Chang'an India

After a cold spring, the world has completely changed into the color of spring.

There is a restaurant in a town in the suburbs of Beijing called Xinyi Pavilion. Two purple magnolias are planted in front of the restaurant, and the trees are full of bowl-sized flowers blooming brightly.

It's a good time for outing, and there are endless streams of horses and horses in the town, until the end of the year, the sound of people gradually subsides.A spring mist came quietly, quietly entering the twilight, Bian Chonglan's hearing was superb, and from the sparse voices and laughter, he could distinguish the soft sound of bamboo sticks hitting stone slabs.

On the moist stone road, a monk came slowly. He was wearing a simple gray monk's robe, but it seemed to separate him from the world of mortals.

The monk has a tall and straight figure, walks calmly, holds a green bamboo staff in his hand, and lights the stone-paved street one after another.

A gray cloth belt was tied on his face, his palm was wide enough to cover his eyebrows and eyes, making him look like a blind monk.Holding a rein in his hand without a bamboo stick, he looked behind him and saw that he was leading a light brown donkey with some dark brown spots mixed in its fur. He held the donkey's head high without looking sideways, and walked in small steps, stepping out of the air of a tall horse.

Bian Yonglan was sitting in the private room facing the street on the second floor, leaning his elbows on the open window lattice, resting his head in one hand, holding his wine glass in the other, looking downstairs.

When the monk walked to the front of the building, Xu Shi could smell the smell of fireworks in the world, and his footsteps stopped slightly.Xiaoer, who was leading the guests at the door, greeted at the opportunity: "Master, do you want to have a fast meal?" The monk didn't answer, obviously unable to see things, but seemed to feel something, raised his head slightly, and looked upstairs.

There is no wind on a foggy night.

There is no wind, but the flowers move.

Bian Yonglan put down his wine glass, and gently stroked the saber on the table with his fingers.The fingertips are slightly elastic, and the blade is half an inch out of the sheath. A wisp of the blade is like a spring breeze wrinkling the lake water, rushing into the night, and disturbing a magnolia tree.

Magnolia petals, plump as purple jade, fluttered down. The monk stood by the tree, before the petals touched his body, he turned his head slightly, and was looking at the place where the sword intent came from.

There is a row of lanterns in front of the building, shining brightly on the trees and flowers.The shadow of the flower fell on the blind monk's face, making his complexion white and warmed by the candlelight, finally gaining some popularity.

Bian Yonglan didn't say a word or smile, and looked at him quietly, seeing that the monk just looked at him indifferently, and then led the donkey away, with a dignified and solemn back, cutting out the outline of an ancient well without waves from the night.

Marquis Wan Jiang never used a pseudonym when he went out, anyway, no one who saw his face once would forget it.He doesn't like the art of disguise, which is to cover his head and hide his appearance, so it's useless to use an alias.But in the end this time I went out of Beijing alone, no one was secretly accompanying me, so I was a little more careful in my behavior, and kept a little mind in my sleep.

In the middle of the night, people and animals fell into samadhi, but Bian Yonglan woke up suddenly. He heard the door door knocking lightly, someone knocked once, and after a while, it knocked again.

He put on his clothes and got out of bed, and walked to the door, without asking who it was, he held the knife in front of him with one hand, and opened the door with the other.

There is no one outside the door, the inn is pitch black, only a gleam of light at the end of the corridor, coming out from the last guest room, the door is ajar, clearly inviting you to enter the urn.

Marquis Wan Jiang looked coldly at the ray of darkness, walked over without hesitation, halfway there, suddenly raised his eyebrows.

People who practice martial arts know the distance best. This corridor is longer than what he visually estimated, and it looks a little strange.

He clenched the knife tightly, feeling the chill soaking through the skirt of his clothes. The spring night can't be called warm, but it shouldn't be so cold either.

But with a knife in his hand, Marquis Wan Jiang didn't know how to write fear words, so he jumped up a few times, gracefully, and landed silently in front of the light-transmitting door.

Looking through the half-closed door, it is just an ordinary guest room with a bed, a table, and candles on the table. There is a person sitting by the table, with his back slightly turned to the door. He is dressed as a scholar, holding a A volume of books, reading at night by the lamplight, muttering in my mouth, listen carefully to what I am saying is not about what you want, but "why you don't hit it".

Bian Yonglan was a little surprised, the year of the big competition had passed long ago, even if the scholar who failed the exam was unwilling, there was no reason for him to linger in an inn in the suburbs of Beijing for so long.

"Why didn't you hit it? Why didn't you hit it?" The person at the table seemed to be really sad, but also seemed to know that someone had finally heard his sadness, and turned his head sadly——the head turned back, but the body didn't move. , her neck was twisted all over, probably because she was so sad that she cried two lines of bright red tears of blood.

"..." Wan Jianghou knew that he was not dreaming now, and it was because he clearly knew that he was not dreaming that he was a little at a loss, but his face was still calm, he took a step back, and pulled out the knife with a "dang" sound... …didn’t pull/out/come out.

A hand stretched out from behind him, and held down his hand that drew the knife—it was indeed a human hand, with human warmth, long and slender fingers, and I didn't know how to apply force, just pressing and pushing , and pushed the unsheathed weapon back into the sheath.

Bian Yonglan glanced at the hand that was holding him, and saw that it was wearing a string of plain Buddhist beads. He settled down for a while, but he didn't turn around. He only took another step back, and felt another warm hand on his back. The human body smelled a looming fragrance of Buddha at the end of the nose.

"...I greeted the master earlier, but the master ignored me."

Regardless of whether the thing in the house is a person or a ghost—probably it cannot be a person—but at least there is another person in the bizarre scene, and he is a monk. Put down the tone of voice, there is still room to gossip.

"The name of the poor monk is Tanshan."

The monk declared his Dharma name, and responded politely to the phrase "you ignore me", then lowered his head slightly, and looked at the person in front of him who was almost stuck in his arms—his face was still covered with the gray strip. The cloth belt should not be able to see anything, but it seems to be aware of the situation in front of it, and said softly: "Don't be afraid, it can't get out of this door."

Bian Chonglan was about to reply, but he felt that the eminent monk behind him raised his other hand, pressed his shoulder, and pushed hard—with his martial arts practice, his lower body was extremely stable, even if he was not guarded against the monk behind him right now. Sudden attack, without being pushed and staggered into the room, is really a ghost.

The ghost is very happy, it can't get out, and it's good if someone is willing to come in, and it can't wait to walk upside down to meet it—body backward, face forward, pounced on it whimperingly, its three-foot-long tongue drooped down, and in its mouth Still muttering "why didn't it hit", the long tongue didn't prevent it from being able to speak clearly.

The Marquis of Wanjiang finally drew his saber out of its sheath, dodged to avoid the thing that was rushing towards him, and said something anxious and angry: "Did you feed the dog your rule of 'If I don't go to hell, who will go to hell'?" He dodged quickly , Swearing is also quick, the knife and the quarrel are done in one go, and neither is delayed, "What about you? Do you just push people to hell?"

Tan Shan stepped into the room with a calm face, and the answer in his mouth was as flat as his face: "There is no such rule."

"My god you... eh?" Wan Jianghou said "My god your ancestor" and was about to swear, but he saw the thing in front of him suddenly shrink back and collapsed as if unable to stand, his bloody and tearful face finally twisted. He went back and lay face down on the ground with only a long tongue sticking out, and the crying sound was a bit quieter.

"The benefactor is careful."

The monk still had that lukewarm tone, but Wan Jianghou could hear his implication, "If you don't care about your mouth, I'll leave you here alone."He thought it was something supernatural and inhuman because he was afraid of the monk standing at the door, so he could only hold back his temper and endured it.

"You are blessed with good luck and fortune, and you have a royal aura on your body, so it is willing to get close to you like this," Tan Shan single-handedly held on to the Buddhist ceremony, but the words in his mouth were very irritating, "It longed for a fame and fame when it was alive, and it couldn't get it. He hanged himself here to die, but Yin Hun never harmed anyone, but his obsession was too deep, seeing you now, he is very envious, you don't have to embarrass it."

"..." The situation was stronger than others, and the Marquis of Wanjiang didn't dare to scold the monk, so he turned his head to scold the ghost, "Why did I make things difficult for you? Is my life to blame?"

"Your knife is not ordinary." The monk is not very kind to people, but considerate to ghosts, and explained for it from the side, "The weapon is too fierce, it is a little scared."

... Who do you say is afraid?

Marquis Wan Jiang was so angry that he had a headache, he moved the tip of the knife forward again, but when he heard the ghost cry again, he didn't know whether it was because of fear or grievance, and his tongue was tied up because it was so rare.

"You take it, or I chop it up, it's up to you."

The Marquis of Wanjiang was confident, and when he gained confidence, he lost his voice again, and he was a little curious. He didn't know how this monk catches ghosts. He only felt that he had lived for 26 years, and he watched all the unheard of things tonight. .

Tan Shan didn't engage in any verbal lawsuits with him anymore, he went straight to stand beside the ghost, held the Buddhist ritual in one hand, and turned it over to form a Dharma seal with the other. A hand brushed away casually from this world like dust, leaving no trace left behind.

Bian Yonglan suddenly felt a tinge of desolation, which was unreasonable, why did he sympathize with a ghost?But he asked like a ghost, "Is it reincarnated?"

Tan Shan didn't answer, but shook his head slightly, there was no compassion or pity on his face, his expression was indifferent.

In an instant, things changed and the scene changed, and the guest room was still the same room, but the lamps and candles on the table were extinguished.With the moonlight shining in from the window, I saw a thick layer of dust on the candlesticks, no bedding on the bed, covered with a layer of cloth sheets, and a few broken chairs piled up in the corner of the room, presumably the innkeeper was kind in his business , I felt that the room where someone hanged itself was not good for re-occupancy, so I abandoned it and only kept some sundries.

In the darkness of the room, Bian Yonglan heard Tan Shan say indifferently: "The obsession is too deep, and those who cannot cross by themselves, no gods and Buddhas can cross. The best end is already the best end."

The author has something to say: Lanlan: I'm afraid.

Master: (Pushing) You can be more afraid.