Nanhuaguan east of Luoyang City is said to be the place where Zhuang Zhou received the Heavenly Book of Laozi. When Zhuangzi was granted the title of Nanhua during the Minghuang period of the Tang Dynasty, he issued an edict to build it. It was once a holy place in Henan Daomen, and the incense was very popular.

A hundred years have passed, and the prosperity here has become cold smoke, leaving only broken walls and ruins all over the ground, as well as ragged men and women.

Zeng Baohua raised his head and used all his eyes to see that the air was everywhere. The building with white clouds and cage dogs could be seen on the roof was once the Sanqing Hall of Nanhua Temple.

There were two groups of people sitting in the hall, and there were two slightly higher walls on the left, leaning against thirty or forty people, with seventeen or eighteen broken tiles on their heads, but it was very comfortable, as if living in a carved railing and jade. Judging from the appearance, it was probably a local beggar. Hundreds of people were squeezed on the right, extending from the hall to the steps and the courtyard, without a single place.

It was already September autumn, with dusk and deep coolness. These refugees who came from nowhere were crowded with people, no matter whether they were men, women, old or young, and did not care about shame or taboos. They were like birds in heavy snowy days, keeping warm with each other by their temperature.

The sky gradually became dark, and the beggars put a large pottery basin that had been broken five or six places on several stones, poured the collected food into it, and then put it in the leaves and bark, as well as a large pile of unknown wild grass and wild vegetables.

The firewood started to burn, and the red light was beating on everyone's faces. The beggars were full of joy, glad that they had food and could survive another day. The refugees were all staring blankly, and those eyes could hardly see any vitality.

A sour and sour smell floated in the Sanqing Hall and filled the entire Nanhuaguan. The smell was like food that had been spoiled for several days in summer and then put it in the pot for heating, which was really hard to describe.

But the beggars' eyes shone, holding the guys who were eating, lined up to go forward, divided the food, and then hid in a corner, regardless of the heat, swallowed it in a few bites. After eating, they were still unsatisfied, as if they had eaten the most delicious food in the world, which required a long time to reminisce.

The refugees watched silently, and they took a few breaths to make their bodies even more hunched. The night wind was blowing, and the remaining bare and skinned trees in the courtyard were swaying with the wind, and they tried their best, but they could not make a rustling sound.

"When you meet the yellow bird, you stop at the thorn. Who follows the Duke Mu? The chariot of the son is dying. The one who keeps this dying is the specialty of a centurion. When you are in the cave, you are dying. The heavens of the heavens are annihilated to our good men! If you can redeem yourself, you will be a hundred people!"

A shrill voice sounded in the twilight, like the shaking sunset, in panic, like a deeply wounded beast wailing before death.

"Which thief is called the soul?" The man who looked like a leader among the beggars shouted in dissatisfaction.

"Forget it, forget it, don't know whether they can live until tomorrow. Don't you allow them to call me a few times before they die?" An old beggar with gray hair persuaded.

The courtyard fell into silence again.

"Brother Hua, how is this singing? It's so miserable?" Yang Chongyi asked with his neck shrank.

"I sang the "Yellow Bird" in the Book of Songs. "Zuo Zhuan·The Sixth Year of Wengong" records: "Qin Boren is a good soldier, and he regards his son Che's third son, Yanxi, Zhongxing, and Needhu as a sacrifice, all of which are good things of Qin. The people of the country mourned him and wrote "Yellow Bird" for him. It is a poem that mourned the dead in the pre-Qin period, so he is so sad. I just don't know who this person is thinking of burying him for."

After hearing Zeng Baohua's words, Yan Xiaoliu, Yang Chongyi, Xia Jinzhong, and Dai Chengen nodded only with care, as if they understood everything.

"Brother is also a scholar." A refugee man lying half lying next to him spoke. His long hair covered his face and could not see his face clearly.

"I have been to a private school for a few days." Zeng Baohua answered simply.

"This singer is also a scholar, Mr. Wen. It is said that he was the chief minister of Xiangzhou. In February, Hebei was in chaos. He abandoned his official position for some reason and fled from Xiangzhou with his family. He was in trouble all over the country. Along the way, his parents, wives and daughters died and scattered. He went through a lot of hardships to cross the river with his only six-year-old son. Thinking that when he approached Shendu, there should be a way to survive. He never thought that the child would disappear after turning around. After searching for a long time, he found half a piece of child's torn clothes next to a big pot. Now he was afraid that everyone in the world would be buried with him."

"Yes, Mr. Wen is really a bad fate. He actually encountered a thief." Xia Jinzhong cursed angrily.

"You have encountered it too?" the long-haired man turned his head and asked.

"I have encountered many thieves along the way, and I have tried to cook us a few times. I have not asked about the sticks in our hands when I get into the thief's pickled goods." Xia Jinzhong snorted with a nose.

The long-haired man's eyes lingered into a ball, hanging down on the hair on his face, and looked up and down at the five people sitting next to him.

These five people are sixteen or seventeen years old, but they are very strong, and they are almost neat. Inside their tattered outer shirts, they can be seen wearing short slings. Each of them has a stick with a stick with a short knife hidden around their waists. The man in the lead has a wide forehead, an eagle nose, a sword eyebrows are in the clouds, and his eyes are like stars in the sky.

The moon rose, and silver light spread all over every corner of Nanhuaguan, as if a layer of thin snow was covered, making the silent night colder. The chirping of crickets seemed more sad and hysterical in the moonlight. The refugees continued to remain silent, as if they had died silently in the darkness.

The sound of silk and bamboo floated from somewhere, and the singing of the singer, floating and vaguely, like the spider web silk swaying and flying on the corners of the eaves of the courtyard in the dark night.

The beggars on the Sanqing Hall were all aroused by the sound and started to make noise. They were noisy and quarrels, and there was a lot of fun, with the laughter of women in the middle.

"Come on, sing a song for me. I sing well. I will give you a bite of it.

"The face is upright, the heart is sharp and handsome. The eyebrows are long, the eyes are penetrated into the temples. The nose is rumbling, the mouth is small, the tongue is fragrant and soft. The ears are rosy. The neck is like jade, the hair is like clouds. The eyebrows are like peeling, the hands are like spring bamboo shoots. The milk is sweet, the waist is thin, and the feet are tight. Don't ask about those."

"Okay! Let's have another song!" The beggars cheered in unison, more imposing than the rich men in the brothel.

"Meng Jiangnu and Qi Liang's wife, even if they go to Yanshan, they will never return. They have made cold clothes and no one to send them away, so they will inevitably send their own clothes. It is really difficult to walk on the road of Bianliang. It is snowing in Zhongtiao Mountain. I eat wine just to save my meals. I wish I can return to my health early. I stand in front of the hall and say goodbye to my mother. I don't realize that tears flow in my eyes. I advise you, my mother, to look sad..."

After singing, the woman choked hoarsely and finally choked speechlessly.

"It's so unlucky! Take it, take it! Take the remaining food!" It seemed that the beggar leader was speaking.

Half an hour passed, and the little food I ate in the evening could only last until this time. The beggars' voices slowly faded, as if they were suppressed by the moon hanging in the middle. In the end, the moon hid in the clouds with disgust, and the whole world fell into a dark gray. There were many people in the Nanhua Temple, and hundreds of people gathered together, but they were not angry, as if a hundred ghosts were walking on the night.

"I can't stay in this ghost place. It's so fucking creepy! It's like a bird in the underworld of Fengdu." Xia Jinzhong shrank his neck and muttered.

"Who wants to stay here? But we are so poor that we are like them. We can't even get into Luoyang City even if we want to." Yang Chongyi replied in a low voice.

"I'm a thief. Even if I go to the city, I have to pay my mother's tax on entering the city. The emperor's feet are like a bird!" Dai Chengen muttered.

"You guys are yelling! Brother Hua is asleep. Do you want to wake him up?" Yan Xiaoyi kicked each of them and scolded in a low voice.

The three of them didn't say anything.

Zeng Baohua lay on the ground with his back to them. The cold chill surrounded the ground and from all directions, wrapping him tightly. The biting chill made him unable to sleep. He stared at the middle of the Sanqing Hall, and Zeng Baohua was thinking a lot. It took three or four months before he touched the edge of Luoyang City. He was about to accomplish something, but he had no money to pay the city gate tax and could not get in.

This time, I came down from Taihang Mountain and it was not smooth. I used to go down the mountain to do business without capital, but although there were twists and turns, it was still smooth. This time I became a good man in business, but the result was a bumpy journey. The riots who did not leave any living, the bandits who wanted money and died, the village soldiers who were brutally ate... one after another. It seems that in this world, it is difficult for a good man to do strong people.

In front of Zeng Baohua, there were three statues of the Three Pure Land in the middle of the hall, but only half of them were left, which were in ruins and looked particularly ferocious in the darkness. If the real person of Nanhua knew that his temple had become a filthy land, would a divine thunder be lowered and burned the place clean?
Chapter completed!