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Shen Shizheng.
The sound of horses' hooves was like thunder, and they hurried through the mud.
Zhao Wujiang pulled the reins and slowed down.
He has arrived at Lanlin City.
There are many ancient temples in the deserted mountains in Lanlin City. Although there are few people around, the sky and the earth in all directions seem to be covered with a layer of gray mist, and the mist is mixed with the smell of incense and candles.
Big raindrops hit the bamboo hat and coir raincoat, and the water droplets scattered into mist.
In addition, the unitary hour is approaching, the heavy rain will not stop, and the sky will become darker and darker, just like the night.
Zhao Wujiang held up his bamboo hat, narrowed his eyes slightly, and looked around. The water mist between the sky and the earth was like a green smoke, with faint traces of strange light blue color.
It's like coming to a deserted village and tombs, and stepping into the ghost world of a Chinese fairy tale.
Maybe it's because the ancient temples are scattered in twos and threes... Zhao Wujiang breathed a sigh of relief, the golden light flowing in his eyes, and his aura gradually became as fierce as the sun.
Temples have always been a very magical and strange thing in Zhao Wujiang's heart.
Previously, as a staunch materialist, he was responsible for the nine-year compulsory education and was the successor of Islamism. Although he was not superstitious, he still had a more or less respectful attitude toward ghosts and gods.
And temples, in his opinion, are places where ghosts and gods gather.
Gods and Buddhas during the day, ghosts and monsters at night.
So he sometimes went to burn incense and worship Buddha. When he went there during the day, he was mostly cautious, but without fear or fear.
But when it was dark, the hall full of Bodhisattvas and Arhats seemed to have lost their majestic appearance, and the golden bodies seemed to be peeping in the darkness.
More spooky and weird.
Under the pouring rain, the sound of chanting sutras and ringing bells could not be heard.
Zhao Wujiang followed the route on the map, winding east and west in Lanlin City, and finally found Lanruo Temple in the black sky.
He turned over and dismounted, leading the horse on the muddy path, looking at the slightly dilapidated and gloomy ancient temple in front of him.
There are overgrown weeds all around, covering more than half a foot of horseshoes. The ancient temple stands under the dark sky, with the sound of raindrops and the faint sound of monks chanting sutras.
The horse neighed and stamped its feet, as if there was something in Lanruo Temple that made it afraid.
"You can't stay in the rain all the time, right?" Zhao Wujiang rubbed the horse's head. The horse's bangs became more messy and it snorted loudly when it woke up.
"Don't be afraid." Zhao Wujiang gently pulled the reins again. The horse was reluctant to move its hooves. He smiled gently:
"Is it possible that there is an ancient well in the ancient temple? Isn't it beautiful that there is a Chu person in the well?
This is Lanruo Temple. Even if there are ghosts in Lanruo Temple, they are like Nie Xiaoqian.
The white sleeves are fluttering, and the appearance is stunning. As long as you are brave...it's not impossible..."
The horse didn't understand what Zhao Wujiang was saying at all, and his face grew long.
Zhao Wujiang came to the temple door and knocked gently. The sound was dull in the rain, startling the crows in the surrounding woods.
After a while, footsteps approached, the door latch sounded softly, and the red-painted door was opened.
Standing inside the door was a young novice monk in gray-blue monk robes, holding a bronze oil lamp. The light was weak and swaying slightly.
The little monk wondered:
"donor?"
“The rain is unpredictable and getting heavier and heavier.
Now that night is approaching, I am passing by Guibao Temple and want to stay for a day or two. I wonder if the young master can make it convenient. "
Zhao Wujiang smiled warmly, which made people feel good. Without waiting for the young monk's answer, he gently opened the door, led the horse and walked in:
"Thank you, little master, for your compassion. Buddha bless you."
The little monk scratched his head. His hard, black hair was covered with tiny water droplets.
"Donor...donor, left, left." His thoughts and movements seemed to slow down a beat, and when he came to his senses, he quickly placed the door latch, blocked the flickering candlelight in the raindrops with his hand, and followed quickly.
He had some doubts in his heart.
In the past, the pilgrims were all simple and honest people from the neighborhood. Why did two donors with extraordinary temperaments come one after another today?
A young Taoist priest wearing a Taoist robe, and another wearing a raincoat and a bamboo hat, leading a horse like a scholar on a study tour.
