(Thank you for the tips of slow Langzhong, sauce beef and others, thank you!) Update delivered! ）

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A gust of night breeze blew in through the window panes, stirring the white curtains.

The winds on summer nights are all good, even if it is a hot wind, it can make people feel the flow of air, let you know that you are still alive, know hot and cold.

At this moment, there were more than a dozen broken Buddhist scriptures in the room, Lin Yi sat cross-legged so quietly, he tried his best to concentrate his mind, and his sensitive sense of smell spread, to pursue the fragrance of the Buddhist scriptures overflowing.

Lin Yi has been in this situation many times, and every time he smells the smell of books is different, apple-flavored, orange-flavored, and strawberry-flavored, not so much the smell of books, but the fresh fruit aroma.

But this time is different.

It's not the scent of fruit, it's the smell of sandalwood that can only be found in Buddhist halls.

A few wisps of sandalwood wafted in and drifted into Lin Yi's nose.

The faint sandalwood seems to be there and nothing, and it seems to be real and illusory, evoking Lin Yi's childhood memories. When Lin Yi's family was a child, they would put an incense altar on the night of the Chinese New Year's Eve, insert incense candles, and worship the omniscient and omnipresent god from afar. The piety of his parents did not bring much change to the family, he did not get rich, he did not get rich, and he was not really free from illness and disaster, but Lin Yi remembered this very good smell of sandalwood.

I don't know who said that the memory of taste can last a lifetime, for example, when you were a child you liked the scent of a soda or candy, then when you die, you will recall that smell. And that breath can instantly restore your childhood memories clearly.

Memories flash by, and in just five seconds, it's your whole life.

Of course, Lin Yi is not yet dead, but the memory of worshipping God as a child is extremely clear, as if it happened yesterday, he remembers every detail, every step, remembering that his father was wearing a black cotton jacket at the time, the left sleeve was torn, revealing white cotton, he was wearing really good pants, and under his feet was a pair of black-headed cotton shoes, the edges of the cotton shoes were stained with a lot of black mud, his eyes, his mouth, and the stubble under his mouth......

How many years have it been since his father died, and Lin Yi rarely remembers him, because he was still very young when he left, but now, Lin Yi remembers a qiē - he remembers that his father gave him the best piece of rice cake after worshipping God, remembers that he tussles the quilt for himself in the middle of the night, remembers that he sits at the head of the bed and rubs cold water on his forehead when he has a fever, remembers that he makes a grimace and makes himself laugh......

A wisp of sandalwood opened Lin Yi's heart, like a key to unlocking the lock, completely opening the door in Lin Yi's heart.

……

As the smell of sandalwood became heavier and heavier, the memories in Lin Yi's mind began to transform.

Dad disappeared, the plot of worshipping God was gone, and at this moment he seemed to be in a Buddhist hall, filled with smoke and singing.

Rows of pigtailed engravers bare-chested, washed their hands and faces with holy water, and then began to pick up carving knives and frantically engrave on the rows of wooden boards, and the words on the Buddhist scriptures were carved out and typeset, black ink, white rice paper, soft cotton paper...... The words of the Buddhist scriptures are printed, Amitabha Buddha, the reincarnation of cause and effect, and the four are empty......

The engraved Buddhist scriptures are treasured in the scripture building of the Buddhist temple and placed on the dazzling bookshelves.

Originally, a qiē was very beautiful, and there would be old monks, and the little monks would take them out from time to time, look at them, and recite them......

But time flashed, and there was a golden iron horse outside, and a river of blood volcanoes.

The monastery was breached, the monks fell into the fire one by one, a delicate little monk was dripping with blood, his eyes were very persistent, he ran to the scripture building, put those precious Buddhist scriptures in a sack, carried them on his back, over and over again, again and again, carefully hidden in the cave outside the temple, and then, pushed up the stone, sealed it.

Time passes.

The cave opened, and the little monk became a young man, still a monk, still staying in this temple, and he took out all the scriptures that were hidden with great interest, and stroked them like a relative, his eyes flashing with joy.

……

Time passed, and the originally peaceful life was once again shattered by artillery fire.

A team of devil soldiers occupied the temple, the young monk was beaten with a blue nose and swollen face, he vomited blood in his mouth, and had to hide his precious Buddhist scriptures in the cave again, but unfortunately, the original 3,000 volumes of Buddhist scriptures were only hidden more than 2,000 volumes, and the rest were snatched away after being searched by the devils.

Darkness, darkness again.

The darkness will pass.

When the light came again, the original little monk had become a middle-aged man. The Buddhist scriptures were carried out of the cave again, returned to the scripture building, and placed on the shelves again.

……

The times have changed, the new society has come, he thought that everything would be quiet, the temple was also being rebuilt, the previous artillery fire was no more, the sword soldiers were no more, and some were just the loneliness of the ancient temple in the mountain. There are not many monks in the temple, but they recite these Buddhist scriptures very seriously, and the sound of the Buddha is like smoke coming out of a chimney, drifting into the mountains and forests.

This quiet and beautiful life did not last long, to be precise, only ten years passed, and the world changed again. A group of Red Guards broke into this century-old temple and the Tibetan scripture building with great vigour, and they piled up all the scriptures they could find, shouted the slogan of "breaking the four olds", and went down to the fire, burning these precious books.

The Buddhist scriptures were crying, they were wailing in the fire, and at this time the little monk had become an old monk, he was hunched over, with muddy tears, and could only watch the Buddhist scriptures buried in the fire.

These Buddhist scriptures that he had touched and read were burning and ringing one by one, and the air was filled with the smell of burning books, and there was an indescribable sadness.

The old monk wanted to shed tears, but found that he could no longer shed them, his eyes were dry, and all he saw was darkness, endless darkness.

Of the more than 2,000 Buddhist scriptures, only more than 300 remained, and these were hidden by the monks of the monastery, who hid them in tree pits, in the cracks of walls, under stoves, and in birds' nests...... Some even hide in their waists, like children, like treasures, for others, what they hide is just a Buddhist scripture, but for themselves, what they hide is a kind of faith.

People can be destroyed, books can be destroyed, and faith cannot be lost!

……

Time has passed-

The old monk was in his last years, and he couldn't even walk anymore, and the turbulent world was quiet again, and the remaining Buddhist scriptures were put together again. The old monk did not call the people next to him, but took matters into his own hands, re-arranging those Buddhist scriptures one by one on the shelves, with gentle and gentle movements, like treating his dearest children...... As he coughed up blood and looked at the scriptures that had been rearranged on the shelves, his eyes were bright, just like the little monk he had been before.

The world became peaceful and prosperous, the temple was renovated, and all the dilapidated things were vacated and thrown away as garbage. The dusty, musty-smelling scriptures were also wasted, packed into sacks, and discarded in unattended garbage heaps......

……

Lin Yi's breathing became heavy, his eyes were closed, and his mind was condensed in the stories of these Buddhist scriptures, and from his nose, two puffs of green smoke came out leisurely, and the green smoke was like two smart little snakes, surrounding those broken Buddhist scriptures, turning into gentle little hands, gently touching them, comforting them, only to see those broken Buddhist scriptures slowly repaired, healed, and slowly glow with new life......

The aura exuded by Lin Yi absorbs the essence of these Buddhist scriptures, and at the same time washes the body of these broken Buddhist scriptures, which looks so peaceful, so harmonious, and so incredible.

……

I don't know how long it took, Lin Yi opened his eyes, only to feel that his whole body was full of indescribable comfort, and his spirit was incomparably full, but he saw a glimmer of light through the window, the sun came out, and the dawn came.

Under the sun, Lin Yi didn't notice that his cheeks were already stained with tears!