messenger from the wasteland

Chapter 41 I really want to drink a cup of tea

In the morning of this day, the old monk did not teach Yingzi about Buddhism, and he went back to his meditation room early.

The door was closed tightly, and the old monk sat in the meditation room, facing a wall in front of him, with his head bowed.

There is a piece of writing on the wall, a Zen character, which is an instruction left to him by his abbot before his death, word by word, saying that if he understands it thoroughly, he will cross.Ashamed to say, he has read this Zen character for nearly thirty years, but he still hasn't fully realized it.

How to cross, he vaguely felt that this time, he was able to find the answer.

Facing the wall with Zen characters, the old monk bowed down and kowtowed three times. Every time his forehead touched the ground, there would be a hollow sound, like the sound of a wooden fish being beaten.

After kowtowing, the old monk stood up, walked to the side of the Zen character, and slowly took off the copybook, revealing what was behind it.

Behind the copybook is a long cloth bag, which is so tightly wrapped that people cannot see what is inside.

The old monk stared at the cloth bag for a long time, stretched out his hand, and took it off.

In this bag is his sword from many years ago. This sword that has killed countless people is the karma of his life.

The old monk held the cloth bag, picked up the Zen stick by the door, put on his cassock and opened the door.

Outside the door, Yingzi is practicing sword in the yard, under the cherry tree, Yingzi's face is covered with sweat.

When she saw the old monk's dress, she knew that the old monk was going out. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and asked.

"Abbot, where are you going?"

The old monk performed a Buddha ceremony and answered with a smile.

"Old Monk, I'm going to end a practice."

In the falling cherry blossoms, the old monk was wearing a cassock swaying lightly, standing with a Zen staff, holding a cloth bag and walking towards the outside of the temple.

During a practice session, Yingzi didn't understand the old monk's meaning, but she often couldn't understand the Buddhist words in the old monk's mouth, so she got used to it.

The old monk walked to the door, and when he was about to leave, he turned around and smiled at Yingzi.

"By the way, Yingzi, I left you a gift in the meditation room, remember to pick it up in three days."

After speaking, he stepped out and slowly closed the gate of the temple.

What did he leave Yingzi? He left Yingzi a Zen character.

What he can't understand, he hopes that Yingzi can understand.

On that day when the cherry blossoms were flying, the monk walked westward with his life's karma in his arms.

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On the cherry blossom mountain, brown wild cats were chasing the petals falling from mid-air at Jizo's feet, and the breeze in the mountain was blowing the straw in Jizo's mouth.

"Bell, bell, bell." The sound like a bell was blown by the wind.

Jizo looked in the direction of the sound through the broken bamboo hat.

Among the cherry-colored petals all over the ground, an old monk walked slowly towards him with a Zen staff, and the bell-like sound came from the ring on the Zen staff.

The old monk's loose cassock was rolled up, and he held a long cloth bag in his arms.

With Jizo's eyes, he could tell at a glance that the cloth bag contained a sword.

Still ready to resist, Jizo held the sword in his hand, and gently pushed the blade out with his thumb.It was no surprise that most of the people he was going to kill would resist, but since it was a monk this time, he had expected it to be different.

Hmph, it seems that decades of practice can't change a person's bad roots. There is some sarcasm in Jizo's eyes, and there is a killing intent in his eyes.He was ready to draw his sword.

The wild cat on the ground seemed to sense something, and instead of chasing the petals, it hid behind a tree.

The old monk walked to a place less than three meters in front of Dizang, and the two stood like this, looking at each other for a while, neither of them spoke first.

"Ka, here." Ksitigarbha grabbed the hilt and pulled out his own sword. There was an ear-piercing friction sound between the blade and the scabbard.

Cherry blossoms scattered.

It's a really good place to kill, isn't it?
But then, Dizang was stunned for a moment, not because of anything else, but because of the old monk in front of him.

The old monk didn't draw his sword, but just knelt down in front of Dizang.Putting down the Zen stick, holding the long cloth bag with both hands, raising it over the top of the head, he said in a calm and slow voice.

"I have nothing else to ask for, and I will not resist. Karma will eventually be repaid. I just ask the benefactor to finish me with this knife."

With that said, the old monk untied the cloth bag.

The bag slid off, revealing its contents.

It was a long knife with a black scabbard, the black was mixed with some dirty red, and even standing aside could smell the smell of blood on the knife.

There are sword marks all over it, whether it is the scabbard or the handle, it looks undamaged.

It is such a knife, which represents the old monk's other self, a self that he wants to let go of but can't let go of.Since he killed the first person, he was doomed, and he couldn't let go of this karma.

So he can't realize it, and he can't get through it, unless he pays the retribution, that is, takes his own life.

This is his practice, which he has spent his whole life doing.

Dizang was silent for a while, and put away his sword.He should have accepted the old monk's request, he walked up to the old monk, reached out and held the knife.

When the knife was drawn out, the blade was covered with rust. This knife, which had not been drawn out of its sheath for decades, made a clanging sound when it was drawn out.

Dizang held the knife in both hands, raised it up, and stood in front of the old monk, he asked.

"Have you realized anything in the past few decades?"

"I didn't realize anything." The old monk smiled and raised his head, looking at the sword in Dizang's hand.

"But maybe, your sword can fulfill me."

Letting go of this life, he should also be able to let go of karma, let go of the past, and let go of all obsessions.

Let go of it all, so he just crossed over.

"Then, I will fulfill you."

Jizo said lightly, and the rusty blade fell suddenly.

The knife is very fast, so fast that it takes just one thought, but during this thought, the old monk thought of a lot.

He thought of the last rice ball his mother left him, thought of the first person he killed, thought of his indulging in the chaos of the world, thought of the two taps on his forehead by the old abbot, thought of his The moment I woke up, I thought of the word Zen.

He seemed to think of everything, and he seemed to be letting go.

But at this time, a girl who was learning to read appeared in front of his eyes.

The girl turned around and asked him.

Abbot, how do you pronounce this word?

He wanted to answer, but no sound came out.

Then he saw a swallow flying down in front of the hall, and gave a twig to a girl with a scar on her face.

Am I a good person, the girl asked.

He seems to have returned to those times, the evening bell in the twilight, the tea in front of the hall, and the ringing of the New Year's bell in the snow.

The old monk closed his eyes with a wry smile on his face.

He let go of the loneliness and nostalgia of his life.

But can't let go of these things.

That's right, he was lonely all his life, and he only left such a few things behind, how could he let go of them?

"prick!"

The blade cut across, blood splashed out, dyed the petals of the cherry blossoms on the ground red, the great pain and cold engulfed the old monk's consciousness.

Forget it, if you can't let it go, just don't let it go.

As he thought about it, his palms dropped, and when he raised his head, the swirling cherry blossoms occupied his blurred vision.

I really want to drink a cup of tea.

(End of this chapter)