All living beings in hell

Chapter 18 - The Heart of Poetry
If there are top three things I don't like to do in Yangjian, moving will definitely occupy the first and second positions.

It's not about moving into a new home, but about moving out of a place you've lived in for a while—just packing, packing, and saying goodbye to each piece of past items is enough to consume energy.It’s not that I’m reluctant to move out—at the moment, this rental house isn’t very good either. It’s cold in winter and hot in summer, and watermarks can be seen on the walls that are still wet during the rainy season. I really want to leave here.But when it was really time to pack and pack, scenes from the past uncontrollably appeared in front of my eyes, each item carried its unique weight, and I also knew that these weights were about to disappear in my life forever .

Throwing things is tiring, and keeping things is tiring.

I was exhausted before the sun set, and fell on the bed, thinking about how to do the work in the underworld for a while.

The sunset was so short that it made people feel a little anxious. With a whole body of exhaustion, I opened my arms and jumped into hell.

The lotus lantern at the entrance was lit up, and the office welcomed No.14 guests.

The footsteps are crisp and small, like the sound of wooden soles stepping lightly on the bluestone board: "My lord, I'm coming." A female voice came from the door.

I couldn't hold back, I covered a long yawn with a flick of my sleeve.

"The writer looks a little tired." The woman didn't see me, maybe she heard my yawn, or maybe she smelled sleepiness.

"It's not bad, please sit down." I spread my pen and ink, "What should I call you?"

"Chalan family." The woman sat down, her movements were gentle, and she was very particular about etiquette.She was dressed in a blue-purple silk gown, with a big bun on her head, embellished with pearls and turquoise, she looked like a princess from the Qing Dynasty.

I wrote "Chalan's" three big characters on the paper: "Excuse me, what can I do for you today?"

"Why is the writer so tired?"

"This is my private business."

"Oh, sorry for the offense. The slave is just curious."

"Don't talk about me, talk about yours. Why did you come here today?"

"I heard that the pen-holder is good at writing. I would like to ask the pen-holder to compose a poem for me. I wonder if it is possible?" When she said this, she bowed her head slightly, and the jewels on her hair trembled up and down with her movements. .

I hesitated, although my job is to record the stories of the sentient beings in hell and bring them back to the human world.But writing poetry is indeed within the scope of writing, and there is no conflict.

"What is the purpose of asking me to write a poem?"

"I was fond of poetry when I was alive. Before entering the palace, I vowed to wander the world with a poet. Unfortunately, the man caught a cold on the way and left early. Only me and one of our children were left behind. In desperation, I had no choice but to sell the child to a businessman. With this silver, I bribed the officials who chose the concubine at that time, lied about my age, and entered the royal harem."

"I still don't understand why you want to ask me to write a poem?"

"My heart withered long ago, my lord. When he died, my heart withered with his poems. It's been too long, it's been too long, I don't know what it's like to love someone gone."

"So you hope my poems can help you find the feeling of love?"

"Back to my lord, I hope so."

I lowered my head and thought for a while: "It's hard for me to do this. You love that person, and only that person's poems can move your heart and make you feel loved. I don't have this ability."

"My lord, you are very similar to him. I know what kind of words and sentences people like you write, and what kind of songs they sing. My lord, I just want to feel love again, please help me. "

"What do you do after you feel the love?"

"Maybe, maybe I just want to get out of here."

"If you want to leave, you can do it at any time. Why do you have to do it after you get the poems?"

Chalan's hands, as thin as the branches of a winter sycamore tree, suddenly tore open the clothes on his chest. I was taken aback by this action.Her chest was a huge hollow, and there was a shriveled heart in the hole, which had almost shrunk to the size of an egg.The surface is covered with cracks and folds, no blood, no beating, hanging alone in the hollow.

For some reason, seeing this raisin-like heart, my chest also twitched twice, and the original drowsiness was instantly dispelled by the pain caused by the twitching.

"Po Meng told me that I need to find my heart. Before I find my heart, I cannot be reincarnated. With such a shapeless heart, even if I am reincarnated, I will not be a perfect person, and I will not feel emotions. "

"Did Granny Meng tell you how to find your heart?"

"Meng Po said, let me come to you. She said that the writer will find a way for me to find my heart again."

I am confused, as a civil servant, how can I restore a raisin into a human heart?It's completely beyond my ability!
"It's a pity that I don't know how to help you get back your heart. I'm just a civil official. I don't know what to do about restoring an organ."

"Write poetry, my lord, write a poem for me. With poetry, I can come alive. With poetry, I can feel love." Chalan's voice was almost pleading.

"There are other writing officials in this hell, why ask me to write poems?"

"There are five writers in the prison, each of whom performs their duties and is their master. But you are the only one who is human. Only poetry written by humans can nourish a human heart."

"What if the poems I write can't awaken your heart?" I was still hesitating.

"My lord, I won't embarrass you. If it doesn't work, I'll find another way out."

I got up and poured two cups of hot tea, and put them in front of her and me: "Do you want poetry?"

"This is the only way I can think of now..." When Chalan said this, she was even apologetic.The clothes on her chest were still torn, and behind the rags was the shriveled heart.

That's all, since they are all writing jobs, just treat them as writing jobs.I thought about it and took a sip of hot tea: "Do you still remember the poem he wrote to you back then?"

"He never wrote poems for me. He only wrote about mountains and rivers, and only about heroes and knights. He said that the affairs of men and women are trivial, and they are the least worthy of being recorded in poetry."

"Which poem moved you the most?"

"Probably not poetry...it's waiting."

"wait?"

"I'm waiting, waiting. I always think that one day, he can write a poem for me. People can't wait, but this expectation is still in my heart, and it has collapsed along with my heart."

"So what can restore your heart is not poetry, but to meet that expectation. And this expectation should not be met by me. It is your unfinished regret in life. Chalan, how did you come to this hell? middle?"

"I...I," her eyes began to empty, and memories flooded, "the emperor... the emperor is dead...and needs to be buried with him. I don't want to. That night, I swallowed the red crest of the crane, and then I kept walking, always Go. First the esophagus started to burn, and then the stomach... The stomach hurts so much, it hurts so much, it's all twisted together. But I still want to go, I want to get out of this palace, I want to go back to him...I don't want to put This body stays in this stuffy place. My lord...what is my life for..."

"What do you think it is for?"

Muddy tears flowed from Chalan's empty eyes, and the tears seemed to be mixed with enough dust, leaving gray and black marks on the cheeks that flowed: "My lord, I just want to listen to a song written for me. It’s just poetry. Why is it so difficult? My lord, is this too much to ask?”

"Heard this poem, then what?"

"I...I don't know."

"What do you really want is just a poem? Chalan Shi, what do you want?"

"I..." Chalan's tears were still flowing out uncontrollably, and gray-black water marks were printed on her blue-purple silk robe.I took out a silk handkerchief from the table and handed it to her to wipe away my tears, without asking any further questions.Soon, Sipa, who was originally light beige, was also stained black by her tears.

"My lord..." Chalan sobbed.

"Well, tell me, I'm listening."

"I... what I want is, love."

"What is love?" I asked her.

"I don't want to be separated from him...don't want to be separated from my children..."

"What you don't want is, separation."

"I don't understand why we have to separate, obviously we love each other so much, why should we separate?"

"For a better reunion." I said.

"What?" Chalan didn't seem to understand what I was saying.

"Separation is for a better reunion." I repeated.

The Chalan family wiped away tears: "My lord, this servant is stupid and doesn't understand the meaning..."

I filled the nib of the sapphire pen with ink, and the ink dripped lightly into the teacup in front of Chalan.The black ink quickly melted in the blue tea soup and spread everywhere
"You see, nothing in this world stays in place forever. Even in this hell with no time limit, the ink will eventually melt into the tea, and no one can stop it from happening. Love will turn to hate , love will turn into hatred, and vice versa, they are all pushed forward a little bit in the process. Then the separation is the same, it's just a part of this ink that melts into the tea soup. How do you know that it won't happen in the future? See you again?"

"I... I'm not sure."

"One thing I can be sure of, if you continue to stay in this hell, there is a high chance that you will never see him again."

"My lord means..."

"Let go of him, let go of poetry, let go of yourself."

Chalan sat there blankly and didn't answer me.I put the tail of the sapphire pen into the teacup and stirred it. The ink was evenly mixed with the tea soup, and a green light flowed from the sapphire pen into the tea soup.

"Drink this," I said.

"What?" Chalan was still a little dazed.

I raised this cup of ink tea and put it in front of Chalan: "Come on, drink it."

Chalan looked at it suspiciously, picked it up and sipped it, then raised her head and downed it in one gulp.She coughed twice, and wiped the ink from the corners of her mouth with the blackened silk handkerchief.As the tea soup entered her throat, the rags on her chest slowly glowed green.

Chalan lowered her head and opened her clothes, looking at the hollow in her chest—the green light was swimming in the grooves on the surface of her heart, and the tea that had just entered her body moistened the dry blood vessels.

"My lord! This! This is?"

"Go find Granny Meng."

"My lord, I, I don't understand, what did you do?"

"Your heart heard what I said."

"my heart……?"

"Since your heart has heard it, I think it already knows what to do."

As soon as the words fell, there was a heartbeat from Chalan's chest. Chalan touched her chest and covered her mouth in surprise: "Master... my lord..."

"Let's go find Granny Meng."

Clutching the rag on her chest tightly with her withered hands, Chalan stood up and bowed to me: "I am so grateful for this kindness!"

"Bless you, go."

"My lord, will I see you again in the future?"

"If there is a fate."

"But you said that parting is for a better reunion."

"Then you should cultivate well." I smiled.

The Chalan family bowed again, then turned around, turned around three times at a step, and saluted again when they came to the door.

"I'm going, my lord."

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

The lotus lantern at the entrance of the office dimmed, and I stretched, and my sleepiness dissipated a lot.I thought about the conversation with Chalan just now and smiled.

Isn't breaking up and leaving is what I have to do when I go back to the world?There are still a lot of things waiting for me to clean up in the rental house.

Thinking of this, I sorted out my pen and ink, put away my sapphire pen, and walked towards the world.

(End of this chapter)