That day there was evening sunshine, a myriad of colors intertwined, black was you, brown was the wet eyes of Dryer when he was born, he looked at me as if everything had been predestined; pink and white was the apricot's newly faded light clothing; red was the begonias blooming in the yard, they were as brilliant as ever; blue was the clear sky illuminated by the glittering water of the West Lake; orange was the neckline when I first met you The color is the color of the embroidered flowers on my lapel when I first met you; purple is the flower of the sycamore tree that I loved most in my childhood; white is me.
Time will fly to my window on a winged white horse, taking away my reluctance and your thoughts.
Life is like a reverse journey, and I am a pedestrian.
"Mr., this is goodbye, Chaoyun, no regrets in life." I finally exhausted the candle flame of life, in the misty eyes of tears on a white horse, flying to Mr. Poetry Kingdom.
(II)
The day I was born there was evening sunshine, large swaths of red and orange covered the blue-white sky, purple sycamore flowers fell all over the ground, infinite fragrance entwined in the tip of my nose that had just been exposed to the air, and this was the first breath of air I took. My cries shook down a few of the tung blossoms, but they did not vibrate my father's heart. He wanted a son, a son who could carry on his family's legacy, who could sweat with him in the blazing wheat fields, and who could even earn a title and enter the civil service. Unfortunately, I am not.
The father cursed out of the low earth house, picked up the hoe thrown in the firewood side of the hoe and like the field to go, he rushed to the head of the mother covered with cold, shouting: "Remember to send food and water at noon! He was still lying down, why do I have to keep my work?"
Mother answered in a low voice, and her sweaty hand touched my cheek.
"Why aren't you a man?" she said. She said.
Mother dragged her heavy body up, her thin body wrapped in a wide black dress and pants that crumpled with sweat. I lay on my back and saw my dilapidated home through the window, and I heard my mother scooping up the water and pouring it into the jar, and the water gurgled, and she poured it for a long, long time, long enough for me to be able to stand, walk, and run, and long enough for my brother to be born.
I stood under the sycamore tree and watched my father carefully hold my brother as if he were some rare treasure, he sat beside my mother, his fingers blackened by dirt stroked my brother's head, he looked at my mother as if he were looking at an endless wheat field, he said, "I won't go to the field at noon today, you rest, I'll go and cook you two eggs. " Niang nodded sweetly and then glanced at me.
I understood what Mother meant before Father had even gotten to the stove, and I darted over and grabbed the eggs out of Father's hand.
"Father, I'll do it. You go and spend more time with your brother."
Father smiled at me, and the wind blew through the dogwoods on the wall in a flash, and they made the crisp clatter of bowls and pots clashing, and the little yellow dog next door barking, and I cracked the eggs into the hot, bubbling water, and the whites flipped quickly to white as if in a dance, and the yolks were wrapped up like my brother wrapped up in snow-white mattresses. I wiped away the tears from the heat and it flowed back out of my mouth. Sorrow and joy have no place in the face of hunger. I look at my hot red fingers and wonder what the future holds.
When we ate, father and mother looked at me and smiled, I looked at my brother and smiled, and mother even gave me half of her egg, which was the best thing I had eaten in my life so far. At night, I slept alone in the utility room, accompanied by my little quilt and a sky full of stars. Laughter in the side yard, the lonely sycamore to look at self-pity.
(3)
When I woke up again, there was no longer a mud wall mixed with straw and debris in front of my eyes, but reddish-black wooden beams. The extremely beautiful woman stroked my face with her onion-white fingers.
"Your parents don't want you, it's pitiful, you'll be with me from now on." Her body radiates the fragrance of cinnamon. "Call me Aunt Gui, what's your name again? I forgot, just call Dynasty Cloud." She said and looked out the window, outside the breeze blowing, clouds flying.
It turns out that yesterday's egg was the last of my parents' feelings for me. I tried to remember the flavor of that egg, but my mouth was empty, nothing. I also wanted to shed a little tears, or let the sadness in my heart well up to the tip of my nose, but in addition to the houses crawling with cobwebs, the wheat manes that cut through my cheeks, the fire-like blazing sun, and the curses of my parents, there was only the endless dawn and night.
I pursed my lips and sat up, Aunt Gui looked at me, "From now on you have to start learning to sing and dance, I have girls here, some can sing, the voice like the oriole in the spring, some good dance, dance like the egret in the water to fly, some colorful, winking eyes like a silk seductive, and some pure, like just from the water out of the lotus, you ah, see how you find a place to live in the world. earthly world to find a home."
"Here, can't I stay here for the rest of my life?" Aunt Gui's brow with a smile, than parents always with a knife eyes let me feel warm, not to mention her hands, stroking my face, gentle and slow, mother stroking my brother should be the same.
"Here?" Aunt Gui raised her willow eyebrows lightly and pulled me to the door, "Look, what is here?"
I followed Aunt Gui's finger and looked, carved beams and painted buildings, dancers and carvings, literati, talented people, reciting poetry, silk and bamboo messing with the ears, singing and dancing. In the center of the stage, skirts flew around, vermilion and jade clashed, she was like a phoenix, her fluttering feathers sowing streaming clouds behind her, and all the birds flew towards her, bringing flowers and green leaves with them. She tilted her head, a bit of red on her brow, but tears traced the corners of her eyes.
"Why?" I asked Aunt Cinnamon.
"The body never dances for itself. "Aunt Gui said.
How many goblets, how much gold and silver, have come for her, and where is she going? Who will remember her when she is old and gray?
I began to recognize words, to read music, to learn to dance, to practice the piano. I learned quickly, and I know that it was the mountains and rivers that gave me my aura. I met a lot of people, Aunt Gui said nature has a point, this place full of conflagration sound, how can be taken as a homecoming? The flowers are red and green, either fantasizing about being taken home by a nobleman, or drunk today and never asking about the future. Aunt Gui called her Hongyu, the dancer that day. Jade does not remember her own life, she was abducted and sold here a long, long time ago, and the only thing left for her in the past was the vermilion sand on her brow. Jade loved poetry and often taught me. Later, a very like her Li Gongzi appeared, but due to livelihood constraints can not come day to day, Gongzi every time to bring the words of the manuscript, one after another to let Hongyu sing.
I asked Jade why no one knew about the many words Mr. Li wrote, and Jade replied with a smile, "I'm the only one who understands him.
Day after day, year after year, this year, is my ten-year-old birthday. Hongyu quietly pulled me aside.
"I want to follow Mr. Li." She said, and as she spoke, the mole on her brow was so red that it almost dripped blood.
"Has he ever taken the examination?" I asked her, I vaguely remembered that Mr. Li was still depressed when he arrived.
"No, but I have no complaints." Hongyu smiled.
"How do you live?"
"Wanderlust? Don't know. But I know that from now on, my dance will only be for him, and I will only sing his words. "In that moment, I remembered the teardrops in the corner of Hongyu's eyes when I first met her.
The warblers and butterflies are dancing and the sharks are red, and the bald brush and broken inkstone are poor.
Hongyu left her poetry collection to me. I'm not going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it. I like those literati. I'm not sure how much I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it.
(4)
Hongyu has been gone for two years, I have never received a letter from her, not even the gossip in other people's mouths. I imagined her life, perhaps she and Mr. Li living in a courtyard full of pomegranates, Mr. Li composing poems and lyrics every day, and Hongyu grinding and adding fragrance, is an enviable life.
Suddenly one day, I received a letter from Hongyu. She said she was coming back and wondered if Aunt Gui would still take her in. I didn't know what had happened and couldn't question her. I dreamed every night that Hongyu, covered in blood, stood in the center of the stage and danced, spinning over and over again. I dreamed that Hong Yu and Mr. Li were hugging each other, shivering in the rainy night. I dreamed that Mr. Li left Hong Yu alone and went far away by himself. In all her dreams, Hong Yu had no home to go back to and was lost. I went to Auntie Gui and begged her to let Hongyu come back. I'm not sure where to send the letter, but I can't find out.
(5)
That day the sun was shining, shining on the West Lake, the water rippled, as if the gods had descended.
In the pavilion at the center of the lake, the silk and bamboo were melodious, and I had a red mole on my brow, just like a red jade. I danced the dance she danced back then, every spin, every time I raised my hand, I thought of Hongyu, what was she thinking of when she danced for Mr. Li? Why did she come back? Isn't Mr. Li the place to be? Then where is my home? All the questions are unanswered. I am just one of the millions of ordinary people in this world, unable to influence the government, unable to change the world, and even unable to control my own destiny. I was just dancing in the wind, like an egret taking flight. My eyes suddenly blurred, tears crossed.
Raising my eyes again, I met the eyes of one person, like Mr. Li, the eyes of the literati.
After a dance, the water-red color of the dance costume faded, I changed back to the green and green clothes that I usually like, wiped away the mole on my eyebrow, and cleaned my face. Gorgeous makeup always makes me feel false, like wearing a beautiful shackle. I can't see myself clearly.
Serving wine, I have done it many times. It's just a matter of putting on a smile and saying something nice to make people happy.
In dark clothes, the clouds came with their skirts and drove away the children who kept on playing, and looked at the earth angrily, and started to rain. The rain hit the surface of the lake sporadically, ripples, the mountains and water, the earth changed the scenery.
The person beside him suddenly stood up and walked towards the pavilion, "Good scenery, really good scenery, good scenery and beauty, thick makeup and light color is always appropriate!" He faced the lake water and sighed.
He came over and brushed his hand over my shoulder.
"Come, sharpen the ink for me!"
Am I the beauty he speaks of?
I lifted my sleeve to grind, from slow to fast, and watched the ink block turn to juice under my own hands, as if the February River had opened and the ice cream had been liberated.
"The water is glistening and clear, the mountains are misty and the rain is strange. I want to compare the West Lake to Xizi, light makeup and thick smear is always appropriate."
This is not the first time I've watched someone write a poem, and it is indeed the first time someone has written a poem for me. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but I'm sure it's a good idea. I watched as the verses flowed out along the tip of the pen, and his eyes, the ones I had just met, were depressed and lost. Yet now, these eyes, full of pleasure, seemed to suck the daylight in, so the weather changed suddenly.
"What's your name?" He asked me.
"My slave name is Chaoyun, Dynasty Cloud." I still looked at the poem, memorizing it silently. It was bound to be a poem that would be passed down through the ages. The sunny and rainy West Lake leaps off the page.
"Good, do you have words? "
"No words."
"I think the word 'Zixia' is the most wonderful, you look at the clouds in the sky, just like you." I followed his hand and looked, I don't know when, the rain stopped and the haze came out, the most beautiful colors in the world mixed together, like a phoenix spreading its wings, occupying the sky.
"Thank you, sir." I salute. The scene of Aunt Gui naming me surfaced again.
"This one is gifted to you." Sir added. I was ashamed that he caught me staring at the writing. I saw the inscription, Su Zizhan. He was Hongyu's favorite wordsmith, that great man of letters known throughout the world, Su Shi!
The evening sun shone on my face, burning it. I couldn't wait to have the words for myself, to hang him above my bed, but I was ashamed of my identity, a feeling of inferiority that I had never felt before rose from the cracks of my bones, and for the first time I felt pain for my own identity, how good it would have been if I had been a woman from an ordinary family like my mother. I saw Aunt Gui's face full of smiles as she stood behind the gentleman, and my friends behind her in heavy makeup, why should I meet him at this moment?
I hid my hands behind my back, afraid that he would see my Fengxian grass-stained red fingernails, which would stain the snow-white paper. He is not a fallen poet like Li Gongzi, he is a star I dare not touch.
"Take it, I'll take you home." He touched my head and smiled, "You're still a little girl."
"Little girls are also stunningly beautiful!" His friend laughed and handed him another glass of wine.
What does it mean to go home? I can't sleep tonight. I have only lived through a mere twelve years of spring and fall, what will become of me?
Is Mr. Su trying to give me a homecoming? My hand stroked over the book of poems that Hongyu had given me, and the poems rolled and scalded across my heart.
Mr. said, " You are an untainted, unique existence. "
(vi)
I then went home with Mr., which at the same time would be my home. All my senses and apertures of mind were opened and I kept experiencing and learning. Madame and Monsieur were a good match. They both treated me very well. I have learned a lot of things.
I stayed in the study all day long, studying ink and incense for Mr. I read Buddhist scriptures when Mr. was not around. The Buddha said: "The fate is to go, the fate is to get together, the fate is to be born, the fate is to go out, the fate is to be born, the fate is to be born, the fate is to be born, the fate is to be born, the fate is to be born, the fate. It was fate that brought me and Mr. Kennedy together. I was born in Qiantang, and I was born in Hangzhou, and I was born in Qiantang, and I was born in Qiantang, and I was born in Qiantang. I often danced and sang the songs composed by Mr. Yu. I am finally like Hongyu. But what about Hongyu? How is Hongyu doing? Has she gone back? Will she blame me for not waiting for her.
I suddenly felt a coolness coming, startling my deepest fear, my life trajectory gradually overlapped with Hongyu, I looked in the mirror, my eyebrows seem to have grown out of the vermillion mole, my in a flash into Hongyu's face, Hongyu in the mirror said to me, "You don't belong here. Go back."
I pushed the mirror away violently, and in my haste I pushed something on the table to the ground with a loud clatter.
Sir came following the sound, and I sat on my knees and looked at him.
"Look, sir, is there a red mole on my brow?"
Sir shook his head and gently flicked my forehead.
"Do you have a story to tell me?" Sir sits down on the ground as well, even spreading the pastry in his hand in the middle, and handing it to me.
I put the pastry in my mouth and the sweetness filled my taste buds. I started from the beginning, from the half an egg given to me by my mother all the way to the first time I met Mr. I magnified my nightmare infinitely and told Mr. all the details, I hated to stuff my dream into Mr. dream. When I finished, my heart was much calmer. I continued chewing on my pastry and realized that I was back to my old self in the mirror.
"Get up! " Sir reached out his hand to pull me. "You must remember that I am not Mr. Li, and you are not Hongyu."
We stood together, "You see, we stand in the same place, you don't need to hide behind all the time, you can have an equal relationship with me and everyone else." Mister's hand was warm and strong, infusing me with strength.
"How did you feel when you first met me?"
"You had something on your mind, but you were forlorn between pushes."
"And the poem? Why were you mesmerized by it?"
"The scenery of West Lake is just like the beauty of Xizi, the beauty is in the divine charm, so no matter whether it is sunny or rainy, no matter whether it is thickly made up or light. The gentleman who wrote the poem was suddenly cheerful and the gloom was swept away." I carefully recalled the gentleman's demeanor.
"Yes, yes, that's it! Chaoyun, do you know that a thousand pieces of gold are easy to get, but a confidant is hard to find?"
"You, sir, consider me a confidant?" I was like someone who had never seen snow being covered with snow, in ecstasy fearing that the snow and ice would dissipate and everything would become empty.
"Do you understand all the poems you read? What are they written for? " the gentleman asked me again.
"Western Han Sima's said 'Poetry' 300, at the end of the sages in anger for the work also. This person are all intention to have some depression, can not pass the way, so the past, thinking of the future.' Chaoyun believes that today's literati and writers, writing poetry and lyrics but for the expression of inner feelings. Those who chase after fame and profit to make flattering words are not worth mentioning." I replied.
Mr. suddenly patted his stomach and said, "I just came back from the court. "
Mr. patting his stomach look naive and ridiculous, I snickered, "I guess, Mr. full of anachronisms!"
Mr. tilted his head and laughed, "Know me as Chaoyun!" He patted me on the shoulder, "'You are an untainted and unique being.' I have said before, you and I are confidants, needless to be trapped by mundane things, become yourself."
It turns out that I have already found the path of life, but I have been blinded by the past.
I understand! I look at the eyes of the world, belongs to me, my eyes flowers, plants, insects and fish all with my life poetry, existence is the meaning, I will not be anyone's shadow, I have their own soul and value. I have my own soul and value. I am equal to all people, there is no physical world, only the collision of the spirit.
That night, I looked at the first time Mr. gifted me the ink, the light of the moon shone on my face, I will catch that light and put it on my heart, my whole person became bright and fearless.
(7)
Mr. political life is not as good as expected, was relegated again and again, I watched Mr. full of passion was doused with cold water, I can only do is to accompany Mr. moving from place to place, for him to solve the problem.
Huizhou remote, not suitable for dragging the family. And I am alone, with the gentleman, the end of the world, knife mountain and fire, and what harm?
"Sir, we count this as a wanderer? "I ran out of the sedan chair, with Mr. **** up a horse.
The wind whistled past my ears as I spurred the horse.
"Rolling in the dust, the beauty of the company, what more could a man ask for!" Mr. laughed.
(H)
The flower faded red green apricot small. The first time I saw this, I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new one, and you'll be able to do it. The first thing you need to do is to get a good deal of money and a good deal of money.
The wall swing outside the wall. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on a new one, and you'll be able to do that. The first thing you need to do is to get rid of all the stuff that you've got in your pocket.
The song "Butterfly Lovers" is the main theme of Huizhou.
Every time I sing to the "willow on the branches and blow less" I always can not hide the melancholy, sadness can not be suppressed, and even times can not finish singing. I can't finish the song. I can only choke on my tears.
Mr. asked me why.
"I can't finish the song," he said, "but I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to finish it. "
"I am sad about the fall, and you are starting to hurt the spring." Mr. stroked the zither, "That's all, if you can't finish singing, then don't sing."
The wind blew down the willow on the branch, and it fell to the ground, so the grass grew. The fate of Mr. Wang is just like the willow sheep, fluttering, do not know where to go. "The first time I saw this, I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night. But Mr. is not a depressed person, Mr.'s broadmindedness can hold a hundred rivers, "Bamboo stick and shoes are lighter than a horse, who is afraid? A straw raincoat rain and smoke to let the life." This is the attitude of Mr. life, such a sentence, is not a mediocre generation can write?
Mr. moved around a lot of places, no matter how the place, he can find things that make people happy. Even Huizhou, such a barbaric place, Mr. can "? Mouthful of lychee three hundred, do not quit long as Lingnan people. "Mr. can also be happy in the midst of bitterness.
Such a Mr., with me as a confidant, I have the honor.
But Mr. told me that he was also lucky to have me as a companion.
But he told me that he was also lucky to have me as his companion.
If the worlds of two people can be intertwined, then it will be a great fortune for the world.
(IX)
Mr. Wang has been relegated to several posts and has been displaced several times. The first time I saw him, I was in the middle of the night, and he was in the middle of the night. I followed him all the way.
We were like the most common peasant couple, worrying about the lack of rice for the pot, the house would leak, and there would be rats running around. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if Mr. just a down-and-out poet like Mr. Li, and we would have stayed here forever, until the sycamore tree died of old age and new seeds broke through the ground. When I think of Mr. Li, I think of Hongyu. I once wrote to Aunt Gui inquiring about Hongyu, but I did not receive a reply for a long time. I stopped thinking about it, and the red mole on my brow never appeared again. But Hongyu will never disappear in my life.
Yuanfeng six years September 27, a brown-eyed child was born. I watched Mr. hold and tease the child and laughed like a child myself. Father looked at his brother with the same eyes as Mr. Now. The fear inside filled up again.
"What if, he is a daughter?" I asked Mr. Obviously asking, I wanted to close my ears tightly again, afraid to hear the answer.
"If he is a daughter, he must be as intelligent and lovely as you!" Mr. said, looking at me with determined eyes.
The leaves outside the window suddenly fell, swaying back and forth and eventually coming to rest on the ground. Mr. Su named the child "Su Tan" (遁). The word "recluse" is taken from the 37th hexagram of the I Ching, which means to stay away from the political whirlpool, to disappear, to go back to the meaning of this hexagram, the lines of the hexagram say: "Jia recluse, chaste and auspicious," "Good recluse, the gentleman is auspicious". Mr. Looking forward to recluse also look forward to his son have a good life.
I named him Gan'er. I was so happy to see him, and he always smiled at me. How can there be such a lovely little thing in the world, more delicate than the flowers of March, brighter than the sunshine of April, warmer than the breeze of May, I love him like my life. I will give him all the best things in the world, the stars, the moon, whatever he wants. I hugged him, and the softness of my touch made me feel the reality of my existence even more. I am his eternal home.
(X)
Doom always comes without notice. I thought the thing that would grieve me most would be to receive a letter from Aunt Gui at last but to be told of Hongyu's death, not realizing that something even more despairing would happen.
Mr. received an edict in March, he was changed to Ruzhou regimentation deputy envoy. In the middle of April, I embraced the dry child and Mr. departed.
On July 28, the ship arrived at the Jinling River. The sun was blazing, and the nine suns that Hou Yi had shot off seemed to be back in the sky, and the boat was shining hot underneath. Dryer's forehead was burning like fire, and he kept vomiting, unable to open his eyes. I I kept wiping his body with a handkerchief moistened with water, drop after drop of my sweat dripped on his face, and I couldn't wipe it off. His body was next to mine and could burn me like it was. I didn't know what to do, tears and sweat mixed together and smashed on the floor, my heart was bleeding too, it hurt so much it couldn't beat anymore.
Mr. grabbed the boatman's oars, rowing desperately, the boat to the midstream, how can not move forward, the waves continue to beat the hull, then splashed into the cabin.
Mr. Kohl's oars are still being used.
Dryer's body became cooler, was it my body heat that made him lose his fever? But why is his body not even undulating anymore?
The water, without emotion, splashed into my arms.
Dryer went cold.
I flung myself over, pulling Mister.
"Don't row, don't row, there is water everywhere, the boat is going to sink!" Mr. can't hear as if he can't hear. He was mouthing Dryer's name and his eyes were looking nowhere.
"Don't row, Dryer, it's gone." At that moment, the tears that had built up in my chest finally broke out. Dryer was motionless in my arms, carved out of wood.
Mr. finally stopped moving. He knelt down and hugged Dryer and me.
The sound of running water continued.
Mr. long sigh: I am forty-nine years old, I lost my son. The youngest son is really my son, and his eyebrows are already similar. I was not sure what I wanted to do, but I was limbering up for the day. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it," he said. I am not sure if I can do this, but I am sure that I can do it.
I've cut my heart out, and the world has been dark ever since. The so-called destiny, the original so cruel, destiny is over, on the life and death forever.
(XI)
Mr. Wang was on the boat and took me and my son back to Changzhou.
After all these years, the scenery and people of Changzhou are the most beautiful in my heart.
Mr. Kennedy held my hand and told me that I still have him. I have no idea, he has also long been in mourning. He even attributed the death of the dry child to himself, into infinite self-blame.
Suddenly taken away, the bad karma I tired! The first thing I'd like to say is that I don't want to be a part of it, but I want to be a part of it," he said. I am not sure if I can do this, but I am not sure if I can do it.
When I was breastfeeding late at night, I always thought of my son's soft body, close to me, our hearts beating together.
Now I have only one heart left.
The moon does not shine on my son's face.
(XII)
After many years, Mr. and Mrs. were reappointed and we were reunited. Mr. and Mrs. are still as close as they were back then. I don't often go out, so I am in my study, reading and writing, thinking of my godchildren.
(xiii)
Two years passed, Mr. and sidelined, as Hangzhou. The old place is back, and Mr. is welcomed by the people. Mr. and I agreed to make a contribution to the people of Hangzhou.
I returned to the singing and dancing class while Mr. Gui was away on disaster relief.
Auntie Gui was still there, but with wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, the carved beams and paintings were much worn out, the stage was dusty, and the pavilions were empty and deserted. I asked about the cause of death of Hongyu. Auntie Gui, however, asked me what that question was: "Have you found a home?"
"I found." I answered.
"What do you think Hongyu died of?"
"Because of love."
"What is love?"
"He and I stood in the same place, with equal souls."
I have walked miles with Mr. I have enjoyed a life of brocade and a life of cloth and thorns, we have had children and lost them together. I have been shorter than him, and he told me to stand up, and I have been uneasy about being dependent on him, and he said he needed me immensely too.
"You've grown." Aunt Katsura's hand caressed my face. "Remember, your dance should be for yourself." She looked out the window, "Go, go and join him in the relief efforts, the people need you."
(XIV)
After that, many changes came one after another, the lady died, Mr. was relegated, fortune turned down, Mr. I am afraid that it is difficult to have a day of recovery. The people around Mr. are dispersed one after another.
Mr. deported to Huizhou, nearly a year, sideburns all white, I watched Mr. gray hair flying in the air. Mr. lifetime wandering around, hesitation but always failed, and now was relegated to the southern barbaric land. Now that I am here, I can still accompany Mr., for him to solve his problems, if I am not here, Mr. is neither alone, and who is there to listen to his complaints.
"Chaoyun, you see, we are like this is not considered a wanderer?" Mr. turned back, his eyes curved into a crescent moon, and his words were cheerful and spontaneous.
"Count! Of course it is, with you, a lifetime of no regrets!" Mr. still not immersed in suffering, why should I secretly hurt! Still optimistic and cheerful in the midst of embarrassment, this is exactly what I appreciate Mr. ah!
Life in the world, such as in the thorns, the heart does not move, people do not move, do not move is not hurt; such as the heart is moving, people move, hurt its body pain its bones, and then experienced the world of pain. Mr. Transcendence, not to dwell on the suffering, the heart does not move, naturally can be happy in the pain, the moon into the bosom.
(15)
Lingnan plague rampant, the climate is harsh and sultry, and I was not defeated. Even if you are looking for a doctor to take your medication and recite the sutras, I know that the days I can be with you are getting fewer and fewer.
One day, the sun was shining, just like the day we first met. I wanted to go for a walk with him, and he saw that I was still in good spirits, so he agreed.
We walked along the shore of the lake, where the breeze was cool and the waves were sparkling.
I sang the song "Butterfly Lovers" again, "The flowers have faded and the red apricot is small. The first time I saw this, it was a very good time for me to go back to the old days. The willow on the branches of the willow sheep blowing and less." The reluctance and attachment to Mr. like boiling in the bottom of my heart, cooing and bubbling hot, smoked my tears.
"Mr. ah, slave still can not sing this next line."
"The sky is the limit." Mr. took me in his arms, "If you can't sing it, I'll sing it for you." Mister must have thought of parting as well, and his voice was tinted with a salty sadness.
"Then you, too, must live for me."
The gentleman nods, lightly and invisibly.
(xvi)
"All existent law, such as dreams and bubbles, such as dew and electricity, should be viewed as such."
No regrets in this life. May I, in my next life, when I attain Bodhi, have a body like glass, clear inside and out, and pure and unblemished.