Secret scripture prose

Master opened the scripture, and I wrapped strips of cloth around the wooden fish to prevent others from hearing the crisp sound of the wooden fish. Taking this opportunity, I asked Master: Does Buddha know what happened to us?

Of course, Buddha knows everything.

Then why didn't he stop it? Isn’t he boundless in power?

Buddha has his own arrangements, so you don’t have to worry about them. You just have to do your own thing well.

Master is always so confident. When we first came down the mountain, I was worried that we would be overwhelmed by the people at the foot of the mountain, and the Buddha would never see us again. Master said, I have a way. We can write letters to the Buddha regularly. Even if our thoughts are obscured by the messy things at the foot of the mountain, the letter written in black and white will always be seen by the Buddha. That night, Master locked herself in her room and took the lead in writing a letter to Buddha. She wouldn't let me read what she wrote. She said she wouldn't read what I wrote because our karma is different, so the letters we write will be different. . I don't know what she wrote, I just saw her wiping tears while writing. Two days later, before dawn, Master shook me out of my sleep and told me that Buddha had received her letter and that Buddha had given instructions for her letter. I have never seen her so happy. Her eyes were bright and her voice was exaggerated. She, who was always calm and steady, even jumped a little when she turned around and walked out.

I don’t know when I fell asleep. Maybe I fell down while chanting scriptures. When I woke up the next day, I found that I was not in bed, but in the Buddhist hall. Master was sitting aside and looking at me intently.

Huide, do you know what my biggest regret is? The master looked like he hadn't slept all night.

I shook my head.

I have not braided your hair, not once. I should have grown your hair at least once before you shaved your head.'

I don’t know why she suddenly thought of this. I have never thought about it myself. I have never longed for long hair, just like I have never thought about when I will go to the moon.

Soon, there was a noise outside, and the people who demolished the nunnery had already come up the mountain.

They didn’t even need to say hello to us, they just barged in. Some people climbed on the roof to lift the tiles, some were tearing long hanging prayer flags, collecting stoves for burning incense, and some were picking at the Bodhisattva. They suspected that the gold mud on his body was really made of gold.

We took out the bundled quilt rolls and some daily necessities, and stood watching from a distance. I was close to Master, and her eyelids were hanging indifferently, but her body was shaking slightly, and her lips were trembling slightly. I knew what she was doing, and I even knew which sutra she was reciting.

Some people urged us to go down the mountain quickly. There is no need to stand here and watch the demolition of houses. This is a kind-hearted person. No matter what the situation is, he always feels uncomfortable watching others tear down his house. The master sighed and said: Let's go, it's time to go.

On the way, Master sat down. I thought she sprained her foot, so I hurriedly knelt down to take a look. She pushed me away impatiently. Only then did I realize that her face had turned pale gray, as if there was a layer of stove dust smeared on it.

They are driving us to the eighteenth level of hell. For the first time, I heard the smoke-like resentment in Master's voice.

Some people are already repairing the old mill. I told Master that without Guangzhong, we wouldn’t even be able to live in the old mill.

Master closed his eyes and clasped his palms: Thank you to the Bodhisattva who saved the suffering, don’t you know? That's not Guangzhong helping us, it's Bodhisattva helping us. Bodhisattva instructs Guangzhong to do this.

I also clasped my hands together, yes, otherwise, why would Guangzhong always pay attention to clarifying his relationship with us in the crowd, but this time he was so bold and stood up to speak for us at the meeting? Woolen cloth?

We are not qualified to work in such a glorious position in front of the furnace. Our job is to wash the sand in the river.

I was afraid that Master couldn’t stand the humidity and wanted to ask the red-faced captain for mercy and change his job, but Master refused: I don’t want to beg them! Let them see if we are parasites after all. From the day the meeting was held to announce our return to secular life, people kept saying that we were parasites. The Master got annoyed and retorted: We also plant in spring and harvest in autumn, and we have always supported ourselves.

People immediately said: Then tell us where the money in the merit box went? The master did not show any weakness: You can take as much of my herbal ointment as you want. Who has paid half a penny? People said: What's more, those who took your medicine later relapsed. The master sneered: People will still be hungry after eating. I have never heard that one meal can last a lifetime.

The master soon became ill after soaking in the river. I went to ask for leave, and the red-faced captain laughed dryly: She has both Bodhisattva and medicine, so why is she still sick? I said: Master is old after all. The captain snorted: There are many people older than her here, and they are all working. I had nothing to say, so I knelt down to him suddenly. When he stepped back, he got angry and said, "You can kneel if you like. You come to ask for leave today, and he will ask for leave tomorrow. Does anyone else need to do the production?" She was already kneeling anyway, so I didn’t mind chasing after her with my knees: she was really sick and her body was burning hot. If she died in the river, I’m afraid no one would dare to go into the river in the future. The captain's face turned even redder, and he angrily threw out two words: Okay. I know, this is the meaning of leave.

Master has been in bed for seven or eight days. His body is getting softer day by day and feels like tofu skin. His face has also turned the color of papyrus. His eyebrows that used to be flat now droop to the sides and his eye sockets are sunken. , when he was not sleeping, his two round black eyes struggled through the wrinkled eyelids, staring at a certain place, as if he was reasoning with someone. Only the forehead remained unchanged, still square and long-lasting. Near the eyebrows, there was a light brown mark like a knife cut, which was caused by wearing a hat all year round.

Do you know what it means to be in Cao’s camp but in Han’s heart? Master asked me, looking at the roof of the mill.

Without waiting for my answer, he added: People can return to the secular world, but their hearts should not return to the secular world. Otherwise, you will be the one who suffers.

So what should I do?

Once upon a time, there was a monk who was killed by gangsters on his travels. His tongue was cut out and he was sold to others to do hard labor. At this point, he still wanted to chant sutras and recite Buddha's name, but he couldn't make any sound. Why? What to do? He thought of a good idea and dipped his hand in water to write out the sutra he wanted to recite on the ground. Writing it once is equivalent to saying it ten times. After writing it for several years, his tongue grew back.

The master fell asleep again while talking.

In the middle of the night that day, I woke up for no reason. I saw Master sitting peacefully with a calm look on his face, so I asked: Master, are you okay? Master said: It was Buddha who made me recover. Buddha wiped away all my illnesses.

I'll get you a glass of water. I struggled to get up, but Master said: I'm not thirsty, I just want to sit for a while. I haven't sat down for several days. You can go to sleep, young man, you are very sleepy.

These words seemed to be hypnotic. Before I could finish listening, I fell to the ground and fell asleep.

The next day, I was awakened by the sound of military bugles at the construction site. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Master was still meditating. This is what I admire most about Master. As long as Master wants to sit, he can definitely do it. He sat like a stone statue.

I hurriedly wiped my face and ran out to the construction site. The captain said that since your master has asked for leave, you have to complete her work. In other words, I have to do the work of two people.

When I passed three steel-making furnaces, my body suddenly felt hot. The temperature was so high that even the air was about to be ignited. Then I looked at the tired and excited night furnace worker, with swollen hair and eyebrows. They were covered with thick ashes and their eyes were red from the heat, but they refused to go home and rest, allowing the day shift workers to go to work. It is an extremely glorious thing to be able to see the molten steel slowly flowing out through one's own labor. No one wants to miss this honor, so more and more furnace burners stand in dense circles, turning the furnace like a fireball. surrounded by steel-making furnaces.

I didn’t go far when I met the captain. The captain blushed and raised his voice: Why doesn’t she go to work? So unconscious! Go, call her out, and get her down to the river immediately.

I think so. Master can meditate now, so she should be able to go out for a walk. She doesn’t need to go into the river. She only goes to do a lot of work, and I will do the work for her.

I opened the door and saw that Master was still sitting. Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly felt that something was wrong with Master's posture. His back was too straight and his head was a little tilted. He touched Master's back lightly. He fell down with a plop, still in a meditating posture, with his crossed legs raised high, his stiff neck leading his head to poke diagonally towards the ground, and his whole body was as cold as iron.

I know what happened. The master left, and she used this most advanced ritual to send herself to the land of bliss.

…

The moon was particularly big that night, and the stars were clearly nailed on the night sky like buttons. I stared at them one by one, maybe they were The one that flashed so fast was Master. She just stepped up and was still unsteady. Don't fall down, Master!

On nights like this, without Master’s urging, I also wanted to write a letter to Buddha. I wanted him to know what I was thinking. That is an idea that cannot be known to others.

A slogan on the roadside made me stop. At the end of the slogan, there was a large blank. When no one was paying attention, I quietly tore off the blank piece of paper. Unfortunately, it was red, and few people use red. Paper to write a letter.

There is no way, I have no money to buy paper, the only pen and half an inkstone are leftover from when the master wrote the prescription.

In the second half of the night, the construction site gradually became quiet, and white mist floated on the fields. I always felt that this was not a human moment, it should belong to God.

Writing the first letter to Buddha in a mill shrouded in white mist.

Supreme Buddha:

We encountered some changes. We were driven from the nunnery to the foot of the mountain. My master has been trampled to pieces by those people... I know this is a test. , they want to use the violence against Master to scare me and surrender to them, but that is impossible. First of all, I believe that Master is not in pain. Master’s soul has long gone to your side, Buddha... Secondly , I have seen through them. Many of them have taken medicine from Master, have been grateful and virtuous, kowtowed at your feet, offered incense and made wishes, but now they have overturned everything. I I know that I cannot be angry, resentful, or bear grudges. I want to understand them and forgive them, but I do... Amitabha, I only have one thought now: Even if I am already a member, I must be your most devout believer. , devote yourself to worshiping Buddha.

Although Master has warned you, firstly, you cannot write lies, and secondly, you cannot make wishes casually. You must write about what you have done, or what you will definitely do. Violating any of them is a sin. But I still made a wish easily. If I can't even do this, then I might as well follow the master and leave, although that is also a sin.

As soon as the letter is finished, take it and burn it. The small pile of ashes first shivered and shrank, and then, with a gentle breeze, the black ashes floated up, as if a hand from the sky suddenly reached out and picked up the words in it.