The sound came from a place more than a hundred kilometers away.
The wind is rising and howling, the snow is falling, and the world is misty. Both vision and hearing are shrouded in a gloomy vicissitudes.
But this is for the average person.
Xu Guangling is not an ordinary person, and it is impossible for ordinary people to appear in such a place at this moment.
More than a hundred kilometers away, the soft and almost inaudible chanting was received by him so clearly, seemingly without any hindrance or obstruction, and caused ripples in the calm lake of his heart.
Xu Guangling walked towards the direction from which the sound came.
His steps were neither urgent nor slow, and his figure was like clouds and water. Against the background of twilight and heavy snow, he looked like a mountain god from a distance.
About half an hour later, Xu Guangling arrived at a small town at the foot of the mountain.
It was a very simple town with only about twenty households. Xu Guangling had not even seen the most basic standard facilities such as restaurants, hotels, pharmacies, etc.
The sound came from a house, almost unchanged from half an hour ago.
Xu Guangling did not approach, but stopped outside the town, blending into the night.
With the help of the sky mirror, he saw what he wanted to see.
An old man was lying quietly or peacefully on the bed, his breathing had stopped long ago.
His wife, a couple who must be his daughter-in-law, and a few people who seemed to be close to each other around the town were sitting in this small room on the bed around the table and on the floor, which was covered with blankets.
In addition to the bed, there is also a table in the middle of the small room. On the table, there is a pile of small stones neatly stacked.
Mani pile!
It's the same Mani Dui as the one Xu Guangling saw in the wild just now, but the current one is much smaller, so small that its base is not even as big as a washbasin.
But size shouldn't matter.
If there is a God, what should people demand from God?
In fact, it is very simple to say, there are just two, one to eliminate disasters and the other to bring blessings. Manidui serves as such a medium.
The wife of the deceased recited Tibetan scriptures, occasionally mixed with her own murmurs. Regardless of whether it was scriptures or murmurs, the meaning was probably very simple, expressing the condolences and blessings of the living to the deceased.
Others sitting around the table were also chanting softly, but what they chanted was very simple, with monotonous sounds like "oh" and "um" acting as background.
Xu Guangling did feel this background.
A kind of sadness, a kind of tranquility.
Before that, he had listened to a lot of music, a lot of sounds, some man-made, some natural, some ordinary music, some religious music, many of which are worth mentioning.
But at this moment, in front of such a rough and rough scene, Xu Guangling listened quietly and lowered his ears.
The simplest recitation, and it was probably recited by an ordinary illiterate old woman from the countryside, but in an incredible way, it reached the bottom of his heart.
Then he dragged his thoughts into thoughts about life and death.
Or, instead of thinking, just focus.
This made Xu Guangling's mind uncontrollably trance-like for a moment.
And in a trance, the next moment, Xu Guangling's own vision passed through the night, through the heavy snow, trees and houses, and directly saw the scene in the room.
The same bed, the same table, the same small pile of rocks.
And the dead in the bed and the living under the bed.
But in addition, Xu Guangling also saw wisps of light mist in this small room, like burning incense.
But there was clearly no incense burning in the room.
Not now, not before.
"Xiaotian, what is this?" Xu Guangling asked about the sky mirror.
"A fragment of consciousness, in ancient terms, some of you also call it a soul."
Jian Tianjing's answers are rare and long. Under normal circumstances, its answers to Xu Guangling's questions are very brief. If they can use one word, they will never use two.
But Xu Guangling was shocked by its answer this time.
It was also a rare shock for a great master, "Soul?"
The Tianjing Mirror did not answer, but I don't know what it did. The next moment, the wisps of mist in the small room appeared in Xu Guangling's field of consciousness in the form of an image, and then made him look at himself.
The content of consciousness is generally read.
A sequence of scenes.
Either blurry or clear.
Either complete or incomplete.
After a while, Xu Guangling understood a lot of things.
About the deceased person during his lifetime.
Probably the most complete and clearest passage is that shortly after the deceased and the old woman under the bed got married, he learned a poem, a short love poem, from the master in the temple, and then read it to the old woman when he went home.
listen.
The old woman at that time was not an old woman yet.
The dead at that time were not the dead who were aging and dying.
They are all young.
The image of a pair of young people that Xu Guangling saw was relatively blurry, but what was not blurry was the feeling of happiness.
The happiness of that year continues to this day.
It stretches beyond life and death.
Perhaps, it's not about duration, but when a person dies, those fragments of his consciousness that are most intense during his lifetime are like wine that has been sealed for decades and then finally opened.
All frivolity and triviality are gone.
The unique mellowness emanates from it.
Xu Guangling read and felt such a special memory.
In fact, the life of the deceased was very simple. He was an ordinary villager, and he lived in such a remote and remote place. He never went out to travel in his life. The most basic place for activities in his life was this small town, and
There is a larger town dozens of miles away, and there is a temple there.
And, herding sheep.
Young people, middle-aged people, and old people all come here like this.
There is no vastness, no breadth, no intensity, and no mystery. Everything is so plain and simple.
But in front of this plainness and simplicity, Xu Guangling was rarely calm.
Perhaps what made him condense was not the plainness and simplicity itself, but the boundary between life and death?
This is actually not quite right.
For a moment, there were no words to express.
"How will this fragment of consciousness change in the future?" Xu Guangling asked after standing quietly for a long time.
"Escape".
Jian Tianjing's answer was not beyond Xu Guangling's expectation or judgment, but then, Jian Tianjing added, "If there are newborns nearby, there is a certain probability that some of these fragments,
will be absorbed by the newborn."
Xu Guangling was shocked again.
"this……"
He even hesitated for a while before saying: "What if the fragments of consciousness of a great scholar were absorbed by a newborn?"
When asking this question, what appeared in Xu Guangling's mind at this moment was a sentence from Yuan Mei's "Suiyuan Shihua" of the Qing Dynasty.
"It's too late to read the book in this life."
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Thanks to "Huayun Dreamland" for your recommendation vote support.