The Buddha under the bodhi tree, looking at the reincarnation of ashes through the mirror, called me.
"Come back, you haven't reached nirvana, and you have to go back to the original road in the end." I looked back at the pink Xiaoxiang Pavilion. In the cold moonlight, my wings are messy. Daiyu shed tears on the bamboo slips and whispered, "Flowers are blooming everywhere." Listen to my Buddha when you leave: "Flowers fall on the bodhi tree."
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Thousands of years ago, the stone left by Nu Wa was lying in the condensed dew. My Buddha took me out of the forest and asked me to find my ancestors of wood and stone before it became a treasure.
After 500 years of reincarnation, colorful stones, a shrewd bodhi tree, shine in the darkness of the baking building. With its calm face like water, it is covered with pure and pious agility and tearful eyes, bringing together the Millennium Xiaoxiang water and the Millennium sea dew.
After another 500 years of reincarnation, the wind, frost and sword shadows in the world are getting closer and closer, and the cleanliness is unbearable, and eventually they will be involved in the tender gold and drizzle jade. Completely and painfully degenerate.
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And I, just a jade butterfly with transparent wings, want to stay in the drizzle and surround my beloved peach blossom like everyone else in the valley. Dreaming of a calm stream and a beautiful pet smile.
Since I entered this fairy forest, where color is empty and empty is color, I have been sitting alone at the edge of the Heavenly Palace for a long time. Through the crimson bead curtain and the lonely and cold cloud, I looked at the lady wearing the golden hairpin, and then spread my wings, stretching my wings, enchanting moonlight, dancing butterfly shadows falling on the ground, covering those people's tears with the color of flowers.
I mean the other side of the sea Go ahead and bring our stones back in 500 years.
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Looking down, the sea is a drop of water. How much suffering you have to experience and how many disasters you have created in this world.
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After crossing the ocean, I fell in love with the earthly world, which is as fragrant as an orchid. Mountains and rivers all over the world, hexagonal rhyme, almost transparent moon. Different colors, different spaces.
The game played the dream of the West Lake, the width of Dongting and the width of Emei, and finally I reached the foot of Qinggui Mountain. When the world is cold, there are people full of poetry, ceremonies and tassels everywhere. Even at the foot of this distant horizon, it is already prosperous. At the peak of the Green Rose, the colorful stone lost for 900 years is lying quietly, desperately absorbing the essence of Nirvana's years of watering.
I'm here to take you back. I looked at the west devoutly, then bowed my head and said to it.
I saw it breathing slightly, and its trance-like eyes revealed a premonition of uneasiness.
It says it can perceive the emotional factors between heaven and earth.
Ridiculous. I can't let it argue. I have sprinkled anesthetic dew made of bodhi tree on it, sucked it into the mirror bottle, prevented it from continuing to practice, and completed the task of bringing it back within 500 years.
However, vaguely, just before it was imprisoned, I heard its aftersound: I am not sure about my future wishes, and it frequently added a sadness.
When bored, close your forehead and go back several times.
Who cares about romantic affairs?
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Under the moon, over 400 years have passed. Occasionally I heard it clearly, but finally I got lost in the noise. Those street rouge are more like my favorite color. I followed a woman as beautiful as a hibiscus, smelling the fragrance that followed all the way, and entered the house called Grand View Garden.
In the circle beside the pier of Liuhualou, birds startled the trees, and all kinds of flower shadows were scattered among the cloisters, floating in the air like fairies. The decorations are bright and colorful, and the musk orchids are rich. In confusion, clothes are moving; Sparse, flying clouds chasing water. Turn to heaven and look back at Wang Qiang.
In the southeast, there is a peach blossom forest. The gentle east wind blows my delicate wings. I stop at the flower branch and see a refined woman in plain clothes sighing on the railing. The setting sun shines on the empty moss courtyard, and the word "Xiaoxiang Pavilion" shines brightly among thousands of peach blossoms wrapped in fog and smoke.
After sighing frequently, she went out like a pear flower with rain. The gaunt petals blown off by the wind covered her thin and pale robe, moved slightly with lotus steps, squatted down with tears and picked up the fallen flowers on the ground.
How pity the daughter of spring dusk.
She buried the fallen flowers with pure land, which is the purity and truth of logs.
Unfortunately, the wood of a thousand years ago has faded, and now I am the only one carrying the clang of this stone.
Alas, I sighed softly. Ever since I crossed the ocean and fell into this world, I have known her fate.
The log is sad.
I turned around and spread my wings.
My Buddha! You said that 500 years later, there are no logs in the world. Why, when I flew away from this woman, I heard a voice called creation, which was so powerful that it landed on my wings. Why can't I beat the log that yearns for Xiang Qiu for 500 years? My Buddha, tell me quickly.
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In another garden, embroidered ribbons are fluttering and flowers are in full bloom. Many girls are dressed up with shame and jealousy, talking about why Baoyu celebrated his birthday.
Baoyu?
The name of the vulgarized elf. Ten thousand years' stone is better than this moment's jade.
Sadness and loneliness.
How can the brilliance of jade be comparable to the truth of the log just now?
I was just about to leave in a fit of pique when a woman came, smiling like a peach in spring, with green buns piled with clouds and long skirts dancing in the snow, with a proper expression of anger and joy. She took out a round fan from her sleeve and gently fanned it at me. Breathing carefully is fun. I remembered the time when I played with everyone, but I forgot Sanskrit. I went up and down with her and I played with her. By the river, she crept and smiled.
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Before returning to the sea, the shallow sea was already a piece of Wang Yang.
My Buddha, how much suffering has happened in this ten million drops of water? Those sad songs that make people feel deeply sad or painful are not just ...
I'm surprised.
Suddenly, a wave of fear came to my mind. I closed my wings and turned my head. All the sorrows of past lives are at this moment.
I must have dropped the mirror bottle when I was playing with that woman just now, otherwise there wouldn't be so much sad water in the sea. I cried to the west, and though I cried, I couldn't go back to see my Buddha.
In the dim eyes, I saw the peach blossoms of logs in the twilight. Who says tears dry easily? I shed tears, I flatter myself.
Whether the Buddha under the bodhi tree, with its fiery red color, knocked me into an irreparable prophecy in a cuckoo's cry.
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When I returned to Xiaoxiang Pavilion again, it was already desolate. Daguanlou is a masked festival, and everyone is rumored that marriage is good.
Under the red lantern, someone in Xiaoxiang Pavilion was talking to the log girl: "Daiyu, you are weak. Pay more attention and take good care of yourself these days. So as to participate in the wedding activities of Baoyu and Baochai. " In another place, a person with a halo of hallucinations, lying on a big jade, said angrily, "The good marriage you mentioned, I know it is a marriage of wood and stone." It is too late. It is too late.
In Brahma, my Buddha told me, "Come back, and you will go back to the original road in the end to achieve nirvana."
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Moonlight is sad.
I struggled to flap my wings, but when I was exhausted, I couldn't see the Buddha's light in the Bodhi jungle.
The sea rose, and the butterfly finally couldn't fly over the sea it spilled.
I feel my body falling in the moonlight. I heard the log woman named Daiyu say, "I don't know when flowers fall and people die."
On the other side of the sea, the Buddha said, "All the golden Yushu trees make flowers fall on the bodhi tree."
Look at this.