The skinny figure seemed to be able to be broken by only a gust of wind, and the old abbot's eyes were deep, and he listened to Shen Zhihe's bright voice, but he couldn't set off a trace of waves.

After a long time, he stretched out his hand and opened one side of the Buddhist shrine, and there was a bundle of paper inside, not ordinary paper, thicker, and sprinkled with gold moire.

"That's what the donor wants."

The old abbot held the Buddha beads firmly in his left hand, and put the bundle of paper in front of the futon where Shen Zhihe was kneeling with his right hand.

The sky outside the small wooden window was overcast, the clouds seemed to be pressing overhead, and the autumn wind blew a few degrees, and the window frames were creaking.

"What the believer asked for was all vain."

Shen Zhihe clasped his hands together, his eyes fixed on the bundle of paper, and the wisps of sandalwood in the room rose from the small copper tripod, and her head swelled.

"The so-called reincarnation of cause and effect," the old abbot looked at her quietly, his eyebrows flattened, "the cause that the donor is destined to bear fruit, and what kind of effect can be obtained, are all in the donor's thoughts." ”

In the mist of sparse flowers, the white brilliance of what should be the morning glow was pressed into dark clouds, entering along the window, reflecting in Shen Zhihe's dark eyes, and she couldn't see the distant mountains and clear springs of her eyebrows:

"Why me?"

As soon as the words fell, the redness under Shen Zhihe's eyes overflowed, and he muttered again: "My Buddha is merciful, and I should overcome the suffering of the believers." ”

"Amitabha," the old abbot took her expression in his eyes and sighed slightly, "Donor, what you just said is no regrets." ”

Suppressing the surging emotions fiercely, Shen Zhihe took a deep breath, her eyes lit up, her tail voice trembled, and she made a wrinkle:

"It's me who lost my temper."

The old abbot raised his eyebrows, and behind him, the little golden Buddha offered in the Buddhist hall was full of wishes of red dust, and the old abbot said in a deep voice:

"Let the dust rise and fall, the donor doesn't have to be so decisive."

Shen Zhihe's throat was astringent, and her voice was hoarse: "It's Nanke's dream, why bother to covet the fruitless Chaoli." ”

But as soon as the words fell, Shen Zhihe himself felt funny.

Covetous? She is greedy.

Before the Buddha, you should listen to your heart.

She was supposed to be a crane living alone in the cold mountains, and she wanted to be a bird who was not afraid of fetters, but she couldn't hide the red dust and wind moon at the tip of her heart, and she couldn't be a Penglai fairy in the sky, just because the world was shocked.

"Donor."

The old abbot pinched the string of Buddha beads, twenty-eight round purple leaf sandalwood, with the alternation of thumbs, passed through his palm, and a pair of heavy eyes seemed to have seen through Shen Zhihe's heart-

"I want to be a yellow sorghum, and I also want to determine the world, although the world is mysterious, and the world is ever-changing, I can't escape an empty word in the end."

"It is not impossible to be full of elegance first, and then beg for your morning dawn and twilight."

The wind entered the hall, blowing away the sandalwood in the room, and also blowing away the white mist in front of Shen Zhihe's eyes, and the fingertips under her sleeves were pinched until they turned white, and the crescent moon was imprinted in the palm of her hand.

"You mean ......"

The old abbot closed his eyes, picked up the wooden fish on the ground, and blocked Shen Zhihe's words: "Donor, you can cross by yourself." ”

The sound of the wooden fish filled the Buddha hall in an instant, like the spiritual sound from another world, and the most important thing was the cleansing of the Holy Spirit.

The lotus blue skirt trembled slightly, and Shen Zhihe's eyes reflected the eternal wind and moon, and now it seemed that he had stolen a glimmer of light, and Luo sleeves hugged the wind, and sent all the cold to Penglai.

She lifted her eyelids and borrowed the three colors of the rising sun:

"Thank you, Master, for your words."

After saying that, Shen Zhihe bent down and kowtowed three times heavily, to the old abbot and the golden Buddha behind him.

The old abbot still had the same tightly closed eyes, he still knocked on the wooden fish, one by one, echoing in the empty Buddha hall, asking people's hearts and asking Buddha's hearts.

The calloused fingertips twisted one Buddha bead after another, all of which were unfinished for three thousand years.

Shen Zhihe hid the bundle of paper in front of him firmly in his sleeve, then got up, and saluted respectfully, before quietly moving the lotus out of the hall, turning around and closing the door of the Buddha hall.

Slowly exhaled, Shen Zhihe returned along the original road, bowed down with the little monk guarding the door, and the huge backyard of Lanruo Temple was not even a single bystander.

I don't know if Ying'er can be used to serve the ever-bright lantern.

Shen Zhihe raised his wrist to reveal three points of fine bones and jade muscles, and was about to go around the main hall to find her, but there was a sudden thunder in the sky, and the thunderous momentum sounded, and the dark clouds that had been pressed for several days finally couldn't hold back the hidden rain, and the heavy rain poured down in an instant.

The pouring rain knocked down the red dust on the eaves, and Shen Zhihe had to find a short corridor to shelter from the rain.

Just as she didn't know what to do, there was a sound of footsteps behind Shen Zhihe, and she turned around, her eyes fluttering.

The visitor's face was blank, his eyes swept around no one, he stepped forward with a little force, held Shen Zhihe's emaciated wrist and led her into the small room next to the corridor.

"Let it go!"

This is an uninhabited meditation room, Shen Zhihe broke free of the man's hand, took a few steps back, a dark cloud across the bun, long eyelashes lightly, she suppressed her voice and shouted, for fear that someone would hear.

The man didn't hear it, and after checking the doors and windows, he turned around and sat down next to the desk in the meditation room, and accepted his twelve-bone white bamboo umbrella:

"Mrs. Meng, don't come unharmed."

The rootless water falls from the sky, the rain is pouring around, and the noise is in the ears, and it seems that it can't be quieter anymore.

The sky in the meditation room was obscure, Shen Zhihe lowered his eyes and was surprised, and when he looked up again, there was no wave, and the wind was everywhere: "Why are you here?" ”

"Madame thinks that if you say goodbye to Luoyang, it will be forever?"

The man folded the twelve-bone white bamboo umbrella and put it on the desk, the rain fell along the edge of the case, and soon it was fainted on the bluestone brick slab, he raised his eyes and stared at Shen Zhihe, his voice was as warm as jade, and his eyes were burning.

He was the painter who painted for them at the ancestral shrine of the Meng family in Luoyang.