Chapter 31 Epilogue: A Lonely Goose in the Red Dust

When I woke up in the middle of the night, it was raining outside the window, a winter rain, although it was cold, there was a long-lost familiarity.The incessant rain disturbed my damp memory, and I, who couldn't sleep peacefully, wanted to write a postscript for Su Manshu.After finishing the manuscript and putting it down, a voice in my heart kept shouting, and finally wrote him to death.What a cruel and desolate thought, I couldn't wait so much, but I didn't feel relieved, instead, I felt a kind of loneliness and desolation that couldn't be filled. Burning incense to listen to the rain, making a pot of clear tea is not to pretend to be elegant, but just to imbue a little Zen.I thought of Lin Daiyu who was sleeping all night with the rain bamboo in Xiaoxiang, Li Qingzhao who listened to the rain behind the curtain and drank alone with a bottle, and Li Shangyin who cut the candles in the west window and talked about the night rain in Bashan.Rain is the complex in the poet's heart, and it is also the agreement of all living beings in previous lives. It is warm and misty, poetic and melancholy.And Su Manshu, a lone goose who has been wandering in the world of mortals and wind and rain all his life, has also been wet by the rain and nourished his feelings.

I have always been a person who starts and ends.Either you don't want to start, if you have a start, you will definitely come to the end.If you ask why, I believe in cause and effect, and I believe in the cycle of cause and effect in this world.When flowers bloom, they will fall; if there is a relationship, there will be a relationship; if there is separation, there will be reunion;Although everything rises and falls, we still don't know what to use to resist the vagaries of life. I am not willing to go back to the past of a person's past, I even think that such an approach is a little rude and a little sad.A person, no matter his life is honorable or humble, after death, only a handful of loess and a few plants and trees are left.All honors, disgraces, sorrows and joys, successes and failures, gains and losses, all disappeared silently and meaninglessly the moment he left the world.But why do we reopen their closed books of life, spread them out in the sun to dry, and never ask them whether they are really willing to let the world read like this.I thought we should keep our mouths shut, and let all the past be buried under the dust and mud, and exist forever in darkness.I think we should ignore it, no matter whether it is right or wrong, as the dead are like this, they are destined to have nothing to do with this world.

I was wrong, even though we are just a grain of sand in the vast ocean, life and death, prosperity and decline are instantly forgotten.But no one can let himself live without a trace, and can't hide himself in a corner that no one knows.Even after death, the soul will stay in a certain sad season and accept the reincarnation of three lives and three lives.We always say that life is like a play, but it is yourself who paints and paints in front of the mirror every day. Although no one is willing to make wedding dresses for others, they cannot escape the game set by fate. From the day I started writing Su Manshu, I felt an unspeakable feeling in my heart.Because he is not an ordinary person, a legendary figure is destined not to live a stable and peaceful life.Living in troubled times, coupled with his unrivaled talent and extraordinary encounters, Su Manshu's life is like a cloud, lonely like a wild goose.As a half-monk and half-secular person, he traveled between temples and the world of mortals, and traveled back and forth between Japan and China.If you talk about loneliness, Su Manshu has never been short of people, there are confidants who can talk about life freely, and there are unforgettable beauty.In terms of happiness, Su Manshu has been wandering around since he was a child, and he has never had a home that belongs to him. Until his death, he was so lonely and helpless.

This man, known by the world as a love monk, a poet monk, a painting monk, and a revolutionary monk, bears a sad legend. He walks in the floating world, seemingly free and easy, but in fact he is walking on thin ice.He lived for thirty-five years, thirty-five, for a white-haired old man, how short it was, like an episode in a period of youth, fleeting.But for a baby who has just come to the world, it is so long. He should experience the wind and dust, and see thousands of miles of flying sand.People are really different. Some people can create permanent legends in one day, and some people can't leave a little miracle in a lifetime.

Perhaps Su Manshu never thought that one day he would become an indispensable subject in the works of literati, and his stories would infect the hearts of thousands of people in the world.In fact, he just wants to be a simple person, who can freely go out of the world, eat and play without any scruples, and have fun with stunning beauties.Everything he does is not to be remembered by others. If possible, perhaps he would rather exist in obscurity, even though he has a depth in his heart that ordinary people cannot reach.Some people said that he was ruthless and had failed too many confidante Xiangxue in his life.Some people say that he is affectionate, and the reason why he chooses to escape every time he loves is because he is afraid of betraying the Tathagata and Qing.

Everyone is a contradictory body, strong and soft, optimistic and tragic, kind and evil.Even if Su Manshu is a mustard seed in front of the Buddha, he can't be as clean as he is.His heart has been infected by the sandalwood from the monastery, and has also been soaked in the dyeing vat of the world of mortals. In the fate that he cannot escape, he is helpless.Life is like a chess game, the seemingly simple arrangement is actually intricate and confusing.Anyone who inadvertently will let himself sink in the mud, and it is too late to go back to the beginning.Su Manshu hoped to be on the other side of the lotus flower leisurely, but after all, he fell into the dust net for decades, and the river of forgetfulness could not flow through the years.

A lone wild goose in the world of mortals thinks that the sky is long and the earth is wide enough to be free and easy, but it just goes back and forth between the waters and shores of the world, living a life of porridge and food, enjoying the scenery of every plant and tree.A mage once gave him an order, saying that he made many mistakes in his life, and that's why he had so many unavoidable dooms.I often say a word, to live is to eliminate evil.Erase your past life's evil debts, and live cleanly and concisely from now on.In fact, I was still wrong, the karmic debt cannot be repaid, you have settled the previous life, and the present life.Life is a tireless reincarnation. We have already tasted the boring life, but we still have to live every day in a law-abiding manner.

I always feel that Su Manshu's life is really too tiring, just in troubled times, ups and downs are fine, and it's not his fault that he can't help himself, but he has to suffer so many sudden disasters.A short life has been tortuous and long, but the time of death is so hasty.Regarding Su Manshu's life, there seem to be too many entanglements and too many unsatisfactory things, so I don't want to mention it again.But the arrangement after his death is so intriguing. Su Manshu, like Su Xiaoxiao, a famous Jiangnan prostitute, was buried in Xiling, a place of piano, chess, calligraphy and painting.Some people say that they are destined for a few lives, and some say it is just a coincidence. In any case, they have such a profound fate, and they must have practiced for hundreds of years.Su Manshu regarded kabuki as confidantes during his lifetime, and shared landscapes with kabuki after his death. Isn't this the cause and effect mentioned by Buddhism?

It is a kind of happiness for a prodigal son to live a short life without landing in this way, and to settle down in the poetic and picturesque West Lake after his death.The so-called destination is nothing more than this. From the moment you stop breathing, it means that all wandering in the world is over.From the beginning to the end of a person's life, whether it ends in a comedy or a tragedy, it is considered complete.In fact, everyone's life is an understatement, and those intricate stories are all unintentional.Just like the pen and ink at your fingertips, without any constraints, you can freely sway the ocean on the paper of the years.The artistic conception created by contrast is the misty waves for ten miles, the drunken night in the frosty forest, the green clouds and dawn mist, and the green hills on the banks of willows.

Reading Su Manshu's poems, you will suddenly think of those sentimental pasts and old times.I will think of a love monk named Tsangyang Gyatso who once wrote the same sincere and thought-provoking poems in remote Tibet, a land full of magic and fantasy.It's just that their life seems too short. Maybe they are not mortals, so they can't accept the birth, old age, sickness and death of mortals.They are all lotuses in front of the Buddha, and they will die in the most decisive way when they bloom to the most brilliant.I don't know who said that most affectionate people play the role of tragedy in their lives.It wasn't that they absconded deliberately, but that they had fulfilled their mission in life ahead of schedule, so they left in such a hurry.

All sentient beings have nothing to worry about.These are the eight words left by Su Manshu when he left the world. It seems to be calm and breezy, but it reveals his infinite nostalgia for the world.Even if you are reluctant to give up, you have to leave. In the face of death, anyone seems so insignificant.Instead of crying bitterly and kneeling down to beg for mercy, Mo Ruo walked away freely and freely.In a life of ups and downs, look back after you have gone through, everything is already normal.That long and arduous process was only replaced by a few pages of thin paper in the end.The dominance of many emperors and generals has become nothing more than the drunken chat of fishermen and woodcutters.Looking back on the past, many people can't help but ask themselves, what are they fighting for?What do you want?What are you reluctant to part with? No one can give you a definite answer. Time is like a clear dream. We don’t need to be too realistic when we perform it. Sometimes, specious expressions add hazy beauty.This play on the stage of life is never static, it has a flowing charm, and in the interlaced light and shadow of the play, we will feel unprecedented satisfaction.When everything has left the scene, you and I who have been busy all our lives are looking for a peaceful and comfortable place to go.I really don’t have to keep thinking about the people and things I missed. If there is a destiny, I will meet again at the ferry in the next life.At that time, I will finish the unfinished things in this life, and I will completely finish the things that have no ending. It is said to be an epilogue, but I do not know what to express intermittently, like the rain on the eaves, quietly telling a cold story in winter.However, when the book was closed, snowflakes floated outside the window. This was the first snow in the south of the Yangtze River this year, with some indescribable complex.Without talking to anyone, he just came to the world like this, and his white and light demeanor brought endless joy to the world.We are always moved by a snowflake, and for that spirit and clarity, we are willing to let go of all entanglements and melt with it.I thought of Su Manshu, who had seen the spring snow in the south of the Yangtze River, and watched a bright cherry blossom at the head of a dreamy bridge. The beginning is random, so there is no need for a deep ending.Although Su Manshu has become attached to the Buddha in this life, he still travels in the world, has tasted all kinds of life, and knows well the world's conditions.When the snow falls, I seem to see the first plum blossom, but I don’t know whose love this faint fragrance promises. I think our world should be quiet and silent from now on.Just let me write a poem with a pen with a thin spine, for this lone goose, and you and me who are equally lonely.In fact, we are not alone, because we have had a beautiful Zen experience in this life.It is Zen, which gives all living beings the simple tranquility and the happiness of blooming flowers.