Miaokong also came out to see, and the middle-aged man saw a monk coming to the house, and smiled at him: "Master, sin, sin, in order to make a living, our three masters have killed." ”

"Donor, each person has his own fate. Living beings also have their own destiny. Myoka said with his hands folded.

The two young men were dressed in single clothes, with hemp ropes tied around their waists and bast shoes under their feet. I went around the kitchen and came out, "Grandpa, the meal is not good?" ”

"Soon, right away." Grandpa went to pour washing water for his grandson.

Miaokong thought of the child he had never met, and wondered if the mother and child were safe? The old man stayed at home for a night, and Miaokong readily agreed.

In the past few days, he has been drinking wind and drinking dew and sleeping on the streets. Myokora is blessed to have a bed to sleep in tonight.

Lying on the bed at night, although it is a hard bed, he also sleeps softly and comfortably. The Light Palace's Mansion in the Imperial Palace seems to be a matter of the previous life.

Miaokong slept until dawn, and his dreams did not come to visit him. The old man brought egg custard and millet rice.

Ordinary home-cooked meals, or rather, egg custard for the old uncle's family is also a luxury food. Myoka just ate millet rice, and didn't move a bite of egg custard.

The old man sincerely persuaded the meal, "Master, you still have to hurry, and your body can't bear it without nutrition." This is all a product of my own family, and it is not rare and worth a few dollars. Serve hot. ”

He and the old man knew each other all their lives, but the old man treated him like a loving father. When he was five years old, his father was poisoned by eunuchs. For the memory of father's love, save a little bit bits and pieces.

Miaokong's eyes were a little sour, not because of a bowl of egg custard, but because of the sincerity and kindness of the people in this land. Myoka's tears fell into the bowl, and he ate the rice with the tears.

Before Miaokong left, the old man put ten boiled eggs in his package. Myoka took out the egg and put it back.

The old man said: "The old man worships the master in accordance with the will of the Buddha. ”

Miaokong asked, "Uncle, can you tell the poor monk your name?" The poor monk just wanted to pray for his uncle more when he worshipped the Buddha. ”

Miaokong put an egg in the package, bowed deeply to the old man, and said goodbye to the old man and went on the road again. Zhou Fu, Zhou Fu, Miaokong silently recited the name of the old man.

When a person is penniless and only has a rice bowl to accompany him, that kind of taste is only known to the person concerned.

Miaokong walked for five or six days and came to a post station, and Miao Kong lingered outside the post station for a while, but still walked in.

He believed that if he stood in front of his mother at this moment, his mother would not recognize him. And how much more about others. He is not worried about his identity being revealed.

The messenger was busy with the official errand when he saw a pickled monk walking in from outside. Wave at him, "Walk away." The officer said.

He was not a devout Buddhist, and he didn't want to be courteous to the people in front of the Buddha's throne.

Myoka can open his mouth and beg believers for charity these days. He didn't care about the attitude of the servants, so he stepped forward with a rice bowl, folded his hands and saluted, and said, "Donor, please give porridge and rice to the poor monks." ”

Monk Miaokong stood in front of the errand with a rice bowl in his hand, "I have served you." The officer muttered.

He walked out and quickly turned back, with a stack of flatbread in his hand, "Take it, there's no place for you here." ”

"Can you add some hot soup to the poor monk?" Myokora is very persistent in asking and has no intention of leaving. extraordinary

He packed all the flatbread in a package that was miserable, at least in the eyes of the servants.

He shook his head, the monk's burden was dirtier than the rag in his hand, could he still eat the flatbread? The errand man sighed, it's not easy, the right should be a virtue.

He walked out again and soon returned, carrying a steaming bowl of soup. "Hurry up and eat, what should you do when you're full, don't be an eyesore here."

Myoka smiled at the officer, "Thank you, donor." He clasped his hands together and thanked the officer.

Along the way, how many people who are kind to a meal. Although the officer's face was not very friendly, he was not ambiguous at all.

Miaokong didn't ask for a place to clean his hands, picked up the flatbread with his cracked black fingers, and soaked it in the hot soup, this steaming and warm feeling, so happy.

For Myokora at this time, eating a delicious meal is a kind of happiness. Happiness is as simple as that, in a certain situation.

The messenger glanced at him and shook his head, hey, it was too dirty. The fingers were so dirty that they reached into the soup. It's not easy, the errand man sighed.

He was driven like a donkey every day, and the monks and Taoists did not have to do anything, touching their mouths up and down, chanting sutras. But look at this monk, his ragged clothes and unkempt face, and he has a fight with the beggars on the street.

Myoku's eyebrows greeted his glance with a smile. What could be more important than the meal in front of you?

Myoka drank a pot of soup and breathed a long sigh of satisfaction as he slapped his bulging belly with his hands alternately.

"Hurry up, hurry up, the inn rooms are full." The officers drove him away like flies.

Myoku folded his hands and thanked the officer, turned and strode out. The servant chased him out and shouted at him, "Where there is a river, take a bath." Don't mess with the dust. ”

Myoka turned around and greeted him with a crossed hand. He's an interesting person, albeit a little dark. He thanked everyone who unleashed kindness on him.

It was raining drippingly, and Miaokong didn't have an umbrella, so he took off his burden and hugged it in his arms. A few flatbreads inside were soaked and couldn't be eaten.

He walked quickly with his head bowed while holding his baggage. As the rain grew heavier, he raised his hand to wipe the rain from his face, looked around, and saw a house on the hillside in front of him.

He clutched his package and ran, mud splashing under his feet. The grass on the hillside still has a withered decadence. Myoku climbed up one foot at a foot deep.

He took care of the loaf in his baggage, and sometimes hesitated a little between balancing his body and taking care of the loaf, and the result of his hesitation was that his feet slipped and he went backwards for some distance.

His hands and feet were scratched by stones scattered in the dead grass. The water flowed down the hillside, and he lay on the ground, reaching out and grabbing a bunch of bush branches. The thorns on the branches immediately penetrate the skin.

The bread he had worked so hard to protect was still soaking wet. He let go of the branches and rolled over and lay on his back on the hillside, his whole body soaked in the water.

He raised his thorny hand and opened his eyes, and the rain poured into his sockets. Stirred by the icy rain, a warm liquid gushed out of his eyes.

He spread out his hands and feet and let the tears flow freely. The happiness of the soup and rice just now is gone.

Why is he here? Why did he get to where he is today? What did he do wrong? Bear it!

"Li Han, why are you trying to kill me completely. I'm not in your way. I just want to die in peace. Why? Why? Monk Miaokong asked silently.

Salty tears flowed into the ears, and the wind and rain shook the trees furiously. Myoka had enough of crying, got up and continued walking towards the mountain.