Song Shaoyan sat silently in this small space, looking at everything in the drawer with his eyes.

"Mr. Song, the noodles are ready." Xiaoduo brought the noodles up and said, "Eat while it's hot."

"Let this go."

"good."

Soon, the smell in the room was covered with the fragrance of egg noodles and steamed.

Song Shaoyan brought the bowl over and tasted the freshly prepared noodles.

After taking a bite, it tasted OK, but I always felt something was wrong.

Halfway through the meal, he couldn't eat it anymore, so he put down the bowl and sat still silently.

The wind outside the window was whistling, and a thin layer of water mist formed on the window, hazy and unsightly, the scene outside could not be seen clearly. The world was only as big as a room, and there was nothing else.

Early winter is bitter and cold is everywhere.

...

There is a thousand-year-old temple in Huacheng, Baohua Temple.

The wars and natural disasters in the past have caused Baohua Temple to be rebuilt many times, and it has been built today to be as it is now. It has excellent construction and tranquility and tranquility.

This is not the largest temple. There are not many pilgrims and do not cover much area, but it is very peaceful away from the city center.

Song Shaoyan has been here many times, and he thought it through clearly. Since he has no desires or desires, it is better to convert to Buddhism and seek peace of mind for the rest of his life.

He did not intend to become a monk directly and convert to Buddhism. In the future, he would let go of everything in the past world and material desires.

Song Shaoyan has been to Baohua Temple many times, especially the year he came to Huacheng after the accident. He spent a long time at Baohua Temple, but he still had something to ask for at that time and never converted to Buddhism.

Now, I can see everything out of the way.

Today, he came here again.

The cold wind was bitter, and a gust of wind teared on his face like a knife, cutting people's skin hurt in an instant.

He only asked the driver to take him to the door and entered Baohua Temple alone.

He wore a black windbreaker, solemn and solemn.

It was too quiet here. No one swept the ginkgo leaves on the ground. They were covered with a thick layer. When the wind blew, they flew like butterflies, lingering and affectionate.

There were several monks working, without pilgrims, and the air was filled with incense.

Bells are hung at the eaves of the temple, and "dang" sounds are made from time to time. The sound is ethereal and lonely, and can be heard far and far away.

The sound of Song Shaoyan's wheelchair rubbing the ground was clearly heard. He held his breath and focused his eyes, his eyes were far and deep, as calm as the water of an ancient well, and his luster was quiet.

He made an appointment with the abbot, Master Yichan.

When she arrived at a carved wooden door, Song Shaoyan entered and saw the statue of the Buddha with a solemn appearance at first sight. Song Shaoyan bowed devoutly.

There is a sound of a young monk chanting scriptures in the temple, which is constantly filled with the sound of ringing the bell.

It was early one morning, and the temple had just recovered from the night, and the morning dew had not yet dried, and it was quiet and peaceful.

Song Shaoyan did not go to the abbot immediately. He closed his eyes silently and his heart was extremely quiet. This was a rare kind of quietness, far away from the hustle and treacherous, everything in the past and everything in the future had nothing to do with him.

This is probably from one world to another, the balance point between life and death in his eyes.

Song Shaoyan closed his eyes and listened to various sounds in the temple. This was different from the lively world outside. Here, he could gain more peace and peace in his heart, and probably could regain his true self.

Fireworks are lingering, the sky is gray, and the white mist brings the unique coldness of winter.
Chapter completed!