Shen Yi's Darkness and Depression

Chapter 12

"Guan'er, are you awake?" Murong Jingyu's face was pale, his eyes were still red and swollen, and some traces of tears could still be vaguely seen on his cheeks.

"What time is it?" Yun Wan and Murong Jingyu were too close, and she could bump into his chin when she raised her head. She wanted to sit up and lean on it, but her stiff body seemed to be tied with hemp rope, and her fingers were even more sore and numb. Like fine needle pricks, the wound on the palm also ached.

"It's noon, everything that needs to be arranged and purchased is ready. I'm thinking about discussing with Guan'er who to invite to host it? To the outside world, it is said that Master Duanmu died of a sudden illness?" Murong Jingyu kept looking down at Yun Wan With the gauze wrapped around his hands, he didn't dare to look up at her sad eyes.

"Okay, Brother Jing, thank you for your hard work. If you have time, go to Lingkong Temple and talk to Master Huiling to see if he can come to your residence." Yun Wan replied thoughtfully, as if her ability to perceive pain had been turned off Similarly, even if I repeatedly confirmed that it was not a dream, I couldn't shed a single tear.

"Okay." After Murong Jingyu handed the white filial gown to Yun Wan, he went out, leaving her alone in thought while holding the filial gown.

I don't know how long it took before Yun Wan started to tidy up her appearance, how could she go to see her father's remains without washing up?When she and Ji repeatedly appeared in her mind, he happily said that your eyes are as breathtaking as your mother's. The breeze blows, and the petals of golden osmanthus are scattered all over the ground, and the air is full of sweet fragrance. A rare smile.

"Chong Lizhi chivalrous heroism carries the spring and autumn, and the old and the new are worthy of regret." Silk and white silk, black lacquer script, hanging on both sides of the memorial ceremony, five-color wreaths with yellow and white double chrysanthemums stand quietly, as if watching his departure Go, watch his soul pass through the Naihe Bridge, drink Mengpo soup, and forget this life to be liberated, leaving the living forever.

The whole mourning hall was quiet, there was no crying or whispering, everyone knelt quietly and paid homage to Duanmu Chongze devoutly. It was clearly the midsummer season, but the condensed chill in the air refused to dissipate for a long time. What is not cool is the hot fire in the offering basin, which can burn up stacks of paper money and tributes, but it cannot burn out pain and heartache.

"Sister Wan, the host Huiling will be here in a while." You Chen's hoarse voice made Yun Wan feel distressed.

This is the first time that Youchen has been in close contact with death since he was sensible. When the old lady left, Youchen could still naively believe that his grandmother was going to visit the mountains and rivers, and he would often shake Yunwan's hand coquettishly, asking her to take him with him. I want to go to the mountains and rivers to meet my grandmother.

At that time, Youchen didn't know how terrible death was, let alone how beautiful life was.Now Yunwan was very worried seeing him being so emaciated by the master.

"Little benefactor, please mourn." Host Huiling's vigorous voice trembled slightly, while speaking, she held Youchen's hand tightly, as if to transmit strength to the child again, "Buddha will definitely bless Lord Duanmu."

"The auspicious time has come, wake up." After Murong Jingyu shouted, the host Huiling led a group of monks to the front to recite scriptures, and then Yunwan was holding the offering basin, and Youchen was helping her sister Holding the paper money, the siblings looked back at the coffin from time to time, as if they were afraid of being separated if they didn't see each other for a while.

The long funeral procession couldn't see the end, and there were still a lot of people following here and there. The time was too fast, otherwise the master's friends would have come more.

"Is he really dead?"

"I heard that he died of poisoning."

"Didn't you have a serious illness?"

"I'm not sick, I was fine a few days ago."

"I've also heard that she disappeared for several days, probably because she was kidnapped and poisoned."

"This house is in chaos."

"Isn't it? The pillars of the family are gone, and there is still a long way to go after the two dolls are left."

……

The noisy discussion of the common people is hidden in the "Rebirth Mantra" chanted by the monks, "The grievances in the dark and the dark, the death, the sickness and the death. Debts and hatreds, and the accumulation of virtue and good deeds. Wealth and prosperity, blessings are behind you. So far, you can't return it, and you will wait for it in the next life." Continue the frontier." Only this sentence echoed in Yunwan's ears over and over again, and the seeds of revenge quietly sprouted in her heart, but the place where the roots should reach is still a cloud of mist, is it the secret alliance? ?It's just a legend in the rivers and lakes, and there is no trace of it.

"My lord has been buried in the earth for peace, so that the future generations will be safe and healthy." One person, one bowl, covered the new tomb with soil, inserted white flags to drive away ghosts and evil spirits, and then lit a raging flame to burn the wreaths, paper money, tributes, silk cloth, and burn them. Endless is the sorrow and suffering of relatives and friends.

Murong Jingyu took out his treasured jug and threw it into the fire, looked around, seeing Yun Wan's haggard face reddened by the flames, he felt distressed, "Master Duanmu, you can rest assured and go to bliss, leave the rest to me, I will definitely not disappoint you." The loud voice echoed in the valley, startling the birds in the forest, fluttering to the ground and flapping their wings to meet the faint sunlight at dusk, looking so lonely.

Yun Wan finally kowtowed, got up and dragged You Chen down the mountain, "Chen'er, don't look back." The two plain white linen clothes were like two rootless duckweeds, floating lightly with the crowd, no one to rely on.

In life, weeping and crying are as white as silk; in death, they pass away in a hurry and are as gray and dark as sand.Reminiscing about the soldiers and horses of the past, offering sacrifices to the heroic names after death.When the silk comes, the books will not be enough; if the sand is gone, the pagoda will not be piled up.I only blame the deceased for being so, nothing more.

　[-]rd anniversary~

　　
　
(End of this chapter)