On the morning of this day, the old monk did not give Sakurako a lecture on Buddhism, and he went back to his meditation room early.

The door was closed, and the old monk sat in the meditation room, facing a wall in front of him, his head bowed.

On the wall hangs a word, a Zen character, which is the instruction left to him by his abbot before his death, word by word, saying that if he understands it thoroughly, it is to cross. It's a shame to say that he has been reading this Zen word for nearly 30 years, but he still hasn't understood it thoroughly.

How to cross, he vaguely felt, this time, he can find the answer.

Facing the wall with Zen characters, the old monk bowed down and kowtowed three times, and every time his forehead touched the ground, it would make a dull sound, like a wooden fish being beaten.

After kowtowing, the old monk stood up, he walked to the side of the Zen character, and slowly took off the calligraphy, revealing what was behind it.

Behind the copybook, there is a long cloth bag, which is wrapped very tightly, so that people can't see what is inside.

The old monk stared at the cloth bag for a long time, stretched out his hand, and took it off.

In this bag is his sword many years ago, this sword that has killed countless people, and it is the karma of his life.

The old monk held the cloth bag, picked up the Zen staff by the door, put on his robe and pushed the door open.

Outside the door, Sakurako was practicing swords in the yard, and under the cherry blossom tree, Sakurako's face was covered with sweat.

When she saw the old monk's dress, she knew that the old monk was going out, so she wiped the sweat on her forehead and asked.

"Abbot, where are you going?"

The old monk made a Buddhist salute and replied with a smile.

"Boss, I'm going to finish a practice. ”

In the falling cherry blossoms, the old monk wore a lightly swaying robe, held a Zen stick, picked up a cloth bag and walked towards the outside of the temple.

During a practice, Sakurako didn't understand the meaning of the old monk, but she often couldn't understand the Buddhist words in the old monk's mouth, so she got used to it.

The old monk walked to the door, and as he was about to leave, he turned back and smiled at Sakurako.

"By the way, Sakurako, in the meditation room, I left you a gift, remember to pick it up in three days. ”

With that, he stepped out the door and slowly closed the door of the temple.

What he left Sakurako, he left Sakurako a Zen word.

What he can't understand, he hopes Sakurako can understand.

On that day when the cherry blossoms were flying, the monk held on to his life's karma and walked towards the west.

······

On Cherry Blossom Mountain, brown wild cats chase the petals that fall from mid-air at Jizo's feet, and the mountain breeze blows the straw in Jizo's mouth.

"Bell, bell, bell. "The sound of bells is blown by the wind.

Jizo looked through the broken hat in the direction where the voice came from.

Among the cherry petals on the ground, an old monk walked slowly towards him with a Zen stick, and the bell-like sound was made by the ring on the Zen stick.

The old monk's wide robe was rolled up, and he was holding a long cloth bag in his arms.

With Jizo's eyes, he could see at a glance that the cloth bag was a sword.

Are you still ready to resist, Jizo held the sword in his hand, and gently pushed the blade out with his thumb. Most of the people he wanted to kill would resist, which was not surprising, but after all, this time it was a monk, and he thought it would be different.

Hmph, it seems that decades of cultivation can't change a person's bad roots, Jizo's eyes were filled with some sarcasm, and his eyes were full of murderous intent. He was ready to draw his sword.

The wild cat on the ground seemed to sense something, and instead of chasing the petals, it hid behind a tree.

The old monk walked all the way to a place less than three meters in front of Jizo, and the two stood like this, looking at each other for a while, and no one spoke first.

"Click, here. Jizo gripped the hilt of his sword and drew his own sword, a piercing grinding sound between the blade and the scabbard.

The cherry blossoms are scattered.

It's really a great place to kill, isn't it?

But then, Jizo's expression was stunned for a moment, not because of anything else, but because of the old monk in front of him.

The old monk did not draw his sword, but just knelt down in front of Jizo. He put down his staff, held the long cloth bag in both hands, raised it above his head, and said in a calm and slow voice.

"The old man has nothing to ask for, and he will not resist, karma will be repaid in the end. Just ask the donor for one thing, use this knife to finish me off. ”

As he spoke, the old monk untied the cloth bag.

The cloth bag slipped off, revealing what was inside.

It was a long knife with a black scabbard, black mixed with some stained red, and even standing on the sidelines could smell the blood on the knife.

It was full of sword marks, and both the scabbard and the hilt were undamaged.

It is such a knife, which represents the old monk's other self, a self that he wants to put down but can't let go. From the moment he killed the first person, it was already doomed that he would not be able to let go of this karma.

Therefore he cannot realize it, and he cannot survive it, unless he repays the retribution, that is, ends his own life.

This is one of his practices, a practice that he has spent his whole life doing.

Jizo was silent for a while, and put away his sword. It should have accepted the old monk's request, he walked up to the old monk and reached out to hold the knife.

When the knife was drawn, the blade was rusty, and the knife, which had not been unsheathed for decades, made a clanging sound when it was unsheathed.

Jizo held the knife in both hands, raised it, and stood in front of the old monk, he asked.

"Have you realized anything in the past few decades?"

"Didn't realize anything. The old monk smiled and looked up at the sword in Jizo's hand.

"But perhaps, your sword can fulfill me. ”

Let go of this life, he should also be able to let go of karma, let go of the past, and let go of all his obsessions.

It's all put down, and he's going to cross it.

"Then I will fulfill you. ”

Jizo said lightly, and the rusty blade fell suddenly.

The knife was fast, fast enough to be in a thought, but in this thought, the old monk thought of a lot.

He thought of the last rice ball his mother had left for him, of the first person he had killed, of the mixture of things he had indulged in, of the two blows that the old abbot had struck on his forehead, of the moment when he had suddenly awakened, of the Zen word.

He seemed to have thought of everything, and he seemed to be about to let go.

But at this time, a literate girl appeared in front of him.

The girl turned back to him and asked.

Abbot, how do you pronounce this word?

He wanted to answer, but couldn't make a sound.

Then he saw a swallow flying down in front of the hall, and gave a twig to a young girl with a scar on her face.

Am I a good person, the girl asked.

He seemed to have returned to those times, the evening bell in the twilight, the tea in front of the hall, and the ringing in the New Year's snow.

The old monk closed his eyes and a wry smile appeared on his face.

He let go of his life's loneliness and nostalgia.

But I can't let go of such things.

Also, he has been lonely all his life, leaving only such a few things, how can he let go of it?

"Thorn!"

The blade slashed, blood splattered, staining the petals of the cherry blossoms on the ground, and the great pain and coldness engulfed the old monk's consciousness.

That's it, if you can't put it down, you can't put it down.

He thought, his palms dropping, and he looked up, the flying cherry blossoms taking over his blurred vision.

I really want to have a cup of tea.