There is a small hill next to the Li family village, and halfway up the hill there is a small temple. The small temple is said to have a history of several hundred years. There was an old monk in the temple who was the head of the temple and the only monk in the temple, and his name was Puzhao. When the year is good, people from nearby villages will come to burn incense on New Year's Eve to worship, but the last two years of successive grain failures, to the mountain to burn incense less people, so the old monk went down to the mountain to make money, and returned to bring back a seven or eight year old child, the old monk gave him the name of Qingyin. From then on, there was a second monk in the small temple.
The little monk Qingyin is very good, after school to help the master wash water, cleaning the courtyard, and sometimes to the village and the villagers down the hill to exchange some food. As the people in the village got to know him, some of them gradually started talking to him, inquiring about his background and why he had followed his master to become a young monk, but he never just smiled and did not answer.
The peaceful life in the countryside was like a small stream in the mountains, day after day, without feeling the passage of time. Nine years passed, and the young monk Qing Yin grew into a young man with a clear face and clear, compassionate eyes.
One day, a rare visitor came to the temple, a woman from the city. The woman was in her mid-twenties, with a bit of the flavor of the moonshine scene, with long thin eyebrows, red lips, a low bun, and a few strands of broken hair scattered around her cheeks, curling like waves. She was wearing a dark green cheongsam, the flattering cut hugging her shapely and beautiful figure. Qing Yin saw her shoes, with a high heel of dark green satin and a few sparkling pearls dangling from the front.
"How did she climb half ...... the mountain with such shoes," was Qing Yin's first impression of her. That day at noon, Qing Yin was sweeping the leaves in the garden, suddenly heard a crisp and strange footsteps coming from the doorway, he turned around to see this woman pinching a strip of rice paddy in one hand to hold up the door frame, and gently lifting the hem of her skirt with one hand to cross into the temple door. When the woman saw Qing Yin, she walked up to him and asked him with a slight pant, "Young master, may I ask if the presiding master is here?"
Qing Yin saw that fine beads of sweat covered the tip of her nose, and her nostrils flared slightly. There was a vague scent emanating from her, Qing Yin sniffed and inexplicably felt that the scent seemed to have some kind of déjà vu.
"Master, what is it that this cultivator has come to ask for?" After the woman left that evening, Qing Yin asked her master with some curiosity.
"She is the same as you were in the beginning, the whole cloudy world is floating, come here, but seek peace of mind."
Qing Yin stopped asking. Turbid Floating Weeds, Master's words made him feel a sense of mutual admiration for this woman who was the same as he was at the end of the world.
After that the woman came every few months. Sometimes she would offer incense and seek enlightenment from the old monk, and when the old monk went out, she would kneel respectfully on a futon and gaze at the Bodhisattva statue. At first, she would just nod her head slightly when she saw Qingyin, but then she came more often and gradually became familiar with her. One day the woman came down the mountain at the same time as the old monk, she finished burning incense, turned around and saw Qingyin sitting on the veranda reading the Buddhist scriptures, hesitated for a moment, then walked over and sat down next to Qingyin.
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"Young master, I heard your master say that your Dharma name is Qing Yin."
"Oh, yes."
"My name is Zhao Qingli, and I also have the character Qing in my name. (Qing Yin said nothing and smiled politely and easily.)
"It's so nice here, it's the only place where I can breathe a little."
"Little Master Qing Yin, what are you looking at?" "The Prajna Heart Sutra."
"Will you recite it for me?" "Yes. When Guan Zi Zai Bodhisattva practiced the Deep Prajna (pronunciation of Prajna: bo1re3, "Bojak") Paramitra, he saw that the five skandhas were all empty, and he eliminated all suffering and doom. ......"
From then on, the woman named Zhao Qingli would chat with Qing Yin every time she came, but most of the time she would listen to him recite the sutras. Qing Yin was sometimes a little curious: "This woman looks like a red dust person, why would she want to listen to Buddhist scriptures?
From Zhao Qingli's mouth, Qingyin learned about the outside world and Zhao Qingli's life. Zhao Qingli's family lived in Wen City, which was the largest city for a hundred miles. Her family was quite well-off when she was a child, and her father worked with others to run a small shop. When Zhao Qingli was in middle school, her father's business partner ran off with the money, leaving them with a huge debt. Her father sold the shop and all the goods, but he still couldn't pay the debt, and the whole family was plunged into a huge financial crisis. Zhao Qingli was 16 years old at that time, she dropped out of high school and entered the pleasure grounds of Wencheng, with a good education and some small literary talent, so she was courted by some gentlemen. Her father was angry with her for corrupting the family and broke off his relationship with her, so she quietly slipped money to her mother to supplement the family's income and pay for her younger siblings' education.
When Zhao Qingli lightheartedly told Qingyin about these past events, Qingyin felt a little sorry for her, "How could your father treat you like this? You chose this for the sake of your family, could it be that a fake name is more important than the lives of your entire family?"
Zhao Qing Li laughed lightly and said, "My father has some pride in his bones, I guess he doesn't have the courage to accept his daughter helping him like this, I don't blame him.
The afternoon sunlight pierced through the gaps between the leaves of the old lime tree in the courtyard and fell in stars. Only then did Qing Yin notice that Zhao Qingli had not applied any powder today, and her hair was simply pulled back behind her head. Under the sunlight, the fine, fluffy hair on her face emitted a faint golden glow. She tilted her head and squinted slightly at the lime leaves, her pupils light brown and crystal clear.