When Ji Mohan arrived at the mountaintop temple, he was covered in snowflakes, looking like a snowman. Even though his body was numb, his hands were red from the cold, and his fingertips were bleeding, he was oblivious, or perhaps he saw it but didn't care. He continued to kneel and kowtow every three steps and every nine steps, devoutly worshipping the temple.
He knew he was guilty of grave sins and that the gods and Buddhas would not protect him, but Yan Wan was different; she was the kindest of all.
Kong Chan had been waiting at the temple gate for a long time. Looking at the stubborn young emperor kneeling in worship, he sighed deeply. He still remembered the first time they met. The bold and stubborn Han King, who looked down on the world, firmly believed that human will could overcome nature and thought that gods and Buddhas were nothing but illusory things.
But now, for the sake of one person, he prays to all the gods and Buddhas, just to protect the person in his heart so that they may be happy and carefree.
"Amitabha, Your Majesty, why are you doing this?" Kong Chan's voice came from the steps above Ji Mo Han's head.
Ji Mohan continued his kneeling and bowing, and did not answer his question for a long time. He was simply at his wit's end, and could only entrust his hopes to the gods.
At that moment, he suddenly understood the mentality of those people who prayed to gods and Buddhas. All living beings suffer, but they have no ability or way to break through their suffering. They can only ask the gods and Buddhas to bestow blessings and help them get through the difficulties. Isn't this also a way to seek psychological relief?
Seeing that the other party ignored him, Kong Chan had no choice but to slowly speak again: "Your Majesty, do you still remember the prophecy I gave to the prince when we first met? When conditions arise, things are born; when conditions fall, things perish. Those who meet will surely part. One time, one prayer. All phenomena are illusory."
This time, Ji Mohan, who had been indifferent all along, finally made a move. He raised his eyes and glanced at Kong Chan, asking with a hint of sarcasm, "Illusion? Are you trying to tell me that everything is an illusion? She is an illusion, hahahahahahaha, everything is an illusion." Ji Mohan said self-deprecatingly. He knew that no matter what he did, Yan Wan would not come back; he was just unwilling to accept it.
He doesn't even have the right to hate, let alone the ability to hate.
"Your Majesty, what I mean is, perhaps someone will break through the illusion and return under the moon," Kong Chan said leisurely, looking at the somewhat out-of-control Ji Mohan.
"You mean, she'll come back?" Ji Mohan's eyes suddenly lit up with hope as he asked anxiously. Would Yan Wan really come back?
"Amitabha Buddha, whether Your Majesty can return or not, time will tell. Buddha has seen your sincerity. Please return." Kong Chan stepped forward and handed the prepared fox fur and hot water bottle to Ji Mo Han, then turned around and went back into the temple, closing the temple door. Ji Mo Han, who was still kneeling foolishly at the temple gate, was still immersed in joy and unable to extricate himself.
He could wait as long as Yan Wan came back, whether it was three or five years, ten or twenty years, or even a lifetime. He was just afraid that he would die without ever seeing Yan Wan again.
As long as she comes back, as long as it's her, he'll be content as long as she comes back and looks at him.
He no longer dared to ask for too much. As long as Yan Wan could come back, he didn't ask to be by her side. He just wanted to see her from afar.
As long as she lives, he lives; as long as she is happy, he is happy; as long as she is doing well, he is doing well.
Ji Mohan knelt there motionless until his legs were completely numb. By then, the sun had already set, and the hot water bottle that Kong Chan had placed down was no longer warm. Only then did Ji Mohan stagger to his feet, put the neatly folded fox fur and the hot water bottle back at the temple entrance, and then limped down the mountain alone.
After the young monk opened the temple door, Ji Mohan had already left. The young monk noticed that the benefactor hadn't taken the fox fur and hot water bag he had prepared. He hurriedly ran out, but still couldn't find the benefactor. So the young monk hurriedly grabbed the items and ran back to find his master.
"Master, Master, he didn't take the things we prepared for that benefactor." The little monk handed the things in his hand to Kong Chan and said in a somewhat anxious tone.
"Wuxin, calm down. That benefactor didn't take it with him, so he must have obtained something ten or a hundred times better than what you have," Kongchan said with a smile.
Wu Xin scratched his head in confusion. What could be better than the fox fur and hot water he had? Weren't they the best things to keep warm in winter? What could be more important than these in winter?
Perhaps Wuneng will never understand in his life that while warming the body is important, warming the heart is even more important.
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