Chapter 13 Thirteen, go home

The longer the days pass, the more desolate the heart will be, because the time when happiness and pain intersect will make the smart heart numb, and in the end, love and hatred will be blurred, and sorrow and joy will be indifferent. How many times can a person witness flowers bloom and fall in a lifetime, and how many encounters and partings do they have to experience?Some people can live a long life calmly, while some people have gone through ups and downs in just a few years.Maybe many people have asked themselves this way, what is the purpose of living, and what are they waiting for.In order to wait for the water to drop through the stone?Waiting for the stubborn stone to nod?Waiting for the iron tree to bloom, or waiting forever?When we see the majestic mountains, the pouring waterfalls, the criss-crossing rice fields, even the Buddha sitting on the futon, holding flowers and smiling, we will feel that human beings are so insignificant.But the dust will also create changing situations and thousands of stories, and people will be looked up to the point of being overwhelmed.

When a person is born, there is no story, and there are no scars.The story may be imposed by fate, but the scars are given by oneself.A piece of smooth and tender skin has been eroded and mottled by the years and wind, no matter how it is nourished, it is impossible to be unscathed.This injury can only wait for someone who understands you to feel pain and cherish it.Or carry it alone, and rush to the bank of the willows, to the rustling snow.Whenever we are at the end of our journey, we always say that it is better to go back, but we don't know that our souls at that time are already alone and alone.

The proud Su Manshu never admits that he is alone. He stubbornly believes that the human events he has experienced in these years are all treasured in the pages of life, falling into exquisite scrolls, and even sealed in the meditation of his thoughts.But in fact, he is so lonely, the people he loved are lost in the past time, the things he passed are lost in the old age, and the road he traveled is hidden in the boundless wind and smoke.The longer the days pass, the more desolate the heart will be, because the time when happiness and pain intersect will make the smart heart numb, and in the end, love and hatred will be blurred, and sorrow and joy will be indifferent.

When you meet someone for the first time, you don't know whether it is fate or robbery. Only when you have loved, hurt, possessed, and lost each other can you know what it is.There are so many passers-by in life, who come and go without knowing why.If one day you are let down by someone, don't be surprised, it's because you once owed him.If there is no debt, he will repay it in the next life if he forms a grass title ring.Su Manshu was in a hurry all the way, he failed so much, could it be that the beauty owed him?If not, when should he pay back what he owes? Twenty-five-year-old Su Manshu spends most of his time in Japan.During this period, I didn't seem to meet too many people, and didn't have too many stories.He was ill and recuperated in Yokohama Hospital, Japan.He painted a "Picture of Wanmei", translated it into a book "The Escape of Sala Beach", and published a book "Literary Karma".The rest of the day he spent his time reading Byron's poems.In fact, in May, due to Zhang Taiyan and Liu Shipei's feud, Liu Shipei and his wife turned their anger on Su Manshu, who moved to another friend.For Su Manshu, who is accustomed to wind and waves, it was like encountering a gentle breeze and drizzle.

I don't know who said that simplicity will make people poor, and loneliness will make people old.In the calm days, Su Manshu would occasionally yearn for the flames of war, only in this way would he feel that life would not be wasted.People are really a contradictory body. When they are busy, they need to find a tranquility, but when they are really quiet, they are afraid of being desolate by time.People think they can control their emotions, but they are often swayed by them.Therefore, each of us must use a method that suits us to complete the mission of existence.The process during this period is thick or light, ups and downs, sad or happy, and it doesn't matter to others.

In September of this year, Su Manshu returned to China and went to Shanghai.In a short time, he came to Hangzhou again and lived in Baiyun Nunnery by the West Lake.Here, Su Manshu lived a desolate life again, because only the mountains and rivers of the West Lake and the bells and drums of the monastery could tolerate his waywardness.His arrival seemed to be receiving the Buddha's punishment, but also seemed to be receiving the Buddha's mercy.If it weren't for the cursed life, how could it be so reincarnated.Living in a temple is better than wandering alone in the world. Although he is not used to the dull life in the nunnery, he still needs such a quiet place to rest. A small building, after hiding in, you can ignore the spring, autumn, winter and summer.

Su Manshu, as always, refused to follow the rules and didn't follow the rules. He spent all his money, borrowed it from the abbot of the temple, and remitted it all to Shanghai, so that the kabuki he met before could buy a lot of candy.He locked himself in the hut and enjoyed it to his heart's content, and he had no scruples at the feet of the Buddha, so he lived in a daze.His behavior was so incomprehensible, but the Buddha also tolerated him and could not bear to blame him, as if it was not surprising that any weird things happened to him.Because Su Manshu lived too real, he let his heart go, because his heart was not dusty, and he didn't want to cover it up, because he couldn't be hypocritical.No one can speak harshly to criticize a person who speaks the truth and lives the truth.

There are so many brothel singers in the past, but they have never seen him so lonely and decadent, because his loneliness and decadence are always when there is no one.Only those who walked into his heart knew that there was a damp and weak heart hidden under his glamorous appearance.Su Manshu thought that her muddy heart was the most suitable for growing elegant and clean lotus flowers. In fact, all the beautiful plants and trees in this world are planted in the soil.Only the lotus grows in the mud, which is more holy and flawless than other flowers and trees. She was given a sacred mission by the Buddha, and this mission will never change from generation to generation.

Among all living beings, there will always be some legendary figures whose uniqueness leaves a deep impression on people.Some people remember their appearance, some people remember their life experience, some people remember their temperament, and some people remember their stories and emotions, but what people remember about Su Manshu is his personality. Half monk, half vulgar, his footprints wandered, and his dewy love affair with countless beauties. Maybe we shouldn't blame him for being so restless, let alone that he lives in a troubled world, and there is no life in a troubled world that is not disturbed.It is only said that he is a lone goose. The heart of a lone goose has the beauty of floating because it likes the white clouds and the breeze.Reluctantly putting a wild goose in a cage, preventing it from being bullied by the wind and rain, and asking it to adapt to a kind of stability is not kindness, but cruelty, just like exiling fish on the shore, planting trees in water, A plum blossom moves to the summer to bloom, and a Ticicada turns to the cold winter to die.

Not long after, Su Manshu transferred from Baiyun Nunnery to live in Taoguang Nunnery. Here, he seems to be more restrained than in Baiyun Nunnery.Although he can't change his habit of gluttony, he still acts like a monk in his spare time, meditating and drinking tea, chanting scriptures and writing poems, and when he is in a good mood, he will have morning and evening classes with the monks in the temple , Gathering to study the Bible, although his thinking is always more agile and jumping than others.The monastery was originally his home outside the world of mortals. If it wasn't for Su Manshu's meditative meditation here, there might not be so many changes in his future life. It's just that many generations of eminent monks have been accomplished in the history of Buddhism, and his name is in it.He is always arranged on the edge of the dust inside and outside the dust, and he comes to the world as a passer-by, making people want to forget, but always think of him.

Each of us will sigh that life is so thin after walking a certain distance.Because no matter how hard you try to leave any traces or occupy a place in history, but come and go in a hurry, you are always just a passerby.In the vastness of time, we are just a tiny speck of dust, and we can never be the masters of our destiny.I came to the world when I was unconscious, tasted all kinds of human feelings, and left with reluctance and regret.Knowing that all the endings are the same, and there is no news of the same, but still care about all the process, care about the surprise and sadness, pain and touch brought by the process. Su Manshu also cared, because he cared, so he couldn't stay in one place quietly, but chose to let himself float around.He is afraid of loneliness, afraid that his short life will end in loneliness.A person's life is pieced together by many fragments of time, and the combination of fragments is long.To record a person is to record the stories of his experience and his lifelong love.All of these need fate. When you like someone, sometimes you can’t tell the reason, but that feeling cannot be replaced by others, so you believe that you are destined to be with him. In Taoguang Nunnery, Su Manshu heard the sound of cuckoos at night, made a picture of "Listening to Cuckoos", and wrote a poem to Liu San.The poem says: "Liu San used to be a passionate kind, wandering in mist and mist for another year. Recently, if you feel sorry for poetry, why not listen to cuckoo with me." In fact, Su Manshu's life is not wandering in mist and mist, we can pick it up , just some scattered fragments of his life.How many stories have been around for a long time, and when the vicissitudes of life are full, we have ignored the plots that have happened.I just want to listen to a cuckoo crowing on a night in late spring, it's better to go back, it's better to go back...