Yi Xing

As soon as my aunt and Tang Cheng left, the house became empty.

My uncle often has social gatherings, and I feel more and more lonely alone.

It was only at this time that Fu Yixing was lucky that he chose to live on campus.

I am already very familiar with those monks. I asked them if they had any practice activities recently. They were more than happy to let me go to the temple to help, and it was not necessary to practice.

So I became a temporary sweeping monk of Jinghai Temple.

My uncle once asked me seriously if I had any belief in this aspect, and if I would become a monk in the future.

I told him I don't believe in Buddhism, at least not now.

I feel that I am bound to die, and it is impossible to put down the butcher's knife.

Just trying to do something nice.

There is a lot of homework this summer vacation, and the monks are considerate of me, allowing me to go every morning and leave at noon.I am grateful to them and stay in the temple till evening when they are busy.

It was a gloomy afternoon.

It was stuffy, windless, and the near-saturated humidity oppressed the pores.

The rain can't fall, and the sweat can't get out.

In such weather, the grandparents who often come to the temple did not appear.

The monks have nothing to do.

On such a leisurely day, I should have left at noon, but I don't know why I didn't leave that day.

I often think that if I leave that day, will the days in the future be easier.

But time goes and never returns, there is no if in the world.

While the monks were chanting scriptures, I sat alone in the merit hall.

In came a skinny man with sunken eyes and prominent cheekbones.

His skin is very fair, but his whole body looks dark. He has long withered and yellow hair tied low behind his head with a rubber band, and there is no look in his eyes.

I can't tell how old he is.

He looked around for a week, as if he didn't notice me at all, and then started from the first grid on the east, looking from top to bottom.

He was looking for a person, but he didn't know the person's number, so he looked at the grid one by one.

After looking at the entire wall on the east side, he became impatient and tapped the ground with his feet.

The dim afternoon has already made people very impetuous, and the movement he made made me even more upset.

"How do you do, sir, here is the list in alphabetical order, and you can find it here."

He came over to me and said thank you in a hoarse voice.

I watched him turn to the page with the surname Li, and then close the roster.

He walked to the north side, facing the widest wall, paced slowly to the right, and finally squatted down with his legs apart.

That's where I stop most often.

In the grid parallel to his line of sight, there is the ashes of the police uncle, and all the glory of his life.

The clouds are getting denser, the light is getting more and more dizzy, and amidst the thunder, raindrops are falling.

There is only the noise of rain in the world, and I can no longer hear the sound of monks chanting sutras in the hall.

He has been squatting on the ground.

Uneasy emotions made my mouth dry, and there was a voice in my head reminding me that you should not approach him.

But I can't control my body.

I walked towards him slowly.

"Sir, do you know Officer Li?" I handed him a futon.

He took the futon blankly and knelt down under my gaze.

"gentlemen?"

He started banging his head on the marble tiles frantically, saying "sorry" over and over again.

The sound of solid knocking echoed in the hall.

I pulled him up, pressed his arms and continued to comfort him, "Sir, calm down."

His forehead was red and swollen, and his eyes were burning with madness.

He didn't notice my existence until the fire was burnt out, and murmured, "I killed him. I killed him."

My hands react faster than my brain.

They left his body immediately.

I stood in front of him, my mind blank.

I looked at him and saw the glassy eyes, the drooping eyelids, the blue cheeks, the bony bones.

I stared at him for a long time.

I don't know how I walked back to the service desk, and when I woke up, in the blink of an eye, his face could emerge in the darkness.

Lightning lit up the sunless afternoon.

It was a long, long time before the sound of thunder reached my ears.

"You do drugs, don't you?"

He didn't answer.

"That day you took drugs and drove on the road. Police officer Li stopped you. He asked you to undergo an alcohol test. You didn't get out of the car. His upper body was still leaning in the car. You stepped on the accelerator. You drove It was a sports car and you dragged him for a long way until you threw him out. Do you remember how he yelled to stop?"

His body began to tremble continuously.

I clenched my fist and dug my nails into my palm.

"Zou Yi'an, your name sounds nice. But you don't deserve it." I put the roster on the counter into a drawer, "Are you wondering who I am?"

He stared at me intently.

"I am the son of Officer Li that you killed."

"It's raining so hard." The monk in yellow robes ran in and put away his blue checked folding umbrella.

He didn't see Zou Yi'an in the corner, and walked towards me, "Ren Ke, you should leave as soon as the rain stops. The weather forecast says there will be heavy rain at night."

The monk turned around in shock from the sound of "dong", and Zou Yi'an knelt on the ground.

He said to me, "I'm sorry."

The monk saluted him with his palms up, and then wanted to help him up. Zou Yi'an knelt, and the two of them stood deadlocked in front of the policeman's uncle's ashes.

"Get up. Don't come again."

White water poured down the eaves.

Hit it on the doorstep.

The stone is a stone from a hundred years ago, and the surface has been sunken by years of rain.

I was alone and walked into the rain curtain.

The monk called my name.

"Ren Ke! Umbrella! Bring your umbrella!"

I didn't look back, got on the bike and left.

According to the weather forecast, this is the first typhoon that Tongcheng has encountered this summer.

It was raining like a waterfall, and I couldn't open my eyes at all. Fortunately, there are non-motorized roads all the way.I held the handlebar with one hand and kept wiping the rain off my face with the other.

I know I'm not crying.

I should be sad, I should be angry, I should vent my emotions in the rain.

but I do not have.

Li Guoan's son will not cry like a little girl.

When I got home that day, I took a long soak in the bathtub.

There was nothing in my mind.

The hot water burned my skin red, and only then did I feel the pain—

Perceivable, yet ignorable pain.

From the flesh, into the pain of the soul

After taking a shower, I went to do my homework.

I feel that I am in a good state. I did a math paper very smoothly. I corrected the answers and found that I only scored 160 points for the 90-point paper, and half of the 14 fill-in-the-blank questions were wrong.

I hesitated whether to find a photocopy and redo it or not to worry about it, and finally I decided to hand it over to the teacher.

Anyway, no teacher will carefully check the summer homework.

When I was lying on the bed, a kind of boundless despair enveloped my heart.

I hate my emotionally closed self.

I hate my cowardly and infinitely humble self.

Hate yourself for being powerless.

This feeling even surpassed the hatred for Zou Yi'an.

That night, I started having weird dreams again.

The tragedy at the age of six was reproduced in an extremely real way. I smelled a strong smell of blood and sweat, and the police uncle's hand was on the back of my head.

The last second, I was still hugged in my arms, and suddenly, I was riding my mountain bike, driving against the wind, struggling to chase Zou Yi'an's sports car, and I could only see half of the police uncle's back, He yelled "Stop" in pain, but the car kept going, kept going.

I followed the blood on the road and stepped on the pedal desperately until the police uncle was thrown to the ground.

Zou Yian knelt in front of me and said sorry.

I woke up, but the haggard, sick, and dilapidated face was still in front of my eyes.

Sorry is it helpful?

Li Guoan is dead.

There is no longer a man who I call "Daddy" or "Uncle Policeman" in this world.

He turned into dust and was placed in a jar, and he could no longer teach me how to fight hand in hand.

I will never be praised or reprimanded by him again.

People are dead, so what's the use of being sorry.