Chapter 28 Twenty-eight, calamity

The world of mortals is dim, and we often feel that we have nowhere to hide, from this town to that city, wandering through life.When you are down and down, you have to kneel down and beg for mercy for a plant, and you have to bow your head to a speck of dust. Floating life is like a dream, the end of one scene is the beginning of another.On the colorful stage of history, how many people's stories are thrilling, and how many people's stories are dull.All the people who have been to this world, as well as the things that exist in this world, will leave some traces no matter when they are withdrawn from this world.That summer, we witnessed the long journey of a pond of lotus from growing to withering.And in that autumn, I saw a red leaf leave the branch and all the details of flying to the ground.

A person's life is like grass and trees, sprouting in spring and wilting in autumn. We have experienced a lot, but the fragments that can be remembered are so small.One day, when you want to say goodbye to this world, you don't know what to take away and what to leave as a gift to the world.In the four seasons of life, there are always too many scenery that we can't read endlessly, and we can meet endless people.The encounter between people is fate, and the encounter between people and scenery is also fate.When the fate comes, even the ends of the earth will hold hands, and after the fate disappears, we will not be able to meet each other even if we are close to each other.The world of mortals is dim, and we often feel that we have nowhere to hide, from this town to that city, wandering through life.When you are down and down, you have to kneel down and beg for mercy for a plant, and you have to bow your head to a speck of dust.

This summer is not short for Su Manshu.He took a boat to pick lotus, met Li Qingzhao of the Song Dynasty, and had a poetic conversation with her.He got acquainted with actors Xiao Ruyi and Yang Yuelou, which made him deeply feel the coldness of life like a play.These days, he often goes to listen to operas, yearning for the joys and sorrows in the operas alone.He even had the urge to put on costumes, put on makeup, go on stage to dance some water sleeves, and sing a few Beijing accents.Su Manshu hopes that he can also write an opera in his lifetime, let his favorite actors perform vividly, give the story a beginning like summer, and a death that is as beautiful as autumn leaves.

These nights, Su Manshu writes at his desk, accompanied by only a faint lamp, the breeze and bright moon outside the window, and the tireless chirping of cicadas.After his novel "The Story of Non-Dreams" was completed, it was published in "Novel Grand View" at the appointment of Bao Tianxiao. However, this novel also became Su Manshu's last work in this life.What I like the most is the artistic conception in his text, the clouds and green pines, the old monk in the ancient temple, the vast world, a love. "The sea and the sky are as wide as nine heights deep, fly down to the shade of the pines and listen to the drum and piano. Where will tomorrow be? Baiyun has no heart with you." The torrential flow of water and light.Life is like a dream but not a dream. If you think about it, this story also ends with parting. On a foggy morning, the person in the story drifts away on the rugged mountain road with a simple bag on his back.

Su Manshu likes to read "Four Dreams of Linchuan" by Tang Xianzu.Those dreams made him realize that life is disillusioned and impermanent, that marriage is predestined in a previous life, and that wealth cannot last forever.People think that living in a dream can forget all kinds of sufferings in reality, but they don’t know that after waking up from the dream, the boundless loneliness will strike and completely tear your originally perfect heart.What a beautiful love in the book, life can die, death can live, all can be described by the author with a smart pen. A drama that never ends in the dream of youth.

He felt that his life was like a dream in Nanke, just like the carved buildings and painted buildings, butterflies dancing and warblers in Nanke dream, but his life was wandering and lonely.Many people think that Su Manshu's life is ambiguous, and his waywardness makes him fall in love with wandering and indulge in wine and sex.In fact, only he himself understands that he has been fooled by sobriety, and he has a deep understanding of this world when he has been practicing in seclusion in the monastery for several months.When he realized that there was nowhere to learn, he experienced the deep loneliness in his heart.In this world, there is only one Sakyamuni, only one Lao Tzu, only one Xuanyuan, and Su Manshu thought he had only one, so he refused to live up to his only life until his death, even though he paid for this freedom. An unbearable price for ordinary people.

A red leaf fell on the window sill, which seemed to remind Su Manshu that autumn has really arrived, and the favorite season of the four seasons just arrived just like that.The fragrant leaves are like fire, the high sky washes the clouds, the pine needles spit green, and the setting sun melts gold.He remembered what Du Liniang once said, that one's hobbies in one's life are natural.Yes, no matter what kind of cold person, sinful person, or shallow person you are, you cannot resist the temptation of spring flowers and autumn moon.Su Manshu felt that he was a reed in autumn, lonely and desolate, he could see through the scenery of the world, but no one could truly understand his heart.In this life, the true confidant is the poems in his pen, the ink in his paintings, the wooden fish in his meditation room, the cherry blossoms in Japan, and the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River.

This autumn, Su Manshu was plagued by illness, and the autumn rain hit his unclosed poems, awakening his vague dreams.He always dreams these days, and when he wakes up, he feels a kind of exhaustion that he has never experienced before, his heart is so cold that he has no blood, and the journey that was once turbulent is now calm.He was admitted to a certain hospital on Joffre Road, where he listened to the rain every day.In the past, I always thought that life was like vines, entangled in thousands of ways on the wall of the years, endlessly.Now I seem to understand that the vines in autumn will also wither and fall, and sometimes they cannot be brought back to life.He is the withered vine in autumn, with his green clothes off, the brilliance falls in the season and is returned to the fleeting year.

This is the first time Su Manshu has bowed his head to fate, and he has thought of accepting fate before, but he has never been so weak, and his bones make weak voices.Su Manshu was afraid of being hospitalized. White in his heart meant holiness, but the hospital gave him a hint of death.In the hospital, he saw with his own eyes the patient who had talked and laughed happily with him yesterday, and fell asleep peacefully under a white cloth the next day.The nurses called angels in white gave him all kinds of instructions, hid the candy he put under the pillow, and extinguished the cigarette he had just lit.Su Manshu was still so self-willed. Before he fully recovered from his illness, he resolutely left the hospital despite the doctor's dissuasion.

After being discharged from the hospital, Su Manshu lived in Xinminli. Seeing the autumn leaves falling one after another, he felt an indescribable sadness in his heart.When he was lonely, he began to miss the life in the monastery deeply. Although he was quiet, he felt at ease.The compassionate Buddha will forgive all the sins committed by the world. His compassionate eyes can relieve your pain and make death less desolate.I can't go back, I want to go back to Changshou Temple where I became a monk for the first time, and be a little monk who sweeps fallen leaves, grows vegetables and flowers, chops firewood and carries water.Alone, with one heart, sitting on a lonely cliff and watching the clouds rise, letting the world flourish and flourish, he is only a mustard seed before Buddha.

In these years, Su Manshu has traveled all over the world and experienced too many stories, but how much can he control the endless world?He doesn't know whether he is deeply bound to Buddha or dust in his life. He only knows that Buddha is his painting and dust is his poem, and the two cannot be separated.This late autumn, Su Manshu put on his cassock and lived in the depths of the world of mortals, watching the lonely wind and the autumn leaves turning into mud.He had a premonition that he would never step into the gate of the monastery again in this life, and maybe he could only listen to the long-lost bell in the next life.After all, he still has to be reincarnated and reincarnated. Taking stock of this life, he should have gained more than lost. Su Manshu often tells his friends that he can sense his past life and predict his future.They believed that Su Manshu was a person with extraordinary aura, but they couldn't agree with some mysterious claims.A monk who has read scriptures, knocked on wooden fish, and studied Buddhism and Zen principles is naturally different from ordinary people.He even often said that he could predict the future of mankind and save the world from suffering.We should believe in His mercy, and should even be moved to tears by His mercy.It's just a pity that what he got before the Buddha was only a little magic power, and he couldn't even save himself. Doomed.Su Manshu saw the first snow of this winter, and wrote these four words with a pen: doomed, and superstitiously believe that the doomed disaster cannot be escaped. Su Manshu was seriously ill, and was admitted to Haining Hospital for medical treatment. He had diarrhea five or six times a day, his breath was like a thread, and his condition was very critical.A few words are short, but people can't bear to read them.With evil seas and heavens, riches and honor floating in the clouds, his life seems to be like a last poem, exhausting all his passion, writing all the flavors of the world, lofty and sparse, beautiful and desolate.