Chapter 70 Kabala

"...What is Kabala?" Qi Xiaopang asked without understanding, and Qing Bai had already frowned.

The little monk sat on the doorstep, sometimes he would fly the fist-sized cicada with a straw rope as a kite, and sometimes he would pinch the cicada's belly and put it close to his face to play with it as a small fan. The little one played with the insect in many different ways, and the big one actually watched with great interest.

The scene of the two, one big and one small, one monk and one novice, facing each other without looking at each other, and me looking at the cicada and you looking at me, is actually quite Zen-like, especially when we know that they are standing on two sides of time, this scene becomes even more interesting.

So the three onlookers did not urge them.

Perhaps having seen enough and having composed his sentences, Ai Chan finally began to explain, "...Sky burial is a popular practice in Tibetan Buddhism. After a lama dies, his body is carried to a high place, where it will be devoured by vultures. This is the final and most noble form of almsgiving."

Ai Chan paused at this point, and Fat Qi chimed in, "I know that! I heard someone say it when I was traveling in Tibet. It seems like they were imitating their ancestors by cutting off their flesh to feed the eagles."

"Sacrifice your body for charity, and your soul will be immortal and will be reincarnated over and over again." Qing Bai said softly.

Qi Xiaopang glanced at Qing Bai in surprise. He hadn't expected that his brother Qing knew so much about religion, even the theory of sky burial in Tibet. It seemed that his brother Qing had not wasted the time when they were worried that he would "go astray" and be deceived by charlatans. Instead, he was seriously studying and understanding "folk customs".

Jiu Nian also lowered his head to look at Qing Bai, with a faint, worried light in his clear eyes.

Qing Bai seemed to sense something and looked up, but because of the height, he could only see a section of the jawline that looked almost sharp due to the angle.

Ai Chan nodded, her voice more hollow than the mountain wind. "After giving away the bones, they remained. Those bones couldn't be wasted, so they were used to make ritual instruments, namely the Kabala... the human bone rosary."

Qing Bai had anticipated this, but Fatty Qi hissed and frowned as he glanced at the beads on the little monk's wrist. He didn't dare to look any further and quickly averted his gaze. After a moment of awkwardness, he finally asked, "I know... you... you shouldn't have that... that thing on you right now, right?"

Of course, he respected the different traditional cultures and customs of different ethnic groups and religions, but the thought of his good friend eating, sleeping, and living with them while wearing a string of human bones still made him a little terrified...

Ai Chan was silent even longer this time, so long that goose bumps appeared and disappeared one by one on Qi Xiaopang's arms, so long that he had no hope at all and comforted himself in his heart that he would be afraid of even ghosts, so why would he be afraid of human bones? They were just skin... and a skeleton inside!

After a long silence, Ai Chan finally spoke: "Buried."

"Buried?"

"Buried!"

Qing Bai and Qi Xiaopang spoke in unison, their words containing completely different emotions. Qing Bai was confused, while Qi Xiaopang was happy.

Qing Bai: "You buried this magical weapon?"

Qi Xiaopang thought his brother Qing's reaction was a bit strange: "Is this Kabala really that powerful?"

No matter how powerful it is, it's still human bones. Wouldn't it be creepy to have it wrapped around your hands and touch it every day? It's also very perverted.

Qing Bai's tone was as if he were explaining something scientifically: "Not all prayer beads made from bones can be called Kapalas. Buddhism emphasizes karma, and believes that the fingers and brow bones are the most closely related. The former is because fingers are the parts monks most often use during rituals, and the latter is because the eyes can understand the world through reading Buddhist scriptures."

"Taking into account the damage done, ten fingers can barely make a string of Buddhist beads. Eyebrow bones are even more difficult to make. They are hard and rare. Ten brow bones of great monks might not be enough to make a string of beads. And they can only be made by hand. That's why the Kapalā is extremely precious. It is said that it can bring peace to the dead and safety to the living. It is a magic weapon that truly understands the greatness of life and death and the principles of yin and yang."

At the end of his words, Qing Bai pursed his lips subtly.

This Kabara sounds like it's quite powerful, but...

"It's still human bones." said Qi Xiaopang.

Qi Xiaopang's words were really a bit hard to swallow. Fortunately, they were the only ones here. If there were others, they would probably be laughed at. It's already called a magic weapon, so who cares what it's made of? Those who need it only care about its power.

Ai Chan really laughed, not in a mocking or polite way, but with his eyes and brows relaxed and bright. At this moment, even though he was wearing a robe and standing in the temple, he no longer looked like a clay sculpture or wooden carving.

He laughed and said, "Yeah, after all it's human bones... so I buried it."

Dead bones should be buried in the earth.

They talked for a long time, but the young monk was just concentrating on playing with the cicada, and he had no awareness at all that the "kabala" they were talking about was the rosary in his hand.

Qing Bai seemed to be lost in thought and asked, "When did you bury it?"

Ai Chan didn't hide it and answered quickly: "When I decided to go to the capital to study."

Then he bent down and said to the young monk, "Take us to find the master. I want to see him."

The little monk who was having fun wrinkled his nose and looked unhappy: "Master is meeting a guest."

"I know." Ai Chan looked into the young monk's eyes and leaned forward. Their eyes met very closely, and the resemblance between their eyebrows finally became apparent. He whispered, "Don't you really hate that guest? I can help you get rid of him."

"Don't lie to yourself."

Qing Bai and the other two looked at the scene of deceiving the child in front of them, and said nothing.

The young monk was so coaxed that he stuffed the cicada into the wide sleeves of his robe, turned around, pushed open the temple door, and turned back to emphasize, "I'm only responsible for leading the way."

Ai Chan nodded, looking like a reliable adult.

After the little monk took a few steps forward and was a little distance away from them, Fatty Qi asked quietly, "Do you know who the guest is?"

Ai Chan did not answer and followed the little monk.

Qing Bai said: "Since it happened when he was a child, it must have already happened. He naturally knows about it."

Qi Xiaopang still couldn't figure it out: "Then how come the little cicada wasn't frightened when it saw its grown-up self and us? Are monks so receptive?"

He had been wanting to complain about this for a long time, and he couldn't help but say it, so he finally got the chance.

Jiu Nian followed Ai Chan into the temple gate, without affecting Qing Bai's conversation. He reminded Qi Xiaopang, "This is a crevice, not a journey through time and space."

Qi Xiaopang was a second late in entering the room. He almost forgot that they had only entered a crevice and that the cicada was alive and well. It had not been replaced halfway and was not controlled by an unknown entity. No matter how real, similar, or lively the little monk was, he was just a creature of resentment, or an image in the memory of the crevice lord, not the real little cicada.

After entering, I found that the temple was not very big. Unlike the bright vermilion gate, the temple was very simple and ancient, or even old. The stone bricks on the ground were not very flat, and many of them were cracked and warped. The paint on the pillars on the side of the courtyard was also faded and mottled. There was a huge locust tree in the courtyard, with lush branches and leaves, providing shade, and the crown of the tree covered half of the temple like a big umbrella.

It is cool in the summer, but it also blocks out the sun. Even in the daytime, the hall where the Buddha statues are enshrined is lit with candles. Looking through the smoke and fire, you can see the colorful Bodhisattva with a kind look and lowered head.

When the door closed by itself, Jiu Nian stopped and turned back, as if realizing something, and happened to meet Qi Xiaopang's confused face: "Why don't you leave?"

Jiu Nian thought for a moment, shook his head, and followed Ai Chan in front without saying anything.

Qing Bai understood him better than he thought. Seeing him like this, he knew that this man had discovered something, but he didn't say it actively. Qing Bai was inexplicably unwilling to take the initiative to ask, so he simply leaned on Jiu Nian's shoulder and looked back, wanting to see what he had just seen that was worth stopping and pondering.

Qi Xiaopang felt confused and felt a chill on his back when he saw the two men's gazes. He had to carefully put on a flattering smile.

Qing Bai: “…”

This temple is not big but has many corridors. After turning a few corners, I finally arrived at a small courtyard. This should be where the monks in the temple live. Compared with those tall and silent magnificent halls with clay and wooden sculptures, the place where living people live is much shorter. If you look down from a high place, you can only see a few square matchboxes.

The little monk paused his happy steps, straightened his clothes, raised his little fist and knocked on the door of a matchbox.

The person who opened the door was a skinny old man. When he saw the little monk, he smiled with wrinkles all over his face. His dry hands, like the roots of a century-old tree, touched the back of the little monk's smooth head affectionately. Then the old man called the little monk "Zhu Gu" in a low and hoarse voice.

Qing Bai looked at Ai Chan in surprise, but saw that he was staring at the door with a serious look... There was a person sitting there.

The sallow face with a bluish-white tint was covered with wrinkles. In the room lit by only one candle, only a pair of eyes flashed with a little brilliance. The dark red Zhongshan suit was stiff and stiff, more like paper than cloth... It turned out to be the old man in the Zhongshan suit who sat in the main seat with his bodyguard in the dining room of the farmhouse at the foot of the mountain this morning.

But the man in the crack looked more than ten years older than when he saw him at the farmhouse in the morning. The Zhongshan suit he was wearing didn't seem to fit him well, hanging loosely on his body, as if he would be buried at any time.

But according to the time and the corresponding relationship between the little monk and the wailing cicada, what happened in this crack should have been more than ten years ago, so his half-dead state is somewhat intriguing.

"Is this the... child you were talking about, Master?" The old man in the Zhongshan suit stood up tremblingly and took two steps towards the door with difficulty. He stretched out his withered hands covered with age spots and tried to touch Ai Chan. The eyes that had only a little glimmer of light left just now were like rekindled ashes, emitting an almost scorching light.

The old monk's back could no longer be straightened, like an old turtle carrying a tortoise shell, but it was still more than enough to cover the young monk who was only a few years old. He stopped the hand of the old man in the Zhongshan suit, and the smile on his face faded, leaving only a shriveled skin.

...When people get old to a certain extent, they no longer look like humans. They look like weathered stones, half-burned bark, dried-up riverbeds, or anything else that has lost its moisture and is half-buried in the soil. In short, they no longer look like humans.

The inhuman old monk's expression changed very quickly. Standing at the intersection of light and shadow, he spoke in a low voice that could scare a kindergartener and a fat Qi into tears. He said slowly, "Mr. Tang, we have an agreement. Please don't make things complicated."

Just one sentence made the old man in the Zhongshan suit regain his senses and sit back in his original seat.

After dealing with Mr. Tang, the old monk smiled and patted the young monk on the head, saying almost lovingly, "Go and play, go and play, good Zhugu. You can play all day today until the evening bell rings."

"Remember not to go to the woods behind the mountain. It's very dangerous there."

The young monk didn't say anything. He turned around and looked at Ai Chan. However, it seemed that except for him, no one else present could see the few people standing suddenly at the door.

The little monk waited for a long time but received no response, so he had to run away in a depressed mood. He didn't run far before squatting on the other side of the yard, playing with something. It might be the cicada hidden in his sleeve, or he might be scratching the wall.

Perhaps because he was worried, the old monk did not close the door and talked to Mr. Tang with the door open.

This not only makes it convenient for him to keep an eye on the movements of the young monks in the courtyard at any time, but also makes it convenient for Qing Bai and others to sit in on the proceedings.

"Master, can we really not discuss this anymore?" Mr. Tang leaned forward in excitement, like a dead tree that would break at any moment.

The old monk picked up the wooden bowl on the table and took a sip of the liquid in the bowl. He smacked his lips and said, "Mr. Tang, please stop while you're ahead."

The content of the words could be said to be quite blunt, but the old monk's tone was unusually calm, even lukewarm, giving people a strong sense of disconnection.

"I also want to quit while I'm ahead, but..." Mr. Tang's eyes were fanatical and his smile was strange, "In the end, between humans and monkeys, humans are better."