"Brother, do you understand?"
The man shook his head calmly: "No."
The monk touched his head and said, "What a coincidence, even the young monk didn't understand."
"It doesn't matter." The man took a deep breath: "We have a lot of time."
Since then.
The man and the monk lived in an abandoned mansion.
There were dry fields around the mansion that lacked plowing, so the monk worked hard down the mountain to buy seeds, plow the fields, water and fertilize, and his days became more fulfilling.
In front of the court, the man without his legs always sits in front of the court, watching the fallen leaves at dusk and the morning sun and dew.
After he returned home, he seemed to be a different person. He always seemed very quiet. Every evening, a childlike smile would appear on his vicissitudes of life.
I lived in the mansion for two years without knowing it.
The old woman's health was deteriorating. In fact, it had already been so before the man returned home. No wonder there is always a strong smell of herbs in the kitchen.
】
In the winter of the third year, the old woman caught wind and cold and kept coughing.
The sun was setting in the west, snow was falling heavily, and the mansion, which was covered with a thick layer of snow, was tinged with a golden glow in the afterglow of the setting sun. The man walked happily into the snow with crutches, letting the cold snow fall on his face. The icy, moist, melted snow water slid down the corners of his eyes, and he smiled.
"Ahem, Master, you seem to always like to watch the sunset."
The old woman coughed violently. She felt heartbroken when she saw the young master struggling to walk on crutches, but she couldn't help but ask. This question has been lingering in her mind for three years.
"And snow."
The man smiled slightly: "The color of the sunset reminds me of the yellow color of the desert...The heavy snow in the sky reminds me of that mountain. Now, it's all here."
"I really want to meet the young lady."
The young master once mentioned that he got married outside. The wife was very beautiful, with skin as white as snow, lips as red as cherry blossoms, arrows that were flawless, and fists that were very sharp. At this time, Aunt Mei didn't know what "sa" meant. But she could tell that the young master really liked it.
"You will be able to see her when you are healthy. You gave birth to me and raised me since I was a child. You are half a mother to me. When spring comes next year, I will definitely find her back and burn a stick of incense in the ancestral hall to pray to my ancestors. May I have a baby soon, and I will give you a cup of hot elder tea."
"Okay! Young master, you are handsome, and madam, she is pretty. No matter whether I have a boy or a girl, I will be the best among men. The blood of the Gongsun family will not be lost to other families. Ahem. cough--"
Every morning, men have the habit of getting up early to paint.
The monks went out to work and support their families in Hukou. Mei Niang would always fetch water, grind ink, and prepare painting tools for Zheng Xiu in advance. Zheng Xiu always said that Mei Niang was not in good health and should not work too hard. Mei Niang said that she was used to sharpening ink and preparing pens for the master in the past, but these years the master has been gone and he has become unfamiliar, and she is not used to it. Now that the young master is back and someone is painting again, she is very happy and not tired at all. When Mei Niang says this, men can only follow her.
The monk was wearing a raincoat. He went down the mountain to buy some medicine and came back. His face was flushed, as if he had encountered some happy event. "Brother, your paintings sold for a high price today! Someone understands your paintings! The monsters and monsters you painted are evil. The rich businessman said that he likes evil things the most!" As he said this, the monk took out a heavy bag of silver.
"Tsk, people's hearts are impetuous."
The man sneered and put away the money. He knew very well that what he drew was nothing more than bullshit. The monsters and monsters he drew had no eyes. They had only their shapes but no spirit, and were no different from garbage. It's extremely ironic that rich people who don't understand love trash.
After the monk stopped fighting in the past few years, the world was peaceful, and he learned a lot of skills by the way. He is proficient in laundry, cooking, firewood, carpentry, and embroidery. From time to time he would be as innocent as a boy, from time to time he would be as hearty as a bandit, and from time to time he would be as shy as a girl.
Early that morning, Zheng Xiu came to the courtyard. It snowed heavily overnight, turning the branches white and the man's eyebrows white.
When the man saw the empty long table, he was slightly startled, and then he sat down sadly, looking at the sky quietly, waiting for the sun to rise.
This is the first time in three years that he has not painted early in the morning.
Aunt May is dead.
After all, Aunt Mei still didn't survive the cold winter of that year.
She could not wait until the young master and the young lady returned home hand in hand.
She failed to see four generations of the Gongsun family living together.
The monk and the man buried Aunt Mei with their own hands, and solemnly placed her coffin into the ancestral hall of the Gongsun family and worshiped her for seven days.
On the eighth day after Aunt Mei's death, the man personally lit a fire and burned down the mansion.
Since then, the Gongsun family has disappeared from the world forever.
"I want to meet Xiao Tao."
The man watched with his own eyes the fire that burned the ancestral home to ashes. Amidst the ashes flying in the sky, the silent man suddenly said something to the monk.
The monk was stunned for a moment and nodded vigorously: "Okay. She is in the imperial city."
Back then, Xie Yunliu used Bai Xiaosheng's friendship to find a wealthy businessman in the imperial city. The two wealthy businessmen were old and childless, and they treated Xiao Tao as his own daughter.
Now it has been nearly twenty years since we were separated. After Aunt Mei died, the man suddenly remembered that there was an ignorant girl like Mei Niang who polished ink for him regardless of rain or shine. At that time, he was concentrating on painting the Xieluo River.
In the blink of an eye, everyone the man knew in this world left one by one, leaving only the monk by his side.
He still failed to paint the "cannibal painting".
He doesn't know how to draw "heart".
It is not difficult to paint mountains, water, people, people, noisy fireworks, and all kinds of things in the world. Just talking about painting skills, he has already reached the realm of "Gongsun Painting Sage" in the past. But he still couldn't draw a "live" human heart.
The people are still "alive", and he can use thaumaturgy to secretly absorb human souls and concentrate his painting power. But they were dead, and the man didn't know how to paint the dead people vividly and lively in the painting in an alternative way.
He still hasn't been able to grasp this.
Remembering that the only people he knew in the world were Monk and Xiao Tao, the man suddenly had an impulse to meet her.
half year later.
The two of them and the cat walked back and forth until they came to the imperial city.
On the way, the monk looked at the little cat who had not changed in the past ten years and wondered: "Brother, are you a cat who has a longer life?"
"It's not surprising that cats that come back alive from the desert live longer."
Xiaofengmiao proudly bared her teeth at the monk.
The carriage entered the city, and the imperial city was bustling with singing and dancing.
The disability of the man's feet attracted the attention of the people and showed them pity. Men have become accustomed to such prejudice over the years. When passing by Zheng's house, the appearance of Zheng's house was slightly different from that of a hundred years later. He stopped for a moment in front of the door. When the monk asked, the man shook his head: "No need."
When he found the family where Xiao Tao was fostered, the man looked up and couldn't help but be startled.
It's the Jing family.
A hundred years later, his personal maid——Jing Xuemei's family.
"Could it be..."
Such a coincidence made him feel a little inexplicable. After knocking on the door and announcing his intention, an elderly couple came out to greet him. When they pushed the door open, their eyes were full of anger, as if they were seeking justice. However, when they saw the man's trousers swinging emptyly and the two dazzling iron crutches in his hands, the anger in the eyes of the elderly couple dissipated. Sigh:
"You are late."
Hearing this, the man frowned. Just when he was about to ask, the monk said bluntly: "Is Xiaotao married?"
The old man looked complicated and nodded.
The man relaxed his frown and smiled at the monk. The monk understood and bowed his hands in salute for his eldest brother. The man said gently: "We met old friends in the past. We passed by the imperial city and wanted to talk about it. Since it's no coincidence, let's forget it. ”
The elegantly dressed old woman opened her mouth, but didn't say anything. She quietly tugged at her husband's sleeve.
Seeing that the two were about to leave, the old man couldn't help but said: "Please stay!"
The man and the monk turned back.
"Excuse me... what are your surnames?"
The monk first said: "Thank you Yunliu."
The man was silent for a moment: "...Gongsun Mo."
"Gongsun Mo, Gongsun Mo, Gongsun Mo." The couple chanted the name. After struggling several times, the old man finally sighed: "My daughter is always here, please come in."
Mr. and Mrs. Jing brought the two of them into the inner room.
Finally, they came to a row of spiritual tablets.
Xiao Tao's spiritual place is impressively above - "The Spiritual Place of Xiao Tao, the Late Daughter Gongsun Jing's Family"!
Gongsun Jingshi! Gongsun Jingshi! Gongsun Jingshi!
"A few years ago, my little girl learned about the flying star in the desert and that her sweetheart Gongsun Mo was buried in the desert. After that, she was depressed and depressed, eating and talking little. Last year, when she left, she asked the two of us to stand in front of her memorial tablet. Write the surname 'Gongsun'." The Jing family broke down in tears when they said this: "The little girl said that she could not marry Gongsun during her lifetime, and she hopes to be with Gongsun for a long time after her death. After death, we sleep together. This is my daughter’s long-cherished wish.”
"ha……"
"ha……"
"ha……"
The man fell to the ground with a thud, breathing heavily and making strange noises from his hoarse throat.
"ah……"
"ah……"
"all gone……"
"all gone……"
"Everyone...is gone..."
"gone……"
"I'm the only one left..."
…
…
Xiaotao's death was like the straw that broke the camel's back.
He was walking on the street with crutches, wandering like a zombie.
He couldn't draw, couldn't draw, couldn't draw.
"Gongsun Mo."
A neatly dressed old man with a jade ring on his thumb stopped him on the street.
The monk who had been quietly protecting the man behind him was suddenly startled: "National Master!"
The monk had never seen this person before when he was in the army. He always felt that this person was difficult to deal with, and his intuition told him that the imperial master was not an ordinary person. Now they meet again in the imperial city. The imperial master stops his eldest brother, which makes the monk feel suddenly and has a bad premonition.
When the monk was about to step forward, Gongsun Mo and the Imperial Master seemed to be in two different worlds in front of him, getting farther and farther away from him. The hustle and bustle on the street suddenly stopped, and the monk could no longer hear any sound in his ears.
"I'm sorry to disturb you." The old man helped Gongsun Mo, who was stumbling, with a warm smile on his face. He whispered in the man's ear in a tone that seemed to be bewitching: "I am the imperial advisor."
"Gongsun Mo" raised his head, his eyes instantly ignited with raging anger: "It's you!"
"It seems that you understand." Facing Gongsun Mo's anger, the Imperial Master smiled slightly: "But you don't understand. What I did was a righteous act."
"fart!"
"I don't ask you to understand my lifelong ambition." The Imperial Master said, "But I can help you."
Without waiting for the man to answer, the Imperial Master extinguished the fire in the man's heart with one sentence like a torrential flood: "I can tell you how to replace the Xieluo River... from there."
"I can give you back what you love, Xieluohe!"
…
The Imperial Master took Gongsun Mo to a secret room.
The secret room is dark and deep underground.
This place seems to be at the bottom of the palace. No one in the world knows that there is such a place hidden at the bottom of the palace.
The sound of whining wind came from the empty secret room, which sounded like a ghost's howl. It could be seen that there was another vent for ventilation above the empty chamber. Countless chains hung empty above, swinging gently in the breeze and making clanging sounds from time to time.
"It doesn't matter whether you hate me or blame me! The matter has come to this. If you are willing, just listen to me. If you are not willing, I will send you away. You can enjoy endless glory and wealth for the rest of your life!"
"explain!"
The man gritted his teeth and said one word, revealing boundless hatred.
"Xie Luohe was just taken away by Chang An, she did not die. However, it is difficult to replace her from Chang An. Only in a hundred years, when Chang An and Chang Shi are extremely close, you can use the painting skills of a natural stranger to Draw your thoughts, draw the day and night between you and her, draw her... When the hundred years are up, you can bring her back from the darkness!"
"But I am not a stranger!"
"Now, you are!" The Imperial Master laughed, shaking his sleeve, revealing a pale and withered arm, pointing at Gongsun Mo. The moment the arm touched Gongsun Mo, it seemed to come to life, grabbing Gongsun Mo's wrist and breaking his hand.
The five fingers of the severed hand were bent like a big mouth, crushing the man's broken bones and eating his flesh and blood.
After a scream, the corpse-like severed hand disappeared, and there were two twisted black characters on the back of his hand, like birthmarks.
"It's really you!"
It was night, and the man shed a layer of human skin all over his body. The human skin turned into fine powder and spread all over the floor.
Men are thinner.
The next day, a long table was set up in the secret room. Around the man, there were hundreds of piles of white paper, each one as tall as two people.
The voice of the Imperial Master echoed in the secret room.
"Jump down!"
"Jump down!"
"Jump down!"
The moment I started writing, "Plop!" and the sound of falling water came to my ears.
Ink and wash formed grotesque images in a twisted world. Behind him were doors that had already been opened. At the end of the winding road is a cliff.
The man jumped.
That's the abyss.
He couldn't remember how long he had fallen, or how deep he had fallen.
At the end of the abyss, there is a door.
He landed hard on the door, slamming it open.
"It's missing."
"I cannot absorb the souls of the dead from the human world, but I can use my thoughts to redraw them."
"Xie Yunliu is right, the third time a person dies is when he is forgotten by the world."
“I can draw them if I can’t forget them.”
"They live."
"Live in remembrance."
The man's eyes were bright, but indifferent, and he wrote coldly.
Twist the Luohe River lightly and tell a piece of paper about the love words from another life.
Who puts the story into the painting?
Thinking of her as I write.
Snow mountains, deserts, mountains and rivers, sun and moon, rivers and lakes, years.
He painted every minute and every second.
Day and night.
He would smile when painting snowy mountains, close his eyes when painting deserts, get drunk when painting wine tables, and feel resentful when painting Chinese masters.
His paintings fell to the ground one after another.
In every painting, there is her and them.
The scroll fell to the ground, twisted strangely, and turned into a series of evil ghosts.
He could no longer hear the sounds or sights around him. Even if the Imperial Master would take away his paintings every day and send them back every once in a while, he would not be able to notice it.
He stopped eating, drinking, talking, and sleeping, and became thinner and thinner.
One year, two years, ten years, fifty years.
He is no more than a withered bone.
His body gradually curved, and his hunched back was like a bow.
From a distance, the whole person looks like a hand.
A hand that can only draw.
It looks like a hand with bones.
His reputation spread throughout the world, and he was known as the "Ghost Painter". It's just that no one has ever really seen the true appearance of "Gongsun Mo, the Painted Ghost", as if he has really become a ghost hidden in the world. I can only see his paintings, but not his people. The legend became more and more evil as it spread, and his paintings also spread more and more widely.
In the blink of an eye, a hundred years have passed and dynasties have changed.
No one knows that underground in the imperial city, there is a "ghost" known as the painting ghost in the world.
Around him were piles of evil ghost paintings.
From one day to the next, there was a small "hole" in his back.
The hole kept getting bigger and bigger.
A hundred years ago, it was already the size of a palm.
Someday.
The man's withered palm gently pressed against a piece of white paper.
In the secret room, the white paper in the sky trembled violently and flew into the man's hands from all directions.
All the papers are stacked layer by layer. On the picture, the scenery is ever-changing, sometimes it is the blazing sun, sometimes it is snowstorm, sometimes it is a winding road, sometimes it is the yellow sand of the desert, sometimes it is the red wedding candles.
In the end, the picture became a mountain, a tomb, and a figure with its back facing her.
In the scroll, the graceful figure slowly turns around, the corners of the woman's lips are raised, but her eyes are empty.
"Just... the finishing touch."
The man closed his eyes, breathed weakly, and murmured: "Back then, I owed you a painting. Now, I don't owe you any more."
He bit his finger and squeezed out the last drop of blood. On the tip of the pen, a bright red dot slowly moved towards the blank face as the man's trembling hand moved.
When he was about to put his eyes in the eye, the man looked at the blank face, his whole body was shocked, and he stopped completely.
