Play coquettish with Joe

Chapter 4055 Bodhi Books Without Trees

Chapter 4055 Bodhi has no tree (8)

Song Shaoyan sat silently in this small space, looking at everything in the drawer with his eyes.

"President Song, the noodles are ready." Xiaoduo brought out the noodles, "Eat while it's hot."

"Leave it here."

"it is good."

Soon, the atmosphere in the room was covered by the aroma of egg noodles, steaming hot.

Song Shaoyan brought the bowl over and tasted the freshly made noodles.

After taking a bite, the taste is okay, but I always feel that there is something missing.

Halfway through eating, he couldn't eat anymore, put down the bowl, and still sat silently.

The wind outside the window "whirled", and a thin layer of mist formed on the window, making it difficult to see the outside scene clearly. The world is only as big as the room, and there is nothing else.

The early winter was bitter and chilly.

……

There is a thousand-year-old temple in Hwaseong, Baohua Temple.

The wars and natural disasters in the past caused Baohua Temple to be rebuilt many times, until today it has been built into its current appearance, with excellent architecture and tranquility.

This is not the largest temple, there are not many pilgrims, and the area is not large, but it is far away from the city center and very peaceful.

Song Shaoyan has been here many times, and he has figured it out, since he already has no desires and desires, it is better to convert to Buddhism for the rest of his life to seek peace of mind.

He didn't plan to become a monk directly and convert to Buddhism. Afterwards, he let go of the former world and all the materialistic things.

Song Shaoyan has been to Baohua Temple many times, especially the year when he came to Hwaseong after the accident. He spent a long time in Baohua Temple, but at that time he still had something in his heart, and he had not been able to convert to Buddhism. .

Now, it can be regarded as looking at everything.

Today, he came here again.

The cold wind was bitter, and gusts of wind gouged his face like knives, cutting every inch of his skin with pain.

He only asked the driver to take him to the gate, and entered Baohua Temple alone.

He was wearing a black windbreaker, solemn and solemn.

It's too quiet here, the ginkgo leaves that fell on the ground are not swept, and they are covered with a thick layer. When the wind blows, they fly like butterflies, lingering and lingering.

There are a few monks working, but there are no pilgrims, and the smell of incense is floating in the air.

There are bells hanging on the eaves of the temple, which make a "dangdang" sound from time to time. The sound is ethereal and lonely, and can be heard far and far.

The sound of Song Shaoyan's wheelchair rubbing against the ground was clearly audible. He held his breath and focused his attention, his eyes were distant and deep, as calm as the water in an ancient well, with a peaceful luster.

He made an appointment with the abbot, a Zen master.

Arriving in front of a carved and simple wooden door, Song Shaoyan entered, and saw the solemn Buddha statue at a glance. Song Shaoyan worshiped devoutly.

In the temple, there is the sound of young monks chanting scriptures, which is continuous, mixed with the sound of bells.

It was early in the morning, the temple had just recovered from the night, the morning dew was not yet shining, and it was peaceful and peaceful.

Song Shaoyan didn't go to the abbot immediately, and closed his eyes silently, his heart was extremely quiet. This is a rare kind of peace, far away from the hustle and bustle and right and wrong, everything before and everything in the future have nothing to do with him.

This is probably from one world to another, and it is the balance point between life and death in his eyes.

Song Shaoyan closed his eyes and listened to all kinds of voices in the temple. This was different from the hustle and bustle of the outside world. Here, he could gain inner peace and tranquility, and probably he could also find his true self.

The fireworks are lingering, the sky is gray, and the white mist carries the unique coldness of winter.

(End of this chapter)

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