"I don't know if it's blood or soul, turn into a knife and cut the heart of the heart. Pen ~ Fun ~ Pavilion www.biquge.info"

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Han Ke skillfully put away the last pen, raised his dangling wrist, rubbed his sore fingertips, looked at the flowing handwriting on the rice paper with satisfaction, and nodded slightly.

The people around the desk turned their heads and whispered, and their faces couldn't help but be filled with praise. He carefully placed the wolf's quill on the inkstone, picked up the rice paper and blew it, trying to make the lightly scented ink stains dry quickly.

"How ......?" He asked with a smile.

Everyone nodded in unison, and clapped their hands in unison: "Presumably, the emperor in the capital will agree to me to open the South Pagoda and preach the Buddhist scriptures when he sees the letter of Senior Brother Han Ke." ”

Han Kejian's eyebrows frowned slightly, and the speed was covered up again very quickly, he smiled bitterly, and his long eyebrows tightened stretched: "This matter will trouble you senior brothers." He clenched his fists and bowed slightly, his attitude modest and respectful.

Everyone was stunned when they heard this, looked at each other, didn't know what he was selling, and frowned suspiciously. Qingyan's raised eyelids slowly raised, and he stared intently at Han Ke, who was still pretending to be calm on the face in front of him, which had become old, and sighed slowly regretfully.

Looking at his usual state, I always thought that he had broken free from the war filled with gunpowder, but it turned out that he was hiding too deeply, so deep that all the beliefs were true.

Qingyan stretched out his hand and took the rice paper that had been air-dried, read it carefully, folded it carefully, and said calmly: "It's not a big deal, don't worry, we'll do it." He bowed his head slightly and gave him a reassuring look.

Han Ke answered in a low voice, lowered his eyebrows, and hid the emotions on his face.

Qingyan waved his hand elegantly, and everyone around the table said goodbye one after another, and the fish came out. He glanced back at Han Ke who was sitting down meaningfully, and thoughtfully, a feeling of powerlessness filled his chest, and his chest was depressed and uncomfortable.

Before he could withdraw his thoughts, he felt that the hem of his sleeves was pulled by a force, he turned his head to look at the culprit, Qingyu Junyi's face was at a loss, his eyes fell on the dejected Han Ke in the room, his palm-sized face frowned slightly, raised his head, blinked his black and white eyes, his thin lips moved slightly, and he lowered his voice and said: "Senior brother, don't you think he has ......"

"Shhhhh......h Qingyu understood, nodded slightly, and turned to leave.

Qingyan raised his foot and stepped out of the low threshold of the scar of the grinding Dao, hooked the door with his fingertips, and gently helped him close the door.

In the pavilion, the breeze blows slowly, the clothes are blown out of creases, the air is filled with a crisp smell, there is still the white snow that has not melted in the distance, the golden sun bathes the thick snow on the eaves, and the hazy mist envelops the entire Temple of Mercy and Grace.

Qingyu rubbed his red fingers, most of the worn monk's shoes were soaked, his numb toes curled together, and he ran back and forth with small broken steps.

"So cold?"

"Yes...... Oh, yes! I don't know why I feel like it's been cold this year. Qingyu's feet stopped, Junyi's face flushed slightly, and he gasped slightly.

After a pause, he sat down on the stone bench next to Qingyan, put his fingertips to his mouth and snorted hot, rubbing his fingers against each other: "Senior brother, what's wrong with Master Hanke?" ”

Qingyan stretched out his hand and poked his head, with a warm smile on his face: "Just your kid's sharp eyes, do you think there's something wrong with him?" ”

"If he encountered something on weekdays, he would have done it actively, but today, when he wrote the letter, he was unwilling to take the last step." Qing Yu's feet stomped heavily on the blue-gray stone bricks a few times, pursed the corners of his mouth, and guessed: "Ah, could it be that he can't accept the entry of the Qing army now?" ”

Cough...... Qingyan covered the corners of his mouth and snorted heavily, but did not refute, but reprimanded with a straight face: "Don't talk nonsense about this kind of thing in the future." ”

Qingyu stuck out his tongue and continued with a frown: "What should I do then?" This is a foregone conclusion, and it cannot be changed by one person. He poked his chin and pondered, "How can I keep him from running away from this?" ”

"Don't waste your efforts, it's useless." Qingyan touched the top of his bare head, his gaze fell on the boundless, cloudy sky outside the pavilion, and sighed slowly.

"Why?" Qingyu spread his hands and asked puzzled.

"This matter has already grown a cancer in his body, and if it is forcibly punctured, the poisonous gas will definitely spread, from the spirit to the body, and slowly decay." His gaze darkened, and he explained worriedly.

A few words, but a helpless compromise had already been revealed from his demeanor, Qingyu didn't speak, just lowered his head slightly at a loss, making it impossible to see the expression on his face.

In 1652, in March of the ninth year of Shunzhi in the Qing Dynasty, Han Ke and the monks of the major monasteries in Shengjing jointly wrote a letter, requesting the opening of the South Pagoda (Guangci Temple) to preach Buddhism.

Spring goes to autumn, and the white horse passes through the gap.

Han Ke slowly opened his eyes, moved his body slightly, trying to change a comfortable position, his eyes gradually converged in his black pupils, he suddenly felt that he was in excellent spirits today, struggled to get up, approved a monk's robe outside, moved his heavy steps, and staggered out of the house.

His thin fingertips climbed on the buckle, the wooden door of the simply decorated meditation room was slowly opened, and a fresh fragrance came to his nose, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and suddenly felt that he was in a good mood, and the muscles and bones of his whole body gradually relaxed. A dry breeze blew in through the open door, and Han Ke couldn't help but tuck the monk's robe draped over his body, unbuttoned his robes. A mischievous breeze swirled around him, burrowing through the slit of his clothes, goosebumps rising all over his body, and he clenched his hands into fists and rubbed his arms gently.

The bright sun poured down, bathing his body, illuminating the whole person lazily.

He bowed slightly, found a clean stone pier and sat down slowly, his eyes looked far away, the boundless sky was cloudy, and he still did not stop working.

A golden ginkgo leaf floated in mid-air like butterfly wings, the corners of his mouth were slightly hooked, his eyebrows were filled with a soft smile, and he slowly poked out his thin fingertips, and the fallen leaves seemed to be attracted, floating over, lying quietly in his furrowed palm.

Distant memories came flooding up in confusion, like an old movie being played, frame by frame clearly came to mind, he slowly closed his eyes, and his palm hanging in the air finally hung down weakly. The monk's robe draped over his shoulders slipped off and lay alone on the ground, blown away by a gust of wind.

In 1660, Han Ke died at Shengjing Golden Pagoda Temple. His face was serene, with a faint smile carved on his face, and his thin fingertips were clenched tightly, and a golden ginkgo leaf could be faintly seen inside.