"I dare not, but I don't know if the one I met today was Master Zhongli, or..."
Su Wei didn't even look at the cunning monk and refused to give him an answer. He just waved his sleeves and walked straight into the depths of the hall.
The wrinkled cushion in the middle of the hall had not been tidied up yet, and some scriptures and oilcloths were scattered around it. The most eye-catching thing was the faded red lacquer wooden box. It was the incense stand in the hall, and it had now been dismantled. The broken silver and copper coins inside were spread all over the floor, as if someone had just counted them.
It is really a temple that cannot be any smaller, and the abbot has to count the incense money himself every day.
Yikong followed closely and noticed the other party's amusement look, but he was still able to calmly walk forward and put the box away, as if the contents were not worthless things, but some supreme magic weapons that had been passed down for a long time.
After quickly cleaning up, he picked up a lamp from the oil lamps stacked into a pagoda shape and held it in his hand.
"Sir, please wait here for a moment."
After saying this, Yikong went behind the prayer flags. A moment later, he came out again carrying a familiar small table. He placed the table next to the cushion facing the Buddha statue, sat on the ground, smoothed the only cushion with his hands, and pushed it in front of the man.
The man stared at the cushion and did not move for a moment.
"Why don't you invite me into the inner hall today?"
Yikong still had a smile on his face, and casually pointed at the large Buddha statue behind him with its brows lowered: "This Buddha statue cannot be seen in the inner hall, little monk..."
The man raised his narrow eyes slightly: "Are you scared?"
Yikong finally paused and sighed honestly.
"As a rule, you should come to the temple once a month. Now, because of the Bijiang incident, you have been delayed for several months. I am a little worried."
The man finally decided to let him go and sat down lightly on the cushion. His meditation posture looked even more experienced than Yikong's.
"Coming from a Buddhist background, I'm actually terrified by unexpected things."
The monk was obviously accustomed to this humiliating way of speaking. He took down the copper kettle that was burning perfectly on the charcoal brazier and calmly poured two cups of tea.
"I am only following my master's wishes and doing my duty diligently. I am afraid that any omissions may lead to hidden dangers."
Su Wei's fingertips tapped the amber-colored wood grain on the small table, resembling animal eyes. It was the color of high-quality Canaan wood, rubbed over the years. The purple clay teacup on it was as pitch black as the black demon-subduing pestle.
"In your opinion, are there any omissions?"
Yikong didn't look at the person in front of him, but just looked quietly at the two small cups filled with tea on the small table.
"Young Master used to always take a sip of this tea first."
Su Wei was silent for a moment before he slowly said, "I don't like drinking tea to begin with. I just don't like this teacup today."
"Young Master never mentions likes or dislikes."
A clear voice echoed in the hall, and the flickering candlelight on the small table also flickered, illuminating the glaring faces of the four guardian Vajras around it, making them look somewhat hideous.
After a long moment, Yikong spoke again, but his voice lacked the gentleness and compassion of the past.
"Sir, are you interested?"
Su Wei didn't say anything, and Yikong's tone became even colder.
"You should be most aware of your situation, young master. Every thought and action you have is dangerous."
Every thought and action is dangerous.
These eight words were left to him by Master Wushan, who had not yet passed away.
Now Wu Shan's apprentice repeated it to him. It was like a curse specially designed for him. He had to rely on it to survive, but he was also bound by it and could not get rid of it for the rest of his life.
"I have been in danger, and for years I have not remembered what fear is."
"Sir, if you don't consider yourself, you should at least consider the people around you." Yikong sighed, revealing a rare sense of helplessness, and continued to ask, "When did it start?"
When did it start?
This is a good question, and he needs to think about it carefully.
The scene of the day when they returned from Huozhou and stopped by the stream outside Quecheng flashed before Su Wei's eyes.
She knocked on his door and window and handed the plump, bright red fruit to him.
He believed he could withstand any temptation, but in that ordinary, tiny, and brief moment without any premeditated plan, he felt a slight hesitation coming from deep within his body.
He wanted to take the ripe apple, not because he should do so at the moment, but simply because he wanted to.
It has been a long, long time since he had the thought of "thinking".
Long before, he had already cast aside those desires and was ready to never pick them up again in this life.
But life is indeed too long. Even someone as aloof as him has long felt tired and bored.
He thought that if he just stepped back a little, the emotions that were out of his control would dissipate.
So he rejected her using the sour fruit as an excuse.
But she didn't leave.
She stubbornly took out more fruits and placed them in front of him.
He looked at those bright red fruits, as if he saw again her stubbornness as she was knocked down from the Pingxiao Tower again and again and got up again and again.
If he opened the heavily guarded door, would she be willing to leave the sunlight, pass through the darkness, and come to the other side?
However, just like the first crack appeared on an ancient, huge, indestructible mountain, the crack will continue to exist and eventually expand to an uncontrollable situation.
Xiao Nanhui, you should have walked away when I first told you that the fruit was sour.
It might be difficult to leave now.
When thoughts arise, there are love, hate, life, death and separation.
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