The wind blew the treetops in the distance, the pond nearby was crystal clear, and the sky and earth were bright and pure. In a small room, an old man in white clothes was sitting in meditation with his eyes closed.
The Lord of Xihuang looked around everything. Is this in that person's soul?
"Who are you?" she asked from a distance.
The old man opened his eyes, with a slight smile on his face because he was relaxed: "To be honest, I don't know who I am."
Teresa was angry. The appearance of the eight-year-old girl could no longer be maintained, and the sunset yellow color containing the remnants of various nightmares roared around her body.
"Let me leave!" The Lord of Xihuang knew that she was imprisoned in a closed world, and she didn't want to be collected by anyone like this.
Amidst the high-pressure roar, various bizarre scenes scorched the air, leaving scenes of shocking patterns in the space. The Lord of Xihuang frantically released his pure pain in this world. Those pains come from the soul scum of the deserted station, from the endless lost years, from the resentment of being deceived and framed, from the anxiety of losing oneself...
She is now in that person's soul, and she wants to explode that soul, and then shatter the small world that imprisons her...
Everything around her was destroyed because of her rage. Trees fell, vegetation was scorched, lake water boiled, and the house where the old man lived was also smashed into pieces. The old man in white clothes just sat with his eyes closed, as if he was blowing the wind.
"Death!" Teresa's eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets, which made her whole face distorted. Xihuang's thunder turned into an evil dragon, roaring and swallowing up the old man.
After the roar, the old man still sat there with his clothes intact, as if he was just a phantom in time and space.
Teresa gasped and stared at him.
"You are indeed angry." The old man opened his eyes.
She wanted to continue the attack, but she found that she was actually tired. It’s not physical tiredness, but another kind of tiredness: a kind of tiredness that doesn’t want to raise your hands anymore. One is too tired to say one more word.
"I want to ask you a question, and I hope you can answer it." The old man said.
Teresa turned her back to him. She could enter here, but found that she could not get out of her own volition. She could only stand like this.
After an unknown amount of time, the surrounding burned vegetation grew back, the burned ponds had water again, and the destroyed houses were rebuilt. It rains in spring, snow falls on my shoulders in winter, and my shoes are buried in fallen leaves in autumn. She just stood there.
Time in the soul can be stretched infinitely. After investing in a gap of one second, I realized that there seemed to be a whole world contained in it.
When a fallen leaf hit her head again, Teresa felt the last drop of water flow to the ground, so she turned around.
"Can I ask a question?" He put down the tea cup. It turned out that he had been waiting.
Teresa didn't answer.
He said, "You seem to understand pain very well. The question I want to ask you is: What is pain?"
She was silent for a while, but she didn't expect that she would actually answer his question: "What else could it be? Of course it's the thing you least want. It's all the things you least want, constantly forced on you.
"It's about losing what you want most. As long as you think about it, what you want will leave you."
"It's loneliness! It's the soul that has been tormented over and over again but can't find an outlet. It's the fear that can't be endured all day long, and there's no way to die. It's anger. I don't even bother to be angry anymore!"
"Very well, you answered my question. You also proved one thing, you do understand pain.
"But I have more questions in my mind, and I hope you can answer them for me."
"Are there any souls in this world who have never suffered? Are there any souls who can always keep what they want and stay away from people they don't want?"
"Are there people who were born and died alone? Are there people who were born knowing everything? Are there things that never die?"
After listening to this series of questions, Theresa did not answer.
"Silence is also an answer. Your answer is very good." He nodded, "I still want to ask the same question: What is pain?
What? "
Sitting in front of the old man, Theresa fell into a long silence. The sun is setting, everything is dimmed in red, and the returning birds are chirping. She wasn't thinking, because all thinking was like an arrow shot toward nothingness, with no target and no way of knowing where the arrow would eventually go. She even felt that her identity could no longer be maintained. Seventy thousand soul scum, the six betrayed explorers, pure hatred, these things condensed into one personality: the Lord of Xihuang. Teresa. But now these irrefutable evidence seem to be unreliable. Sitting and forgetting. Lose me. Something is dissolving. She felt that her image was melting, and she (he?) almost forgot who she was.
Does it really matter who you are?
He suddenly understood what he meant before: "To be honest, I don't know who I am."
Pain is a sword poking at a target. If you want pain, you must have a target.
If there is no target, the sword is just a piece of iron.
Sitting and forgetting. Lose me. Pain is...?
"Pain is the me who is called pain." She didn't know who was speaking, but she just said the words herself. "Pain does not exist, it is a sum. It is the sum of my unwillingness to accept it. It is a useful reason to hate everything."
Sean was a little surprised, and he stared at the Lord of Sunset. He knew that the more pain he suffered, the stronger his mind's ability to transform, but he didn't expect that the being in front of him could realize this level just by himself.
Every pain is a whipping. In addition to giving rise to emotions and memories, every whipping also creates a kind of sobriety. This wakefulness is so vast and vast, yet so silent and transparent. Like a space filled with flammable gases, it only takes a spark to shake the earth.
"Pain can also be clarity: knowing clearly that I am judging and distinguishing what I want and what I don't want. Knowing clearly that I am actually the joy, anger, sorrow and joy of this moment. Knowing clearly that this world is actually There is no pain - not when a supernova explodes, not when a meteor burns across the sky, not when a black hole burns.
"Pain is the great motivation to wake up from this dream called 'Teresa. It is another kind of happiness."...
The fog lifts and the grotto emerges in the background. They originally sat opposite each other in Shambhala. Put your hands together as if bowing to yourself in the mirror.
The nightmare in the sunset no longer existed, and the colors around her were actually the same as the sky when a tired bird returns to its nest. It is the color of the sunset, the color that forgives everything, the gentleness that covers everything.
When she opened her eyes again, she had returned to the Palace of Sunset Yellow.
