The uncle grabbed the rags, hugged the contents of the cloth, and ran away as if a rainstorm was about to fall.

She chased after her.

"Wait, wait—"

Until the uncle turned into the courtyard of a farmhouse.

The uncle got into the house, and she had just stopped in front of someone's yard.

"Boom-"

There was a thunderclap.

Without warning, the rain rained as soon as it was said.

Turn around.

The uncle was waving to her, and next to him was the woman who was angry with him in front of him, and both of them were waving at her, and then the woman took out a thin board and covered her head and ran over.

Temporary shelter from the rain.

At the same time, visit the uncle's personal root carving art exhibition.

Most of the hall was made of wood, tree roots, strips, etc., and one or two could be stepped on in two steps, and in a place against the wall, there was something like a cupboard, which the uncle opened and looked at her expectantly.

The woman brought a bowl of hot soup.

It's boiling water, throwing a few leaves.

She thanked her and put it in the corner and continued to look at her uncle's root carving.

The raw materials are ordinary tree roots and the like, but through the superb craftsmanship of the devil's axe, the root carvings in the cabinet have become treasures.

Most of them are no bigger than palms, and most of them are farming scenes.

Among them is a larger root carving.

Half an arm's length.

A ship.

The hull, the deck, the mast, and the sails, and the three men on board, one pulling the sails, one standing beside him, looking up at the sails, and one at the stern of the ship, looking at the sea behind the ship, or the fading sunset.

Lifelike.

She gave her uncle a thumbs up.

The uncle laughed "hehe".

But the woman frowned, and said a few words, according to the tone, and a few similar sounds, as if she was complaining about the uncle, who did not do his job every day—farming, fooling around these things, and not making a lot of money.

The uncle didn't say a word and put away the treasures.

The uncle sat down in front of a half-finished cupboard and said a few words, as if he were going to go to town to make furniture for people.

"Carpenter?"

"It's tied!" Uncle nodded.

"How much?" Pointing to the cupboard, she pulled out a copper coin.

Uncle should have gone and said the number.

Didn't understand.

The uncle made another comparison.

She looked at the pile of strips in the corner, picked one up, twisted it, took out a notepad and drew a shape, tore off a page and handed it to her uncle.

"Can you do it?"

The uncle understood, and picked up the strip and changed the knife a few times.

In a few moments, it was made into an exact shape.

"Pattern, texture, is it okay?"

Uncle nodded.

After a while, the finished product came out.

In her hand is a book folder - between the books are mostly scroll-shaped, bookmarks, obviously not very applicable, if it can be clamped on the scroll, marked the location, small and exquisite, there should still be a certain market.

Uncle seems to be asking, what's the use of this?

It's too cumbersome to explain.

She counted thirty dollars, pushed it over, and made another twenty.

The uncle was stunned, and then returned the money.

"No, no, no, you deserve it." Picking up the bookcase, she gave it another thumbs up.

The uncle collected five copper coins.

The uncle was numb, and for more than an hour, he made twenty exquisite book clips.

As she went, she made up another five copper coins, thirty in all, and set them aside, covering them with the bowl of water.

In addition, she left a picture for her uncle.

"Is Lao Shizi finished?"

"Crutches." limped away for a while, and picked up a stick again: "Good-looking, beautiful, luxurious, high-end, rich lord, crutches!" ”

Rural + root carving.

No matter how good the technology is, who will you sell it to?

She showed him the way.

I took the book folder back to Tiankui Temple, waited for a while, and waited for Master Yuankong.

First, deliver the book folder.

Buddhist scripture books, there are a lot of pages of paper, and the book clip can't be clamped, but it is still very suitable for scrolls.

Cautiously gestured.

Master Yuankong smiled: "Thank you, Lord Liu." ”

"It's me who thank the master, and I have to bother the master to help."

took out a notepad, flipped through it a few times, found the marked verses, and read them to Master Yuankong one by one.

"Please help me copy it."

"My writing is really unsightly."

Master Yuankong looked at her small notebook, embarrassed at first, but then studied it carefully for a while—it really didn't understand.

She writes in simplified Chinese, in addition to the poems under the flat diary, there are some ideas that ordinary people must not understand.

I read the verse and explained the general meaning.

Master Yuan Kong wrote it out accurately.

Master Yuankong put down his pen: "This ...... Poor Dao has read poetry and books, and Liu Shizhu has these poems, poor Dao ...... I don't know who did it? ”

"Hmm...... This is Bai Juyi, and that is Wang Changling...... As for the author of this sentence, I can't remember it for a while. ”

Choose poems that are positive, inspirational, or philosophical.

It's not easy.

Who made her not have an intelligent search system in her head?

pretended to explain for a while, and the eyes of Master Yuankong looked at her, and they didn't seem to be the same.

Stealing joy.

Pull the lamp and sleep.

Dawn, get up.

Ouch hey—

Yesterday there was a heavy rain, although it came and went quickly, and the next day it was actually a sunny day.

A rare warm sun.

Came out early in the morning.

Tiankui Temple is a real person.

Fortunately, she got up early, rushed to the dining hall early in the morning, filled her stomach, and immediately rushed to the front line - competing for a VIP seat on the podium.

Comes with foreshadowing.

Sit down.

Looking around, I was a little disappointed because I couldn't grab the VIP seat.

The seats in the first few rows with a good view were actually occupied by the servants arranged by some pilgrims, and before dawn, people came—who knew there would be such a show?

Never mind.

Quickly focus on the podium.

"Wow!" Applaud.

As a fan, when the idol comes, the slap must be slapped.

The first lecturer is Master Haraku~

What is a saying?

It is said that there are also some stories in the Buddhist scriptures, and the books are jerky and difficult to understand Chinese, and on weekdays, when the master preaches the scriptures, he also uses classical Chinese.

Excuse me, ordinary people, who can't read a word, can they understand it?

Is it conducive to the spread of Buddhist culture?

And colloquialism is to tell those stories in plain language, and at the same time, with vivid performances.

As he spoke, Master Yuankong wiped the corners of his eyes with his sleeve.

"Mother, son is not filial ......"

Suddenly.

There was a cry in her ears.

There was a woman crying in a low voice next to her, and there was also a woman's cry behind her.

Come back to your senses.

Looking at Master Yuankong on the stage, she suddenly smiled, covered her mouth and got up and stepped back.

Glanced around.

She retreated to the side of the lecture hall and stood in the corner to take a closer look—who was her first client?

I flipped the backpack on my back.

His eyes turned to a corner of the lecture hall.

After a while, Master Yuankong's vulgar lecture ended, and then two other senior monks came up, one person and one corner, and the people below listened extremely carefully.

And a woman she had noticed earlier.

The woman got up and left the lecture hall.