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In the winter night of the twelfth year of Kangxi in the Qing Dynasty (1673 AD), the Gantong Temple under the Shengying Peak of Cangshan Mountain in Dali was covered with a thin layer of snow, and the weather was exceptionally cold. In the early morning, the sandalwood in the main hall curls, in the sound of chanting, a thin old monk sits on the futon, and the handwritten verse says: The sky is also broken, the earth is also broken, and the person who dares to sit on the tongue has been broken.

After writing, he looked at the monks for a long time, and finally shook his head and sighed, and threw his pen away.

The old monk's name is Puhe, the world is called "the monk", after cremation in the shrine, the relics stupa is built in the pine forest under the lonely hermitage.

For more than 100 years, no one has been able to solve this problem.

Body:

Between the Shengying Peak and the Buddha Peak, there is a clear stream that winds through the dark pine forest, bypasses the village, and flows eastward into the Erhai Lake. The name of the village is Mojiayi, there are about more than ten Bai families, most of them make a living from hunting, occasionally send the prey to Dali City, exchange for some firewood, rice, oil and salt, although the child lives hard, but also comfortable.

Next to the stream, there is a dilapidated courtyard with three squares and one wall, with white walls and gray tiles, and a few tufts of weeds scattered on the eaves. The owner of the house, named Mo Wenli, has been blind since he was a child, and he relies on relatives and neighbors to help him survive. It wasn't until I was in my forties that I met a fleeing Han woman Su Niang in Dali City, brought back to the village, and finally became a family.

At the beginning, I heard the people in the village talk about Su Niang's ugly appearance, and Lao Mo thought in his heart that it would be good for a blind man to follow, but he couldn't see it himself, and he looked the same. This Su Niang is very capable, and it didn't take long for her to reclaim a small piece of wasteland behind the house, plant vegetables, and raise a few chickens and a little piglet. In the spring of the second year, his wife was pregnant with a child, and Lao Mo was middle-aged, and he was happy in his heart, but he was always uneasy in his heart.

Autumn goes to winter, and the time for childbirth has come.

The grandmother next door who delivered the baby was busy in the house, and Lao Mo was standing anxiously at the gate of the courtyard with a wooden stick. After a long time, he finally heard the cry of the baby when it was born.

"It's a boy, old Mo," Grandma pushed the door out, her face full of joy, "the child's eyes are ...... Good. ”

Lao Mo was stunned when he heard this, and tears poured out of his shriveled eyes.

At that time, my grandfather was a famous hunter in this area, and he once hunted something unclean on the Cangshan Mountain, and soon his eyes were blind. Father and Lao Mo were born blind, which happened to respond to an ancient local legend about the retribution of the third generation, no wonder he has been worried since Su Niang was pregnant.

Grandma reminded him, "Did you name the child?"

"Let's call Mo Remnant. Lao Mo thought about it and said, I hope this child will end the nightmare that has haunted three generations.

A few years later, Mo Yan was already seven or eight years old, he looked like his father, his forehead was round, his physique was strong, and there was an aura between his eyebrows.

When the azaleas bloomed in the spring, several children of the same age in the village began to study in private school, and although the family was poor, Su Niang still saved money to make up enough tuition fees and let Mo Yan go to school together. A few miles to the west of the village, there are two or three vacant dilapidated monks' houses next to Gantong Temple, which are called jukushas, and children from several nearby villages come to study here.

Mr. Mu, who teaches, is a thin black man with a withered face, yellow-brown teeth, a hoarse voice, and a pair of small eyes that are always squinted, as if he can't wake up. I heard that he came from the Central Plains, and he has been living in Gantong Temple for several years, and he barely survives by teaching private schools to earn some money.

In their free time, the children like to run into the woods to hide and seek, while some older ones work harder and stay in the classroom to review their homework. Mo Yan went to the temple alone to see those Buddha statues and listen to the monks chanting, and after a long time, he would even recite a few words.

Two or three years have passed, Mo Yan studied hard under the supervision of Su Niang, and made great progress in his studies, Mr. Mu was quite satisfied, and often gave him guidance alone.

The autumn wind is rising, and the weather is getting cooler.

This time, after Mo Yan finished reciting the poems and books, he wandered in the temple as usual, and inadvertently walked into the pine forest next to the lonely hermitage in the back mountain. There are several monk pagodas scattered among the wild grasses, mottled and covered with moss, and the chirping insects all around, and the fragrance of pine resin is diffused in the air.

Mo Yan stood in front of a tall blue brick relics pagoda, the body of the tower is inlaid with stone engraved with inscriptions, and the book reads: "Serving as a Zen Master Tower Inscription", the beginning of Confucianism, the end of Yan release, one and two, two and one. Erhai autumn waves, point to the snow wall. The area of the Kasya, the room of responsibility. ”

After Mo Yan turned to the tower, he found that the bricks were engraved with handwriting, so he read softly in his mouth: "The sky is also broken, the earth is also broken, and if you think you are responsible, you will miss it, who dares to sit if your tongue is broken?"

"Mo Yan, are you also interested in this verse?" said someone behind him suddenly hoarsely.

Mo was startled, turned around and looked, it turned out to be Mr. Mu.

"Sir, I didn't know you were here. ”

"Well, no one can understand this "Dying Verse" so far, and every seven years the old monk in charge says that there will be a puja in Gantong Temple. This year has come to the seven-year period, and the monks and Confucian scholars from all over the world have come to debate, but there is still no agreement for more than 100 years. Mr. Mu sighed.

"Can't even those learned people in the Central Plains solve it?"

"Hmph, there have been a few scholars from the Hanlin Academy in the imperial court, and it's not a random guess. ”

"What day is the taboo of being a Zen master?" Mo asked.

"October 19 Mengdong, Ming said. Mr. Mu glanced at him and replied.

In the house, Su Niang is sewing clothes, the child is growing fast, and the old clothes are already small. A few days ago, under the old box at home, she found an old animal skin, which was very soft like rabbit fur, and there was a white hair in the middle of the gray.

"Mother, I'm back," Mo Yan put down the bamboo test box containing the book pen and inkstone and said, "I won't go to school tomorrow for the holidays." ”

"Oh, review your homework at home, my mother has to go to Dali City to sell vegetables these days. ”

"I want to go to the Gantong Temple tomorrow to see it. ”

"What are you looking at?" asked Su Niang, puzzled.

"It turns out that there are many learned people, and it will be interesting to meet in the temple tomorrow to crack the "Dying Verse" of the Zen master. Mo Yan recounted the legend he had heard from Mr. Mu about that strange verse.

The next day before dawn, Su Niang went out with a bamboo basket full of vegetables, Lao Mo carried a wooden stick to the entrance of the village, and there was a ten-mile mountain road to Dali City.

Mo Yan had breakfast and went up the mountain excitedly. Along the way, I saw strangers in different clothes walking or riding horses to Gantong Temple, including monks and Confucian scholars, and also saw an official sedan chair shouting forward, which must be a big official.

Under the Shengying Peak, the ancient temple is hidden in the verdant ancient cypress. Gantong Temple, formerly known as Dangshan Temple, was built in Nanzhao, and has a long history.

After entering the mountain gate, facing the main hall of the big cloud hall, there is the four-character plaque of "a smile is spring" under the eaves, the penmanship is strong and simple, it is said that it is the handwriting of the Zen master in that year. On both sides is the side hall, and many people have gathered in the tea hall in the east of it, and they sit down one by one with each other's greetings, and there are small novices offering fragrant tea.

This tea is picked in the two ancient tea trees of the Gantong Temple, cooked in the cold spring next to the tree, the water is ripe and the tea loses the taste, the fire must be just right, when Xu Xiake traveled to the temple, he praised this tea, please taste the donor. A white-bearded monk in the center greeted the guests.

Mo Yan hid outside the window and peeped out, and recognized the old monk as the abbot Wujue Zen Master.

"Good tea," the white-faced Confucian scarf smacked his lips, holding a folding fan and said: "During the Wanli period of the Ming Dynasty, Liu Wei, the Yunnan Inspector, wrote in the "Hanquan Pavilion of Gantong Temple" that there is a dang mountain at the end of Diancang Mountain, and it is called Gantong Temple in the middle of the dang mountain, and there is a spring next to the temple that is sweet and drinkable. The tea tree next to the spring is remembered as a hundred years old when it was first planted. Since there is this mountain, there is this spring, and there is this spring, there is this tea. Although the water is clear and hot, the taste of tea is rich and fragrant, and there is a timeless aftertaste. And the poem said, 'The bamboo house is chic and white, and the monk's words are smoked and fried. Haishan has only dreamed for a long time, and he does not know how many years he lives in his heart. ’”

Sitting in the front row on the right side is a bearded man, who frowned and said in a rough voice: "Tea is tea, just drink it to quench your thirst, where is there so much sour nonsense, we are here today for the old monk's sentence, which can be solved, hurry up and say, Lao Tzu has no idle time to talk nonsense." ”

The Confucian student's face turned red when he heard this, and he was about to defend himself.

The abbot of Wujue smiled slightly, and signaled: "This benefactor is also saying, then this year's debate will begin, and the old man will introduce it first, this is Li Suizhi, the prefect of Dali Mansion." ”

Sitting next to Wujue was a yellow-faced middle-aged man in a purple robe, with three locks of beard and a majestic face, who got up slightly at this moment and said: "This mansion is going to the meeting in casual clothes today, and the debate is purely a civil matter, and it has nothing to do with the imperial court. The two unconscious Zen masters are close friends of the house, and it is a great honor to be invited to come. Ladies and gentlemen, as the old Zen master is my Dali Taoist monk, not only poetry, calligraphy and painting three unique, but also to understand the Zen machine, at the age of eighty-one when he passed away, left a "deathbed" poem, but unfortunately for more than 100 years, the wise men have come to countless times, but no one has been able to solve it. Today, I see that all of you are extraordinary, and the knowledge must be extraordinary, if you can solve this hundred years of uniqueness, it is really the luck of the temple, and the blessing of my Dali Mansion. ”

Everyone present nodded yes.

Mo Yan poked his head out and caught a glimpse of Mr. Mu sitting in the corner, squinting and seeming to be napping.

"Hey, Mo Yan, what are you doing here?" asked a little novice in a whisper.

Mo Yan often came to the temple to play, and the monks generally recognized him.

"Shhhh Mo Yan waved his hand and drove away the little novice.

The abbot twisted the Buddha beads lightly and said loudly: "What Master Li said is that it has been more than 100 years since the death of the ancestor in October 19, the twelfth year of Kangxi, and the debate has been held more than ten times during this period, but it has never been understood. Now please come out of the "Dying Verse" of the ancestor of the year, and ask the donors to take a look. ”

Two monks respectfully presented a scroll, and then gently unfolded it.

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