When the Broken Sleeve Travels to the Country of Women

On the day Huang Guangche died, He Yan was defenseless.

Huang Guangche jumped without hesitation, and He Yan didn't even catch the hem of his clothes.

There are people downstairs, densely packed, like thousands of ants, but the red spot on the ground is particularly glaring.

A memory that did not belong to him poured into his mind, and he was only terrified and helpless.

……

Two years later

On the country road, a black off-road vehicle sped past, and the rice on both sides of the road moved slightly due to the artificial wind.

It was very hot and there was no wind, but this did not affect He Yan's interest in the slightest.

As the sun approached the western mountain, the off-road vehicle finally stopped, "Kaka...", the bloody sky was frozen in the picture.

He Yan is not in a hurry to leave, he plans to camp here, but he has not prepared any equipment.

As if compelled by something deep inside, perhaps called a whim, he must stay tonight.

The night wind blows away the sweltering heat and irritability, and here, his heart is very peaceful.

He lay on his back on the freshly cut rice stalks, smelling the smell of rice mixed with the smell of soil. It seemed that there was a face that flashed in his mind, but it was so fast that he couldn't grasp it.

But he couldn't remember it no matter what. In the end, there was only a heart-piercing pain at the tip of his heart.

He hasn't felt this way for a long time, since he lost his memory two years ago.

Two years ago, he had a car accident on a street near a shopping complex.

It was already a month later when he woke up, he received a blow to the head and lost his memory.

People say that a person committed suicide that day, which caused the congestion of the street, which led to the accident.

At that time, he didn't know why, but it was also the same feeling. Driven by some kind of power in his heart, he went to learn about the news of the stranger's suicide.

It was just a mosaic photo, and the heart-piercing pain was enough to spread throughout the body.

Fortunately, the car accident didn't kill him, and he didn't lose any arms or legs because of the disaster.

Life went on, he finished college and became a photographer.

This rice night scenery is not the best scenery he has ever seen, but it makes it difficult for him to move.

The moon is sparse, the wind is soft, and the newly harvested rice stalks are still fragrant. In the evening in the countryside, insects sing together in the dim light, but this is just an ordinary night. Tomorrow morning, he still has a new journey.

……

In Puhua Temple, Huang Fufeng was dressed in plain white clothes, no different from ordinary pilgrims.

He asked for a piece of red note paper, and it was also difficult to write, just like last time, but he was missing someone who was also difficult to write.

The piece of red paper was still not dripping with ink.

Under the huge bodhi tree, there was still a monk meditating with his eyes closed.

"There is no bodhi tree. Almighty, don't come here without any harm." Huang Fufeng didn't make a sound, and the monk opened his eyes by himself.

"I see that the benefactor is not unharmed."

Huang Fufeng lowered his head, covering up the disappointment in his eyes, "Master, I have regrets."

"The poor monk once warned the benefactor that the affairs of the world are still pending, so why not let them go. Now that the matter is a foregone conclusion, right and wrong, dust to dust, dust to dust, there will be strangers in the end. "

The monk seemed to see everything through, but in the end he could only sigh heavily, recited a mantra, and closed his eyes tightly.

On the mountain behind Puhua Temple, there was a young man who planted trees. It was rumored that he was a noble person, but few people met him. To everyone, this person was irrelevant, and not many people paid too much attention to it.

Until 30 years later, the back hill of Puhua Temple was lush and lush.

The last time Huang Fufeng saw Master Jinkong was the night before his death, Master Jinkong just looked at the bodhi tree and shook his head.

"People in the world say that they planted thousands of bodhi trees with their own hands, but if you stick to it, you can exchange one and never return to others. That's not always the case."

But Huang Fufeng didn't believe it, it didn't belong to anyone, it was worth waiting for him all his life.

In the 60th year of Jinhe, Emperor Jingkang died. It was heard that the whole country was crying for three days.

It is said in the world that on the night of the emperor's death, a melodious bell sounded in the blood-red sky.

The world only sighs, Mingjun will be ranked among the immortals.

……

In Fufeng County, inside the ancient temple, a distant bell rang.

He Yan stopped, as if infected by the bell, his heart throbbed inexplicably, but the feeling was the same as the previous few times, too fast for him to grasp.

He is soon attracted to a huge bodhi tree, under which sits a meditating monk.

The picture was frozen in the camera again, and the photo was taken professionally, but he was always dissatisfied. He always felt that something was missing. It seemed that there should be someone...

The author has something to say: I am always struggling with how to write the ending, and I have thought about two, but it is difficult to choose, so upload both, one sad and one happy.

This chapter is a tragedy, from then on, time intersects, and true love is hard to meet.

It was about to end suddenly. Although no one read it and the writing was very difficult, there was a beginning and an end.Yes, that's right, my life principle is to have a beginning and an end, and every pit must be filled!

I read it myself, and I felt like I was blinding my eyes. In fact, I didn’t think about it at the beginning and wrote it hastily. I can only say that no one saw it as expected, and someone saw it. It’s definitely a gift from an angel. Thank you for reading it. little angel.