Because I'm too afraid of being unlucky, I'm all lucky.

He browsed the mountains, crossed the great river, traveled from east to west, from north to south, to the imperial capital, and to the border.

Along the way, he also met many people, men and women, good and bad.

He didn't know where he was going. He was very stupid. He was taught by a master in the mountains before, and he listened to his master.

After his master died, he was arranged to be a handyman on the mountain, and his life was plain and simple.

Standing at thirty, but he didn't feel that he was "standing", he was just walking aimlessly in this world.

…………

It was another ten years, wandering outside for many years, and wrinkles had begun to appear on Henry Zhang's forehead.

When walking through the streets and alleys, he would be called uncle by playful children, and he would just respond with a simple and honest smile.

This year, Wu Kingdom launched a war against neighboring countries, and he was conscripted. In fact, he, a "loose person", can avoid joining the army by paying military service tax, but he has no money, and his business of copying books is getting worse and worse. Because a clever gentleman invented movable type printing.

He has seen it before, and he feels that people's brains are really different. He is so dull, but someone is so smart. Maybe the shocking invention can make the Wu Kingdom stronger?

He didn't know, because he had already set foot on the battlefield.

Traveling through the rain of arrows, every time he experienced this scene, he would feel a little dazed, as if he was still on the Huangting Mountain, and what he saw was the falling red maple.

But the arrow rain is not a red maple, but it can bring out the bright red, which is human blood.

Maybe he was lucky, he was hit by an arrow, but he didn't die. Many people in his contemporaries either got promotions in military exploits or died on the battlefield.

The war was over, and it ended in negotiations. The two countries did not gain or lose a city or a pool, so Zhang Xuansheng did not understand the meaning of the war.

Those young people who were a round younger than him would hold his hand before they died, begging him to take home the family letter, or let him help pass the message.

The 45-year-old Zhang Xuansheng left the battlefield and became a messenger. He traveled through the country of Wu to deliver letters to his comrades who had died.

He has seen an old man fainting from grief, a girl crying while waiting for her lover to return, and a woman and a half-grown child embracing each other sobbing.

What is the point of war?Maybe he was stupid and couldn't figure it out.

Since the higher the country is, the more smart people will be. The emperor who is high above must be the smartest person. The meaning of their war is of course not something that a stupid person like him can figure out.

Forty is not confused, but he is deeply confused about this world.

…………

The 50-year-old Zhang Xuansheng is already gray at the temples, he no longer travels around the world, and found a small town to settle down.

On weekdays, I write letters to people in the small town, and in other times, I carve and make dolls in the courtyard, and sell them to the children in the market.

But the children always said that his carving skills were too poor. The little pig was carved like an elephant, the monkey was carved like a human, and the human was carved like a monkey. Even the simplest long worm was carved completely different.

Chapter 680 Life

Whenever the children scolded him, Henry Zhang just smiled silly, he was really stupid and couldn't do anything well.

Sculpture was only a small hobby of his when he was a child, but at that time he was making small clay figurines, but now he holds a carving knife, so it is naturally more difficult.

Life was very poor, but Zhang Xuansheng never knew what suffering was, and he felt no different in the life on the mountain and down the mountain.

Just like he used to be an official disciple of Huang Tingshan, eating in that luxurious cafeteria, and squatting with others in front of the doorstep in front of the handyman's house to eat white noodles with a big bowl.

In his opinion, delicacies from mountains and seas and rice noodles with bran are no different, they are nothing more than filling his stomach.

He once said this to his brothers, but the brothers laughed at him. His dull head wanted to argue, but in the end he could only simply say "that's what I pulled out", which made the brothers who were eating look bad .

He told his master what happened during the day, but the master laughed and just patted his head without commenting.

The so-called destiny, everything is created by oneself, so one should not blame heaven or others.

He didn't know if he was qualified, but he never complained or hated others.

Fifty knows the destiny, he seems to be a little bit this time.

…………

Another ten years passed, and Zhang Xuansheng felt that he was sleeping less and less. He talked with other old people in the village and learned that when people get old, they will sleep less and less.

Now that I think about it, the master really didn't sleep very much.

His carving skills still haven't improved much. Although he feels that he has much better control over the details, the children still say that the things he carved are completely different.

The kids who used to buy their own engravings are all grown up, and the new kids are still old reviews.

After picking up a bucket of water and sitting on the steps to rest for a while, Henry Zhang realized that he was really old.

Sixty is good for ears, but he can't even tell whether his own sculptures are good or bad, so how can he distinguish right from wrong in the world?

…………

Henry Zhang is 70 years old, and he rarely goes out now. The heat of summer, the cold of winter, and the humidity of autumn all make it difficult for him to adapt.

Only when the spring is warm and the flowers bloom, he will move a chair, occasionally bask in the sun at the head of the village, and create with a small carving knife without knowing the purpose.

"Uncle Zhang, this year's harvest is good. This is my family's leftovers. Take it."

A strong and down-to-earth man came to Henry Zhang and handed him a bag of rice.

"It's a calf."

Henry Zhang raised his head, a little puzzled, "But last year, God was not very beautiful, everyone's harvest was not good, right?"

The corner of the man's mouth twitched, thinking that Uncle Zhang was still the same, so he put the bag beside the chair and said, "Anyway, that's how it is, my family can't finish it."

Then the calf turned and left.

Zhang Xuansheng looked at the bag of grain on the ground, and felt a little emotional. The children who asked for wooden dolls at his place back then have grown up, and even the children of Mavericks can go to the streets to make soy sauce.

It's just that the children don't play with sculpture anymore, and I heard that there is a new old man who can blow sugar in the town. He can blow sugar very well, and he is the new idol of the children.

Henry Zhang got up and went home with the bag of grain.

The master once said that at seventy, one should follow one's heart and do not exceed the rules.

At this age, the master is mature in all aspects of dealing with people, and basically does not make mistakes when doing things, which makes him admire him very much.

He once thought to himself, can he become like this at his age?

Now he is really seventy, but he still feels stupid, like a half-carved wood in his hands.

The kind child came to help him, but he forgot to say thank you, the harvest should really be bad, Maverick just wanted him to accept it with confidence.

It was only after he returned to the house that he realized that even a child was more mature than himself in dealing with things...

Do what you want, do not exceed the rules, master, it is really difficult.

Am I too stupid?

…………

In the past ten years, Zhang Xuansheng's teeth were almost gone, and his figure became more and more rickety. It was very difficult to walk to the village.

"Uncle Zhang, let me move the chair for you."

A villager saw Zhang Xuansheng walking towards the village step by step, and greeted him kindly.

However, Zhang Xuansheng turned around and smiled, waved his hands and said, "God boy, thank you, no need."

"Hey, Uncle Zhang, where are you going?"

Gouwa, who is nearly forty years old, was suspicious. The village that Uncle Zhang had already walked through did not stop under the old tree where he was often in a daze. Instead, he walked on the post road.

Henry Zhang paused in his footsteps, turned his head, grinned, showing his teeth that were about to fall out, and said with a silly smile: "I'm a little homesick, and I want to go back and have a look."

"Uncle Zhang, why are you suffering from hysteria? Your family is behind."

Gou Wa went up to help him, thinking that Uncle Zhang might not live for a few years, his mind was not bright at first, and now he is even more confused.

Henry Zhang looked back and said silently: "That's just my house...not my home."

Gouwa was also stunned for a while, thinking that Uncle Zhang is not confused, I heard that Uncle Zhang came from another place, but he was alone when he came, and now he is eighty years old, even if you want to go back to your hometown to visit relatives, how can you have What relative?

"Master, don't be stupid, go back with me, come to my house for dinner tonight, it's the holiday."

Gou Wa wants to take Uncle Zhang back.

"Baby, don't pull me, good boy, I know you are thinking of me, I just really want to go back and have a look."

Henry Zhang sighed.

"Uncle Zhang, are you serious? Where is your hometown? If it's not far away, I'll take you there."

Now that the season is not considered busy, Gouwa can't bear to see an [-]-year-old man returning home alone, and he might just die on the way.

"My home... is a little far away, in Liuzhou."

Henry Zhang had a look of reminiscence on his face.

"Liuzhou!"

Gou Wa was shocked, it was three thousand miles away!

The farthest he has traveled in his life is only a hundred miles away. He thought that Uncle Zhang's hometown would not be too far away, but this...

It's beyond his ability, and the wife and children at home will not agree to him going out so far.

Zhang Xuansheng saw Gouwa's entanglement, smiled and said: "Good boy, live a good life at home, this road, I can only walk by myself."

Gouwa's expression changed, and finally the strength in his hands became weaker, but he still said, "Uncle Zhang, why don't you have a meal before leaving? Won't you say goodbye to the Mavericks?"

He also figured it out. Uncle Zhang is obviously old and really homesick. At his age, death is considered to be the end of his life. He doesn't have to force him to stay, but he still wants to drag his childhood partner with Uncle Zhang again. Get together once.

However, Henry Zhang sighed and shook his head, "Don't eat it, don't eat it."

After finishing speaking, he stepped forward and stepped into the post road with no end in sight under the setting sun.

Chapter 680 Three Thousand Miles

The hunched figure of the old man was walking on the post road, and the cold wind in early spring made his body hunched even more.

Every short distance, the old man had to rest on the side of the road, during which he picked up a piece of wood to carve.

Occasionally, a carriage passed by on the post road, and some kind-hearted people would greet the old man and ask if he would like to take him for a ride, but the old man refused them all with a silly smile.

As the sun was setting, the old man settled down in a dilapidated ancient temple. The ancient temple seemed to be left over from the previous dynasty.

For a while, the old man stood in the ancient temple in a daze. Looking at this rather familiar scene, he couldn't help but think of when he was a child, he used to sit on the futon and chant Taoism scriptures with his brothers.

Time has changed, and now he is old like a candle in the wind, and those senior brothers who treated him well or laughed at him, I don't know how many of them are still alive.

He walked tremblingly to the front of the stage, wiped the high stage silently, then picked up the damp and musty futon, patted it, and sat down quietly.

He still holds the piece of wood in his hand, but only part of it has been cut off, and nothing can be seen.

He was just looking for something to do, but without the children's request, he didn't know what to engrave for a while.

He was very thirsty, but there were no streams and springs near him, and he was hungry, but he had no dry food on him.

Finally, the old man turned his head slowly, looked at the dark sky outside the ruined temple, and exhaled, "It's really cold."

He slowly closed his eyes. In this dilapidated temple, he seemed to have returned to his childhood, surrounded by the sound of his brothers chanting scriptures, and the patrolling eyes of the teachers. He seemed to be looking at them, and he opened them quickly. I closed my eyes, which means that I didn't doze off in class.

But when he opened his eyes, he saw a lonely ancient temple in the dark.

He opened his mouth to chant sutras, but he opened his mouth and made no sound. He shook his head and smiled self-deprecatingly.

He is really stupid. After so many years, he has even forgotten the Taoism scriptures.

At this moment, a little cold fell on his neck, and he turned his head in surprise. In the dim sky, white petals were flying under the moonlight.

This is a belated spring snow, so beautiful and so cold.

The old man wrapped his clothes tightly, got up and went outside, watching the snow falling all over the sky.

Suffering from hunger and cold, he knew he wouldn't be able to survive the night, so the idea of ​​going home to have a look, was it wishful thinking after all?

Back in the ruined temple, he found some dry firewood, but he didn't have the energy to chop it. He tried to start a fire with the flint that had been placed in the temple before.

The old man leaned against the wall and looked at the small fire. There was not much dry firewood, and it would burn out in an hour. He could only fall asleep while it was still warm, otherwise he would not be able to fall asleep in a while.

The cold wind passed through the crack of the door, swept across the fire, and fell on the old man. The sleeping old man couldn't help curling up a little more.

I don't know what it was dreamed of, but the old man started talking in his sleep and murmured softly.

"In front of Emperor Zixiaxu in the Shangqing Dynasty, Yuchen Jun is the Supreme Daoist. He lives in Ruizhu and writes seven words, scattered and transformed into five shapes and ten thousand gods"

He may or may not have forgotten it, but only in his dream did he finally return to the palace of his childhood.