messenger from the wasteland

Chapter 39

Dizang just arrived at Shanju Village today. This remote village is not easy to find. He walked a long way before he found the village gate.

As for his purpose of coming here, it is very simple, he wants to kill someone.

But the trouble is that the man seems to be a monk now, and he doesn't want to kill the man in the temple.

He has some paranoia, and he himself knows this shortcoming of himself, and he will always be obsessed with some irrelevant things.

However, he was already used to this shortcoming, so he was going to write a letter asking out the person he wanted to kill.This will solve the problem and be more convenient for both of you.

But before that, he had to eat something, he was already hungry after walking for a few days.

In this season, the mountain village is full of falling cherry blossoms, and even the ground of the street is almost covered with petals. There is no way, who made this small village just sit at the foot of the cherry blossom mountain.

Jizo raised his head slightly, and saw the cherry-colored mountain that caught his eye, his mouth with the straw in his mouth moved.

This is indeed a beautiful scenery, and even the villagers walking among the cherry blossoms seem to be part of this beautiful scenery.

"Ouch."

A woodcutter walked by Jizo, carrying two large bundles of firewood on his back, probably because his eyes were attracted by Jizo, a stranger, he didn't pay attention to the road under his feet, and sprained his foot as a result.

Two bundles of firewood fell from his shoulders, and the firewood was about to fall to the ground and scattered all over the place.

Jizo stretched out his hand, grabbed the rope tied on the firewood, and lifted the firewood.

The two large bundles of firewood seemed to be weightless in his hands, and he only held them in his hands.

"Are you okay?" Dizang looked at the woodcutter who had fallen to the ground, and asked plainly.

"It's okay, it's okay." The woodcutter quickly patted the dust on his body, and stood up: "It's good that the firewood is not scattered, otherwise it will take a lot of effort."

As he said that, the woodcutter took the firewood from Dizang's hand. Although he sprained his ankle, he was a mountain man who was used to these things, so he limped and carried the firewood on his back.

"Thank you, brother." After a simple greeting, the woodcutter walked away with the firewood on his back.

Jizo watched the woodcutter go away.

On the street, the gazes of the villagers looking at Dizang changed from strangers to friendliness.

Shanju Village is really a small village, and it is really easy to accept outsiders. As long as you have no malicious intentions, they will welcome you.

Jizo sat down in front of a street stall, ordered a bowl of noodle soup, and sat on a table and chair covered with cherry blossoms and waited.

Not long after, the proprietress arrived at Jizo's table with a bowl of noodle soup.

There is only this small noodle restaurant in this village. After all, the village is so big, there are no outsiders, and most people eat at their own homes. Who would eat noodle restaurants for nothing?

The proprietress of the noodle shop is a widow, and it is not easy for a person with a child.The villagers occasionally take care of the business, so they are able to live.

"Your face."

The proprietress put down her noodles, wiped her hands on her apron, and went back to the kitchen behind.

Jizo looked at the noodles on his table. It was a very simple bowl of noodle soup. The noodles were boiled in ordinary white soup with a few vegetable leaves added.

But this is exactly what he wants, he is a vegetarian and does not eat meat.

Taking off his bamboo hat and putting it aside, Jizo took a pair of chopsticks from the chopstick cage beside him.

At this time, a few cherry blossoms flew down into the bowl in front of Jizo, floating on the noodle soup.

"Oh?" Ksitigarbha said to himself in a low voice: "Did God give me some flower petals?"

"Then respect is worse than obedience." Dizang closed his eyes, held the chopsticks in front of his face, and saluted solemnly.

Then he took the chopsticks and ate the noodles in big mouthfuls, as if he was eating some delicacies from mountains and seas.

Others can't understand Ksitigarbha, just like he can't understand himself.

But there always seems to be such a strange rule in what he does, his own rules, and only the rules he follows.

At dusk and dusk, most of the pedestrians on the street had already gone back, and Dizang was still walking on the streets of Shanju Village.

Holding the sword in his arms, he stopped in front of a dilapidated house.This is the corner of the village. This house is probably abandoned. No one lives in it. There is not even a door, and there are spider webs on the door frame.

He was going to stay here for one night, he was a homeless person after all, usually it would be good to have a corner for him to rest.

"Meow."

A cat meow stopped Jizo from stepping into the door.

He looked over the door frame and saw a brown feral cat squatting there too, watching him warily.

One person and one cat stared at each other for a long time, and a gust of wind blew past, blowing the cobwebs on the door frame.

Jizo held his sword and said to the wild cat.

"I'm in Tibet, I'm homeless tonight, can I stay here for a night?"

The wild cat's erect pupils were vigilant, it stood up, walked back and forth on the door frame for a while, then jumped lightly to the ground, and walked slowly and cautiously in front of Jizo.

"Meow."

God knows if the person and the cat are really communicating. All I know is that Ji Zang squatted down, stretched out his hand to touch the cat's chin, and said in a dull voice.

"Are you homeless too?"

The wild cat narrowed its eyes and called again: "Meow."

It hesitated for a moment, and jumped into Jizo's arms.

Dizang caught it, hugged it, and patted its back.

"Well, let's live here tonight."

Saying that, Dizang walked into the dilapidated hut with the wild cat in his arms.

At night, Dizang lit a bonfire, and the light of the fire illuminated the shadows of him and the wild cat.Jizo held the straw in one hand and teased the stray cat.

The other hand holds a pen and writes a letter.

"When, when, when."

The bells echoed in Shanju Village. This was the evening bell from Qingxin Temple. The bells called for people who had not yet returned home to go home earlier.

Jizo listened to the bell, waited for the ink to dry on the letter he had just written, sat by the fire, and wiped the knife in his hand.

Where does a lonely ghost like him come from?

In the early morning, the air still has the moisture of morning dew.

The old monk carried a box of firewood and went out to dry in the sun. The weather has been a bit humid these days, and the firewood in the firewood room is a little wet, so it needs to be dried before it can be used.

Spreading the scattered firewood in front of the door, the old monk slumped his back, his hands and feet became more and more inflexible, people will always get old, no one can escape life, old age, sickness and death.

Just when he was about to go back, he saw something seemed to be placed by the door, and when he took a closer look, he realized that it seemed to be a letter.

Everyone in this village talks face to face. Who can write letters?
The old monk picked up the letter, and there were six words neatly written on the envelope.

"The host of Qingxin Temple accepts."

For the old monk mine?
The old monk held the letter in surprise, he couldn't think of anyone who would write to him.There was no result, he shook his head, put the letter into his arms, and walked back to the temple.

At the corner of the street outside the temple, Jizo wearing a bamboo hat leaned against the wall with the straw in his mouth, and the brown wild cat in his arms yawned.

Dizang watched the old monk go back, and put down his bamboo hat.

(End of this chapter)