Chapter 662 Old Time Marks on Sansheng Stone

   "When I was young, I had no books at home, so I borrowed the "Selected Works", and I saw the article "Nagamon Fu", as if I had read it, and the same is true for "Li Sao"."

   Yuan Mei, a great scholar in the Qing Dynasty, said this in his poems.

   And there is another story involved.

  The protagonist of the story is Huang Tingjian, a figure who was a mentor and friend of Su Dongpo during the Northern Song Dynasty.

   It is said that when he was a Zhizhou, he took a nap one day. In a dream, he dreamed that he walked out of the yamen and came to a village. He saw an old woman set up an incense table to pray, and there was a bowl of celery noodles on the table.

  Woke up with the scent of celery still in my mouth.

   This is a very strange dream, although strange, but nothing more.

   However, Huang Tingjian had the same dream again the next day!

In amazement, after waking up, Huang Tingjian followed the path in the dream, and then really came to a village, and saw the old woman in the dream. After inquiring, he learned that yesterday was his daughter's death anniversary. The anniversary of his death is Huang Tingjian's birthday, and it is the same year.

   If it ends here, it can be said to be just a coincidence.

But what happened next became more bizarre. The girl loved to read before her death, and left a large bookcase with books. The cabinet was locked, and the old woman didn't know where the key was, but Huang Tingjian found the key and opened it. bookcase.

  There are many manuscripts in the bookcase, and Huang Tingjian is very familiar with the content of the manuscripts.

  …

   The truth of this story is indistinguishable, but judging from the contradictory records in the unofficial anecdotes, it is most likely false, just like the story of Su Dongpo's sister Su Xiaomei. ——No one is really, nothing really happened.

   This anecdote appeared in Xu Guangling's consciousness at this time, and what he thought was not whether it was true or false.

   is a variety of bits and pieces recorded or rumored from ancient times to the present.

   From Confucius's "born to know", to the "talented by heaven" of various juvenile prodigies, such as Fang Zhongyong, who is also in the Song Dynasty, is an example.

The story of    and Huang Tingjian is suspected to be fabricated. This is an exact factual record. It is from Wang Anshi's "Shang Zhongyong". Of course, Wang Anshi may also be fabricated or deceived. - but this may not be much.

   "Fang Zhongyong, a native of Jinxi, was a cleric in the world. Zhong Yong lived for five years, and he didn't know the book utensils, so he suddenly cried and asked for it. The father is different, so I borrowed it from the side, that is, four lines of poetry and poetry, and named it by myself."

   Shi Li farming.

   did not know books.

   is four lines of poetry, and it is named after itself.

   These three descriptions are added together, which is very concise but very specific to show what is "talented by heaven".

   is not smart.

   is not learned.

   And that is—

   Born to know it!

   To put it simply, some people are born with consciousness starting from a blank sheet of paper, while some people are born with a basket of things. Once certain conditions are met, the things in the basket will be triggered.

Before   , Xu Guangling thought that this fact was related to the situation of the Ito sisters, that is, they were born with extraordinary talents, and their top apertures were different from ordinary people.

   And now, what Tianjianjing said shows another possibility.

Xu Guangling stood quietly outside the town for a long time, waiting until the strands of white mist in the room slowly spread like smoke, from the room to the outside of the room, and then continued to spread little by little until it completely dissipated. disappear.

  This process lasted about three days.

   "What did those scattered fragments of consciousness dissipate into? The most primitive micro-energy without any information?" Xu Guangling suddenly thought of such a question.

"Do not".

   "Like the leaves of a tree falling into the soil?" After thinking about it, Xu Guangling asked again.

   And this question was affirmed by Jiantianjing.

"Yes".

  When autumn and winter come, the leaves of the trees fall one after another, fall to the ground, and rot or decompose into new soil a little bit.

   But this soil is not soil in the general sense. It is a soil that has been developed and created, and has many "active substances". This soil, many of which can be used as direct raw materials, can be absorbed by plants and trees.

  When his thoughts turned to this point, Xu Guangling was shocked again and aphasia, or it could not be said to be shocked, but similar to numbness.

"Countless micro-fragments of consciousness are shrouded in this world, so... the more people there are, the more micro-fragments of consciousness will be absorbed by the newborn... So, the growth and evolution of human beings is a superposition. , On such a basis, is the overall development of human consciousness in an accelerated growth?"

"Yes".

   Xu Guangling was silent.

   So, life or death...

  Is life just like the waves on the sea, the waves are constantly emerging and dying, and the waves are eternal.

   There is no wave that can last forever. It is new, it disappears soon, and a new life emerges, but each new life is not a complete new life, but contains some elements of the old individual.

  Life, in such a way, is deduced step by step.

The chanting of    the old woman is still going on.

   For three days, she didn't eat, she only slept a little every day, then recited, and then when she was extremely thirsty, she only drank a little water, and then continued.

   On the third day, Xu Guangling witnessed the death of another old man in the town.

   It should be related to the heavy snow or the cold weather. Under the harsh climate, some old people whose lives are on the borderline and can die are dragged to the side of death.

   This was the first time Xu Guangling witnessed a life from birth to death after becoming a great master.

   In the middle of the night, in a deep sleep, at the moment when the old man was dying, his halo of life, which was already slow, stagnant, and so thin that it was faintly scattered, suddenly shrank as if it had been stimulated by some huge stimulus.

  The scattered aura of life shrinks in an instant, condenses in an instant, and in an instant, from dim to bright, maybe even brighter than he has ever seen in his life.

   Just like the old kerosene lamps, the lights burst suddenly.

   However, just after this sudden burst, the brightness went out instantly and completely.

   Accompanying this explosion and extinction is the white mist rising from the dead body, the so-called soul or consciousness fragment.

   Just like after the oil lamp went out, the smoke began to disperse.

   It also seems that the aura of life has not been completely destroyed, and the remaining part has turned into these white mists.

   Looking at the white mist in another small room in the distance, Xu Guangling's expression was solemn and solemn.

   Returning to the mottled and crumbling stone pile more than 100 kilometers away, Xu Guangling watched for a long time, looking at the stones one by one.

  Those stones are big and small, new and old, although the newest ones are dozens or hundreds of years old.

Each piece is engraved with handwriting, some of which were carved with formal tools, and the handwriting is deep and clear, while others may just be scratched with wood or sharp stones at that time. The handwriting is very vague, and some have been It disappeared completely, leaving only a slight imprint.

   The contents of those handwritings are in Sanskrit, Tibetan, and Chinese. Some of these characters are paragraphs of scriptures, some are only a short sentence, and some are just one or two characters.

"Well".

   "moo".

   also has "hum", as well as "shell", "quilt" and so on.

   There are still some parts of the characters that are incomplete, and only the "ox" or "mouth", which are also somewhat mutilated, are left.

   Looking at these handwritings and at these stones, Xu Guangling seems to see different moods and sustenances through the years, through the vicissitudes, through the mottled, through the smoke and annihilation.

   Some pray for life, some mourn death, and some bless.

   There are also some, perhaps just to express a simple, human compliment to some mysterious existence.

   "I'll hold your hand"

  "You follow me"

   "A walk is a lifetime"

  From the wild, Xu Guangling also summoned a stone, engraved such words on it, and then threw the new stone into the fallen stone pile.

   The old woman's husband.

  When he was young, in the temple, he followed the love poems learned by the master inside.

   is also the only poem that he would know in his life.

  ==

  Thanks to "Xiaowei's Xiaowei" for the recommendation ticket support.

  Thanks for the monthly ticket of "Alas, this sigh".

   (end of this chapter)