Life is like a play, it is better to say that the play is like life, the play on the stage is just a fusion of life and everything in the world on that stage, and the very charming singing is a shout on the road of life.

Ba Song never imagined that when he listened to the Chinese opera and had a deep understanding of it, he would be frightened by the thunderous siren, and he quickly turned his head to look at the door of the monk's house.

Ba Song, who finally reacted, wiped the fine cold sweat that was shocked from his forehead, and finally wiped it on the monk's robe casually, and stood up from his seat.

Ba Song, who is already seventeen years old, seems to be in a happy mood, not living in fear all day long like he did in those seven years of inhuman past, afraid that he will be picked by a prostitute. Now, in the past two years, he has used his "single money" (the salary given to the monks in the temple) to improve his food, so it can be seen that Ba Song's body is much stronger than two years ago. And Ba Song is also at the age of physical development, and even his height has sprung up like mushrooms after a rain.

At this time, he was already a sturdy young man with a height of 1.7 meters, and his more and more delicate face also revealed the vitality that only belongs to young people. It is worth mentioning that the abbot of the temple does not seem to want to send Ba Song out of the temple, but allows him to continue to worship the Buddha and chant sutras in the temple.

After Ba Song got up from his position, he walked out of the monk's dormitory and walked straight to the temple entrance. Joining in the fun,It seems to be a common point for all mankind.,No matter who it is.,As long as there is a little curiosity in the bottom of your heart.,You can't suppress the desire to find out.。 The same is true of Ba Song, and in the memory of all the years he has been in the town of Dara, he has never heard such a noisy and chaotic siren!

"It's not a murder or it's a fight against some underworld den." Ba Song thought so, but curiosity also drove him to the door of the temple in three steps and two steps, and Ba Song was surprised to find that the abbot, who no longer forced him to do that dirty and dirty thing, was standing alone at the door.

Ba Song folded his hands and stepped forward to bow a Buddha salute: "Master Abbot, good afternoon." ”

I don't know if I was fascinated by it, or if I was thinking about something, the abbot actually shrugged his shoulders because of Ba Song's greeting, but the abbot measured his face slightly and responded, "Good afternoon." ”

After finishing speaking, he continued to look at the convoy of police cars, the shrill siren dissipated without the barrier of distance, and it made people's eardrums tingle, Ba Song couldn't help but rub his uncomfortable ears, trying to relieve it.

Just as he tilted his head and rubbed his ears, his eyes inadvertently caught a glimpse of the expression on the abbot's face. This is an expression that makes others feel a little inexplicable, only to see the abbot's eyebrows twitch slightly, his eyes are also slightly narrowed, and the corners of his mouth seem to be uncontrollably raised slightly, revealing a little yellowed teeth.

If you are a micro-expression expert, you can see at a glance that this is the happy smile that a person will show after doing something and succeeding.

It's a pity that Ba Song has not studied the psychology of micro-expressions, let alone an expert, so he just thinks it is a little strange, so he has no other ideas. Finally, when the sirens had diminished until they were only faintly audible, Ba Song and the abbot turned and walked into the temple gates.

Without saying a word, both of them returned to their respective monks' dormitories and went to do their own things. But I don't know why, when Ba Song sat down, turned on a radio on the table and continued to listen to Chinese opera, he only felt a slight tightness in his heart, and he had just taken a deep breath to relax his mood, and he was inexplicably uneasy because of this.

Perhaps it was the experience of those seven years that made Ba Song have a habit of thinking crankily, and he suddenly remembered the expression on the face of the abbot he had just seen at the door of the temple, and at this moment it was actually associated with this sense of unease.

Before he knew it, Ba Song's brow furrowed, and then he stood up from his position again, and walked as fast as he could, towards the outside of the temple. At this time, he even forgot to turn off the radio on the table that was "babbling" and playing opera. But when Ba Song walked out of the monk's house, his shoulder accidentally hit the door of the monk's house, but Ba Song, who had something in his heart, didn't care too much, and turned a blind eye to the door that was slowly closed by his shoulder.

After leaving the temple, Ba Song immediately recalled the direction of the police car just now, and finally stretched out his hand on the side of the road to greet a "tutu car" (that is, a domestic electric tricycle, it seems that European and American tourists like to take this), and then Ba Song in this extremely pink tricycle decorated by the owner, listening to the "tutu" sound from the motor, drove to the direction of Prasda's doll shop.

On one side, Ba Song frowned and left the temple, and on the other side, the abbot of the temple who returned to his own monastic dormitory ordered the "Da Liao" (the place where rice is cooked in the temple) to make a bowl of black rice porridge. The "rice head monk" (the monk who cooks) in Daliao only thought that the abbot wanted to satisfy his cravings, and it didn't take long for a little monk to deliver a bowl of steaming black rice porridge to the abbot's dormitory.

After the little monk put down the porridge bowl and went out, the abbot did not touch the bowl of porridge, but closed the door of the room, and then carefully turned out a black jar that looked like a little dust had accumulated in a corner of the monk's dormitory. At the mouth of the altar there was a large piece of some kind of animal fur covering it, and a thin black rope bound the large piece of fur around a centimeter below the mouth of the altar.

Such jars, coupled with such sealing methods, are mostly used as pickles or wine storage vessels in Chinese peasant households. However, in Thailand, it is almost impossible to use such utensils for pickling, the main reason is that it is not easy to grow vegetables in Thailand, which leads to the high cost of cultivation, and most Thais do not like to eat vegetable food.

In addition, there is a "big liao" in charge of the monks' food in the temple, and if it is really to carry out the work of pickling, it is impossible for the abbot to do it himself.

Soon, the abbot brought the black jar to the table, and then slowly untied the black string tied to the fur, and it took about ten minutes for the abbot to untie the black rope one by one. As he was about to uncover the last layer of fur, the abbot's hands suddenly stopped, and then he turned and walked to the corner where the black jar had been placed, and found a pair of black but somewhat curved suspected chopsticks.

After finding the two sticks, the abbot immediately came to the table, he took a deep breath, then held his breath and slowly uncovered the fur with the two black sticks. If the abbot did not hold his breath, he could immediately feel the air in the monk's dormitory, as the fur at the mouth of the altar was uncovered, filled with an extremely choking earthy smell.

Even the sweet smell of the bowl of black rice porridge was covered by the strong taste. Not only that, but after the fur was completely uncovered, a sound immediately sounded in the small space of the monk's house.

"Goo Lv Goo Lv Goo ......"

Imagine if there was a car lying silently on a very long bubble plastic film, and you were separated from this scene by a piece of glass that could not be seen through! Without knowing it, I can only listen to this heart-wrenching voice, constantly guessing what kind of thing it is, and make such a strange sound.

Looking at the abbot again, he felt nothing about the strange sound, and after completely unfurring the fur, he put the black stick into it, and kept moving it from side to side. At this time, the abbot looks like he is eating hot pot, rummaging through a piece of potato that he has put into the hot pot with chopsticks.

After a while, the abbot's hand holding the black stick suddenly stopped, and then slowly picked it up, and as the part of the black stick that reached into the jar was slowly revealed, through the light that came through the gap between the doors, I saw that at the end of the black stick, there was a black worm like a maggot, the size of a pearl, waving its six legs like a bull in the air, and its soft and boneless body seemed to be a little painful because of being caught by the stick, and constantly writhing.

Looking at the strange and disgusting fat insect in front of him, the abbot's other hand took out a silver tweezer from his waist, clamped the fat insect's feet one by one, and then pulled it out!

I only heard six small sounds, which could only be described as sticky, echoing in the abbot's ears, and then looking at the tweezers used to pull out the six feet of the fat worm, because of the splash of some juice in the fat worm's body, it was slowly showing small burnt yellow spots!

In the end, because of the abbot's series of actions, which had been delayed for nearly twenty minutes or so, the bowl of black rice porridge on the table had also cooled down, and a layer of film had floated on the surface. So the abbot stirred it with a spoon that had been placed in the bowl, placed the dying black fat worm in it, and stirred it slightly.

Looking at the bowl of black rice porridge in front of him that was completely unusual, the abbot smiled slightly, and whispered in the monk's dormitory where he was alone: "Hmph, when you drink this bowl of porridge, I won't be afraid that you won't tell the secret of the Gu worm." ”

Probably because of the action just now, the abbot's nerves became tense, and he spent a lot of physical strength, which made him cover the fur at the mouth of the altar at will, and he didn't care about it, but sat on the chair by the table to rest for a while, and took a breath.

In a minute, the abbot tied the edge of the fur with the black string, placed it on the table, and walked out of the monastery with the bowl of black rice porridge.

The abbot didn't notice that at the edge of the fur at the mouth of the altar, I don't know if it was because of the age or because it was tightly strangled by the black string, it actually broke a gap the size of a grain of rice, and a wisp of fishy smell in the altar was slowly leaking out of it!