Text/Bai Yujing on horseback
【I】
There was a heavy snowfall in the spring of that year.
Xu Fengming rings the ring, and the spring snow covers the Lantai. He was dressed in a pear blossom white dress, and the light robe ribbon reflected in the cold lake mirror of frost and snow. At a glance at the vast water shadow of the plain, he suddenly seemed to see the man smiling at himself across the vast blue water: "Disciple, there are no mountains in the territory of Bieliang." ”
Yes. He proudly lowered his hands and closed his eyes slightly. There are no mountains, so no matter where I am in the distance, I will inevitably see this flat land without any obstacles, inevitably face all of you, and perhaps, see your timeless voice from this land that you have left behind.
Cold snowflakes scattered between the eyebrows. That kind of shallow coolness is not aware at first, but it can slowly infiltrate into the bones, little by little, make a corner cold, and then melt.
The footsteps slowly approached from a distance, and he knew that she had not moved her true breath as she walked, so he had turned back in a flash of time when the person was approaching. The beautiful-looking woman was dressed like snow, and the cold mourning hit her eyes. He didn't dare look her straight, didn't dare to hear her—he knew he couldn't listen, he was going crazy.
Her eyes were intertwined for a long time, and she almost understood all kinds of things that penetrated her eyes, but... But suddenly staggered their eyes as if unconscious. Between the rose-colored lips, he had cruelly spoken the inevitable reality of his three years: "Changchun, the master is dead." ”
"No two!"
Fingers curled up into the warmest place in the palm of the hand in an instant... It will still be cold. The wind of early spring gently blows up Sun Buji's clothes,
Qiu Zhiji saw her smile at him, and smiled very softly. He had never seen such a gentle Sun Buji.
Sun Buji quietly crossed him, walked to the edge of the lake, raised his eyes to the shore of the lake, and his clothes were the wind. Her voice was steady: "Changchun." I only say this once. ”
Qiu Stood behind her, slightly furrowing his brow.
"I love you." The tone was always low and soft, but this moment suddenly shocked to the bottom of my heart, qiu could not move, and heard her continue, "Already... It's been a long, long time. Maybe longer than you think... Maybe. ”
He didn't open his mouth. The silvery snow in the center of the lake gradually melted in, and the ripples swung around in a circle, all the way to the present. He looked at her back in horror as if he had never seen this person before. She turned quietly, a tear fell directly from the corner of her eye, and without looking at him again, she brushed past him. And his ear still has the words she said as she walked past her: "It's just that there is no room for anyone in your eyes except Master." ”
There is no room for anyone.
be...... Is that so.
He remembered that year, outside the Smoke Cave of Kunming Mountain, in the shadows of the overlapping autumn leaves, the gray-clad man picked up a copper coin between the crevices of the rocks, raised his hand and asked him: "Is this yours?" ”
At that time, he was still a teenager, bent on cultivating immortal ascension. He stubbornly threw the copper coins out of the cave again and again, and then forced himself to calm down and search for them again and again from the chaotic piles at the foot of the mountain, in the dense jungle, and between the crevices in the rocks outside the cave, until he was once again retrieved by the copper coins he had abandoned with devotion.
After that, there was an accident in which a gray-clad indifference broke into life. Just like life, it is an accident.
He looked at the man silently at the mouth of the cave and did not answer for a long time. All along, there was no way to relieve his loneliness. However, such a handsome man who was staring at the copper coin immortal wind Dao bone outside the cave, he actually felt relieved. What about more than ten years of loneliness, and what about the painstaking loneliness of thousands of days and nights without progress, he knew that maybe he was so stubborn and unrepentantly chasing the process of unattainable faith, maybe, maybe.
Hesitant sighs rested between the teeth, and the cool mountain breeze chilled the tongue's tongue. Maybe...... Maybe?
Maybe it's just for the sake of encountering.
He worshipped him as his teacher, and this year, Qiu Wasji was nineteen years old.
Three years later, in the spring, Wang Chongyangxian died in Bieliang, a place where he had told his disciples that there were no mountains.
【II】
In the spring of the year Wang Chongyang left, there was a heavy snowfall, just like today. On that day, he and Ma Yu, Tan Chuduan and Liu Chuxuan retreated at the gate in unison, and the spring wind in Bieliang City was very strong, and he thought that Master must feel cold inside, but even at the time of his death, Wang Chongyang did not allow a few of them to go further.
Until he sensed the sound of breathing inside him disappearing little by little by virtue of his internal strength, he broke into the room in spite of Master's orders and knelt down in front of Master's bed. A beautiful gray dress like when I first saw it, elegant and proud. The picturesque man sat cross-legged, his sparkling eyes closed into a slender and gentle arc.
When he left, Ma Yu once asked him, "Are you really not going to return to the Quanzhen Sect?" Don't forget that Master has put the responsibility into your hands. ”
He just smiled casually and looked at Ma Yu. "Will be back."
It's going to come back, a year, two years, ten years. Will always be back. Until I dared to face every remnant of his vague shadow in the Quanzhen Sect, until I was no longer afraid to feel his breath everywhere, the hatred and despair that had nowhere to go.
He went to The Creek alone and lived there for seven years, but it turned out that it was still not enough. After coming to Longmen Mountain in Longzhou, it was another six years.
"There are no fireworks, no scoops", "broken and heavy clothing, sitting alone in the cold air". Such a life has emptied all previous obsessions. He thought he had enough to let go, so he returned to the Quanzhen Sect.
Ma Yu married Sun Buji, and on the day of his marriage, he specially rushed back from Longmen Mountain. Sun Buji avoided the crowd and looked at him alone in the cloister behind the main hall. No one mentioned the words she had said to him when he ran back to Bieliang a few years ago.
The night was superb, and the moonlight on the porch flowed all over the ground. After a long time, Sun Buji finally asked softly, "Have you forgotten?" ”
A sentence without a beginning and a tail. But he understood.
Have you forgotten what I said to you that day? Have you forgotten the pain?
There was a long silence. In the leisurely night, he finally relaxed a smile. The loneliness of lips and teeth separated at this moment, as if it were a solemn farewell to the past.
"Yes." He finally lowered his eyes and smiled slightly, "I forgot. ”
When Qiu Was fifty-nine years old, he knew that his limit was approaching, so he ordered his disciples to come to his side and personally made a last word.
Before he died, he remembered the moon-like light outside the Yanxia Cave. Quietly narrowed his eyes.
【Epilogue】
In the fifth year of Emperor Taizong of Yuan, the Quanzhen Sect was ordered by Qiu to rebuild the Chongyang Temple, which lasted for thirty years. Destroyed by war at the end of the Yuan Dynasty.
postscript
I wrote a lot of poems in those years, but most of them were forgotten. Turning out this article of the same humanities of seven or eight years ago, I was suddenly poked in the heart by this sentence "Xu Fengming Ring, Spring Snow Covers Lantai".
I didn't know it at the time, and now I can't write such a beautiful sentence anymore.
The original poem was a woman who imitated the ancient yong, and now it seems that only the first four sentences are written,
The new Aya cuts the spring banner, and the spring snow covers the orchid platform.
Xu Fengming rings the ring, the beauty is no longer there.
Poetry is also something that needs to be insisted on.
—END—