After being confessed by the paranoid school grass

The lights in the room were dim, and the flickering cigarettes in the darkness glowed with orange-red light spots, and the little monk's eyes shone brightly in the dark night.

The little monk Singa traveled with his father to sell goods in various countries since he was a child, and learned the languages ​​of many countries from his father.When he was five years old, he was sent to the temple by his father to be a little minstrel monk.Putting on a red cassock, holding a small cymbal in his hand, he followed the elder to the deceased's home to save sentient beings.

A year ago, the little monk Singa came to Afghanistan with his father. During the day, the little monk Singa went to people's homes to give salvation to the dead, and by the way he settled for today's lunch at people's homes.Day after day, the name gradually became louder.We all know that there is a young monk in the city of Shuble, who not only recites the scriptures well, but also is cheap, and he can be invited for just one lunch.

On this day, there was a knock on the door of the little monk's house.

"Please come with us." The visitor, dressed in black, said hemato to the little monk.

"Let's go." The little monk put on his cassock and started on the road barefoot.

Passing through the streets and alleys, the visitor led the young monk into a slum, where mottled corpses were packed between the narrow corridors.

"Please save them." The visitor bowed deeply, "Let them go to a peaceful place in their next life."

The farewell ancestral hall of the mosque does not belong to them, they are just a group of lonely souls in the countryside, at the mercy of a little Burmese child.

The little monk arranged dozens of corpses one by one, crossing their hands on their chests.Facing these broken corpses, the little monk shook his hands gently in the wind, chanted the prayer of superseding the undead, lifted the book above their heads, and touched their lips.

Five hundred times for one person, by the time everyone here has finished reading it, it will be the end of the month.

The person who invited him here had long since disappeared, and the little monk was dizzy with dry mouth and hunger.There were no lights in the alley, and there was no one in the dim light.

I couldn't find my way home either.

The little monk sighed softly, walked around the corpses and leaned against the wall to do the job, and waited for the next day to dawn before trying to walk home.

The little monk closed his eyes, and there was a faint smell of tobacco coming from the side.When I opened my eyes, there was a small orange bright spot in the distance, twinkling like a breathing star.

The flame suddenly trembled and floated towards the little monk.A robust little boy came to him from the night: "I don't have any lunch for you today." The little boy shook the cigarette in his hand, "Do you smoke if you have cigarettes?"

The flickering little sparks illuminated a hand covered with scars, and the little monk nodded.

He reached out to take a cigarette, the little boy's face came closer, the two cigarette butts were close together, sparks jumped, and the little monk felt his face was hot.

The boy kept squinting his eyes, as if he had something on his mind, looking at the moonless sky.The little monk felt a sadness emanating from the boy's body, like a flood, and in his squinted eyes

Sadness flows, sadness dances in my chest, and even the cigarette I smoke smells of sadness.

"You don't know how to smoke?" the little boy asked.

The little monk had a cigarette in his mouth and didn't know how to inhale it. He just let the tobacco burn a little bit, and the ash fell on the long cassock.

"I really won't..."

"Then what do you do when you're sad? Do you chant scriptures?"

"Ah."

The little boy didn't speak. He threw the cigarette butt in his hand on the ground and crushed it twice with the sole of his shoe. He reached out and took the cigarette in the little monk's hand and put it in his mouth.

The slums in the dead of night were very quiet. The young monk was drowsy after reading Buddhist scriptures for a day, sitting with his legs bent against the wall, his head swaying left and right.The little boy next to him cast a glance at the little monk, and reached out to put his head on his shoulder.

The little monk slept peacefully on the little boy next to him for a whole night.

When the little monk woke up the next day, he was covered with the boy's T-shirt.The little boy felt movement on his shoulder, turned his head to look at the little monk, and threw the cigarette butt on the ground: "Let's go, I'll take you home."

The corpses already exuded a rotten smell, the little monk bowed to them with clasped hands, and followed the little boy out of the alley.

"Hey, the one in front!"

"My name is Zaha." The little boy walking in front lit another cigarette.

"I'll give you this back." The little boy returned the T-shirt to Zaha.

"My name is Zaha." The little monk said.

Singa ignored him and walked straight ahead.

"Are those dead people your relatives?" the little monk asked.

"No." Singa stopped and waited for the young monk's footsteps, "I am an orphan and grew up there since I was a child. It's okay to say that they are my brothers and sisters."

"Then what are you going to do in the future?"

"After this pack of cigarettes is finished, I will decide what to do next."

"Maybe kill the man who killed them and then kill himself, or die by their knife. Who knows." Singa sighed.

"How many cigarettes do you have left?"

"Two."

The little monk caught up, and the two of them continued to walk forward. After passing a green field, the little monk suddenly smiled.

"What's so funny?" Singa lit a cigarette and exhaled a long smoke ring.

The little monk shook his head and remained silent, reaching out to snatch the last cigarette in Xin Jia's trouser pocket.

"I'll help you avenge, how about you follow me in the future?"

"What do you know as a young monk?" Singa snorted, then turned to ask the young monk, "Can I ask you to save me after I die?"

"Then what will you pay me for?"

"The cigarettes you stole from me."

"But I don't smoke."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want you to live."

Xin Jia glanced at the little monk, took a puff of cigarette and didn't speak again, but his eyes narrowed even more.

"You don't even have a weapon, what are you going to use to kill people?" The little monk said softly.

"You come home with me and ask my dad to get a gun."

"Who is your father?"

"Businessman, who dumps weapons."

"Your house is really interesting. People killed people with your father's gun, and then please go to save the dead."

"It doesn't matter. I am not a Buddha, and I can't save sentient beings. I don't believe in Islam, but they ask me to give them salvation. People believe in me, and I will cast mantras in previous lives; That’s all. Believe it or not, it’s all up to you.”

"Some can be crossed, and some cannot be crossed."

"Like what?"

"For example, myself." The little monk pointed to himself.

His birth partner was burdened with the death of his mother, and his father regarded him as a disaster, so he sent him to the temple to wash away his evil nature.Even he himself thinks that he is a heinous person, a sinner who deserves neither life nor death, and wanders between the two sides of the strait as a ferryman.

The two walked back to the city, and the little monk took Xin Jia's father's shop and took a gun casually.

"If I live tonight, I will send the gun back. If I die, you will take the gun away." Singa took the gun and left.

The stubborn back looks a little lonely.

At night, a sky-shattering gunshot awakened the tranquility of the night.Then there was a hail of bullets, the sound of bullets exploding through something, and the muffled sound of something falling.

The little monk knelt in front of the Buddha, recited scriptures over and over again, and prayed devoutly for Zaha.

The gunfire became more and more intense, and the voice of the little monk chanting scriptures gradually increased, overshadowing the ghosts and monsters traveling at night, overshadowing the anxiety in people's hearts, and turned into a clay Buddha, suppressing the gunfire on the street.

Early the next morning, the little monk came out of the Buddhist hall and saw a small body lying in front of the door.

Zaha held a gun in his hand, his body was stained with dried blood, and fell asleep in front of the temple gate.

The little monk took off his cassock, covered Zaha, and blocked the sunlight on Zaha's face with his own shadow.

The sun shone on the young monk silently, like a shining golden Buddha statue.

Zaha then became the little monk's attendant. Every day, the little monk taught Zaha how to read, read, and recite scriptures. Zaha taught the little monk how to smoke and how to use a knife, gun and stick.

During the day, there are two little Bodhisattvas, walking the streets and alleys to save the dead; at night, there are two bloody butchers, slaughtering the thugs hiding in the dark.

During the day, it is the white lotus in the hands of the Buddha, and at night, it is the ghost crawling out of the tomb.

They lived in the city of Subble, and they each lived in the other's image.

It was another silent night, and the little monk's father was shot dead by mobs in a deserted street.

The bell of the police car whistled, Zaha and Singa hid in the dark and watched, Zaha wiped the tears from Singa's face.

"Is there any smoke?" Zaha asked.Singa brought a cigarette to Zaha's mouth, gently hugged the young monk's bare head, and lit his cigarette with the cigarette in his own mouth.

"Revenge?" Zaha asked.

Singa nodded, "Tomorrow."

"Okay." Zaha nodded.

"If you can't get through, leave it to me."

You teach me to read and write, and I will kill my enemies to repay you.

The next day, another gang of thieves was wiped out on the street. Some witnesses said that it was done by two young boys, one black and one red.

Their house was blown up by gangsters, and even the temple was burned down.

Zaha and Singa were lying side by side on the bed, and Si Lang was standing in the bathroom making overseas calls to Liu Yao.

"I've been doing well these days. Although the work is a bit tiring, I think it's very meaningful."

"Be sure to pay attention to safety." Liu Yao sat on the sofa, playing with the crystal ball in his hand.

"By the way, didn't you tell me before that you wanted to adopt a child? Have you decided?"

"Well. What do you think?"

"As long as you agree, I am willing to be a father with you. I have been looking up relevant information here, so don't worry."

"I'm not in a hurry, let's talk about it when you come back."

"really love you."

"I love you too."

Liu Yao hung up the phone and flipped through Moments.Yu Bin and Shen Jia's children are already crawling all over the ground. In the photo, Yu Bin is smiling like a silly son of a landlord.

Maybe that's the price you pay for getting uncommon love.

I got my beloved, but I couldn't have a biological child.

Si Lang came out of the bathroom and lay gently beside Cui Jiameng.Cui Jiameng turned over and muttered softly, "Xiao Zhu..."

Si Lang: "..."

Xiao Zhu is a nurse in the hospital.This guy has no idea what sweet dreams he is having here.

During the day, when Si Lang treated the wounded, the two children put up a signboard next to the hospital - "Free of charge, but meals must be provided." Si Lang lent his white coat to Zaha. through.People come to invite them to give lectures every day, and there is no need to worry about food.In the evening, the two children went back to Si Lang's room after they had eaten their fill, and went to sleep with their clothes on. Sometimes they would bring a chicken leg or an orange to Si Lang.

They are free, and souls fly above the sable.They are the flowers of the high mountains in full bloom.