"Boom! Boom! Knock ......"

At five o'clock in the morning, the bell of the monastery for morning classes rang.

Xu Zhimo tiptoed up, and before he could get out of the door of the monk's house, he suddenly heard his father's voice: "Where are you going?" ”

"Morning class." Xu Zhimo said extremely depressed.

Xu Shenru instructed: "Ah Jin, Ah Cheng, you follow the young master." ”

The two young men who slept in the monk's house immediately got up yawning and followed behind Xu Zhimo.

Xu Zhimo was about to go crazy, he wanted to escape several times, but he was blocked by his father and others, and now he is even being watched by people when he goes to the toilet.

In summer, it dawns early, and although it is only five o'clock, the morning sun has already risen above the horizon.

Xu Zhimo greeted the morning light, washed up and went to the main hall. The air in the mountains and forests is exceptionally fresh, and the grass on the side of the road is still covered with dewdrops, and there is a smell of earth in all directions.

"Chirp!"

A few birds are jumping between the bamboo branches, and the crisp chirping is staggered, as if a symphony is being performed.

Breathing in the fresh air, Xu Zhimo suddenly felt refreshed, and his depression suddenly disappeared. He had rarely experienced this kind of mountain pleasure before, until he moved to Xiangfu Zen Temple, and suddenly realized how bad his previous life was.

Even if you don't become a monk, it's good to live in seclusion here, how carefree!

Monks continued to enter the hall, and the abbot Zhongyong was sitting at the front, knocking on the wooden fish to lead the monks to recite ten small mantras. Xu Zhimo walked next to a monk, sat cross-legged on the futon, and recited with the final monk: "There is no Buddha in the south, there is no Dharma in the south, there is no Sanghaya in the south, and there is no Bodhisattva Mahasattva in the south." Those who have great compassion will be the nephew of him. Om, cut off the ......"

Although there were only a dozen monks, the sound of chanting the scriptures was humming, and the convergence was like a lullaby.

Ah Jin and Ah Cheng, who were in charge of guarding Xu Zhimo, had not woken up at all, they sat there and listened for a while, and suddenly fell asleep, and they had already forgotten the task arranged by the master to the clouds.

Xu Zhimo wanted to take the opportunity to slip away, but he heard Master Zhongyong say to him: "Jingqing, you come with me!" ”

"Jingqing" is Xu Zhimo's name as a layman, and he gave it to himself, probably because he felt that he was too irritable to live before, and he wanted to be quiet and quiet.

When the two of them came to a clean room, Venerable Zhongyong asked, "Your family and friends have gathered here for a few days, do you still want to become a monk?" ”

Xu Zhimo said: "I have decided to become a monk, and as for my relatives and friends, they will disperse." ”

The Mean Mage shook his head and said, "Definitely." You just want to escape from the world, and you don't have the heart to the Buddha at all, which is the fundamental reason why I don't want to shave you. ”

Xu Zhimo said: "I want to cut off the fate of the earth, and becoming a monk is the best way." ”

"You're running away." The middle mean mage's eyes were like torches, staring at Xu Zhimo's eyes.

Xu Zhimo seemed to be being seen through his thoughts, and he was speechless for a while, lowered his head and stopped talking.

Master Zhongyong explained: "Go ahead, face up to the troubles and sorrows of life, and blindly avoid it is not the way. ”

"I'll think about it again." Xu Zhimo said.

"Then you just think about it slowly and don't rush." The Mean Mage laughed. Although the tranquility of Xiangfu Temple was broken, Xu Zhimo's father not only donated 3,000 catties of rice and 500 catties of sesame oil, but also promised to pay for the repair of several side halls.

The monks made a fortune.

You must know that although there are hundreds of acres of temple fields in Xiangfu Temple, most of them are some mountainous areas with low yield. Sixteen monks and tenant farmers worked hard, and only 30,000 catties of grain were harvested every year, at least half of which belonged to the tenant farmers - no way, the grain production in the mountains was too low, and the tenant farmers would starve to death if the tenant rents were high.

Is 15,000 catties of food a lot?

According to 1.5 catties of grain per person per day, 16 monks will eat 8,760 catties in a year, which has consumed most of them. The rest of the grain has to be exchanged for money to buy oil, salt and cloth, and there is very little left over every year.

It's good to encounter a good year, but if there is a flood and drought disaster, the monks have to go down the mountain to change their fate.

By the way, it is normal for each person to have 1.5 catties of food per day, because the less oil and water, the more people will eat. What's more, the output of mountainous areas is dominated by sweet potatoes, corn and other grains, and those things will vomit if they eat too much.

Even if Zhou Hexuan and the others don't come to persuade Xu Zhimo to go down the mountain and let Xu Zhimo eat corn paste and sweet potato porridge every day in the temple, it is estimated that he will last for two or three months at most, and Xu Zhimo will be hungry to go down the mountain to fight tooth sacrifices.

Not everyone is Li Shutong, who can change from a rich boy to an ascetic who only drinks a bowl of porridge every day.

After the morning class, Xu Zhimo went to eat with the monks.

Very thin corn paste porridge, mixed with a little rice, and a plate of pickled radish, Xu Zhimo drank two large bowls.

This thing doesn't care about being full at all, and it's going to be hungry in the middle of the morning.

Poor Xu Da Poet has only lived in the mountain for a few days, and he has lost almost ten pounds, which is really a good way to lose weight.

Zhou Hexuan and the others played mahjong too late yesterday, and they slept one by one at this time. Xu Zhimo ran to take a few looks, then carried a bucket and went to the field with the monks - the corn sown in spring was about to be tasseled, and it was a critical time.

Due to the dry weather and the lack of chemical fertilizers, this situation must be watered with corn headwater, otherwise this year's corn yield will inevitably be reduced, or even die directly.

No one forced Xu Zhimo to work, but he took the initiative to follow the work, perhaps because he wanted to numb himself with fatigue.

Everyone else was carrying a bucket full of water, but Xu Zhimo only had difficulty picking up half a bucket of water, and his shoulders were throbbing. When he came to the cornfield, more than a dozen monks and dozens of tenant farmers had already been working for a long time. Tenant farmers, in particular, leave their homes almost at dawn and return home when the sun is high, and the weather is too hot to suffer from heat stroke.

"Eh, don't pour so much. Like me, it is enough to pour water in the corn coop, one scoop at a time. A young monk corrected.

"Oh, oh, I see." Xu Zhimo feels that he is a waste person who is not diligent and does not distinguish between grains and grains.

The rough corn leaves quickly cut Xu Zhimo's exposed skin. The sweat was running down, the taste was itchy and painful, and he was so anxious that he kept scratching it with his fingers, and his whole neck was full of scratches.

Xu Zhimo picked up the water three times in a row, and was so tired that he was dizzy, and finally waited for the leading monk to call it a day.

At this time, it was already half past ten in the morning, the sun was very poisonous, and if I continued to do it, I would suffer from heat stroke.

Xu Zhimo returned to the temple with a bucket, and saw several people walking up the mountain on crutches on the way, two of which were Liang Sicheng and Lin Huiyin.

Xu Zhimo didn't want to make contact with them, so he immediately quickened his pace.

Lin Huiyin was sharp-eyed, pointed at Xu Zhimo and said, "Sicheng, is it Shima who is carrying the bucket?" ”

"Probably not, he never works." Liang Sicheng muttered.

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