the flat ground makes people feel depressed.

But there was also a little lama who stayed behind and took a broom early in the morning to sweep the debris and dust from the ground.

"We're going back." Cheng Qinghe walked over with a ball-like baby: "Do you want to go back with us?" ”

The wind in the mountains is strong, and the hot summer wind here also brings a bit of coolness, blowing until the leaves rattle, and she hurriedly covered the small glutinous rice dumplings tightly with a monk's robe.

The wind blew her white hair flying, as if she was going to ride the wind back, like an immortal.

The little lama hurriedly lowered his head, not daring to look directly.

"Luosang is here, and the palace also needs to be taken care of." He said softly, but in a very firm tone.

"Now that you've made up your mind, I'm no longer reluctant. Take care. ”

She bowed her head, and the little lama looked at her back as she faded away, and once again performed a Buddhist salute, even if she couldn't see it.

"You haven't chosen her a name yet." Su Ling followed.

"Let's call it Jimei, and then take a nickname."

Her meaning is that the name is so decided, and she remembers Luosan's affection in her heart, since God chose to let her give birth to her here, she must be related to him, if it weren't for Luosan, their mother and daughter would not be so peaceful and joyful.

He deserves it.

A year later......

At the time of the storm, Longhu Mountain was greatly shortened to two years because of the great creation, and the original three-year election was greatly shortened.

There is a shortage of people in Longhu Mountain, and there is a shortage of something