[Jin Guang] [Mo Qiao] I don't know

In the end, there were no countless people who needed to be rescued, and no fiery demon world invading—it seemed that the only thing he needed to consider was whether the weather was too hot or not.He can choose to escape, he can choose to forget, he can choose not to meet again so as not to face the inescapable guilt and self-blame.

He stood in front of the telephone, the microphone in his hand was stained by body temperature, only a clear heartbeat seemed to be left in his ears, and even the doctor's question seemed distant.

Then he heard himself say:

"Well, no problem. I'll be there tomorrow."

The long slope leading to Mo Cangli's house is now under the shade of dense trees.Qiao Rulai carried a simple backpack and rode a bicycle up the hill all the way. After getting used to this kind of exercise, she didn't sweat much.Swallows hovering back and forth in pairs in the air, their tails cut across the blue sky, leaving a series of crisp twitters.He parked the car outside the courtyard and pushed the courtyard door—it was unlocked as usual.

He knew that Mo Cangli was at home.

The small courtyard that hasn't been seen for three months doesn't seem to have changed.The peonies are gone, and the petunias are in bud all over the wall. The courtyard is lush and light green. Only the red carp in the pond swims back and forth, jumping up occasionally, smearing a little bright red in the greenery of the garden.He took the kettle and poured water one by one. Halfway through watering, he heard footsteps behind him.

Mo Cangli walked out without knowing when.

The man was wearing a simple white cotton T-shirt and a pair of dark blue trousers underneath. He was unexpectedly no longer in dark green, and he did not hold an iPad in his hand.His gaze met Qiao Rulai.

"coming?"

"Ah."

"The ending is finished. Do you want to read it?"

Of course.

Qiao Rulai followed Mo Cangli into the house to the other party's study.The previous mess is gone, at least all the materials have been stuffed back into the bookshelf, leaving a stack of manuscript paper in the middle of the desk.After Mo Cangli pointed, he made a "comfortable" gesture and began to sit aside to play with his iPad.

Qiao Rulai opened the typescript.

That's an expected story.

The story begins with a mural in a temple, but after the prologue, it quickly turns to an era that is hardly recorded in history.At that time, the royal power of the Central Plains was lost, the martial arts were respected, and the chaos of the Nine Realms came one after another. The Mohists, who walked in the darkness in 2000, tried to show their prominence-conspirators who have plotted for many years, ambitious heroes, young knights, demons to Buddha, Bewitched people... All kinds of people and things that have been hidden in the long river of time seem to be resurrected one by one through words.Qiao Tathagata didn't look carefully, he realized that there were mistakes and omissions in it - there is always a limit to the truth left by inferences and fragments of unofficial history - but those are just insignificant details.

Everything he has experienced is now known to the person in front of him.

Subconsciously, he didn't dare to look carefully, and quickly turned to the end—and that made Qiao Rulai stop.

Many years after all the dust settled, a certain temple hired a very famous painter to decorate the two walls of the Buddhist hall.The client is a local benevolent man. He once wandered in the rivers and lakes, but now he is very old and enjoying the life of his children and grandchildren.He said to the painter: I would like to invite you to paint these two murals.

The painter said: Father, this is not a story in a Buddhist scripture.

The old man said: Yes, this is not a story in the Buddhist scriptures, but a ritual passed down from generation to generation by the great sons of the Mohist school.

The painter had vaguely heard the rumors of the legendary conspirators, but he had never heard of the story of the murder of the master and blood succession.Even after the old man explained it, he was still puzzled: Why do you want me to create such murals?

The old man said: I don't know if all the Mohists are like this, but the one I know has always had such a stone in his heart.He couldn't forgive himself for what he'd done, even though others might not think so.

Do you want to say he did the right thing?

No, kill a person to save the world, not kill a person to benefit the world.Even under the principles of the Mohists, that is definitely not correct, but it is the "correct choice".

That's why you asked me to draw such a picture.There is Shura in everyone's heart, and there are heaven and man in people's hearts. Shura and heaven and man are one - the painter thought about it, and finally said, but what about the person who was killed?Even if the world would think that such a sacrifice is necessary, his master——

I think the truth is exactly the opposite of what you said.No, it's better to say that from the very beginning, his master never had the slightest resentment.If, if there is a day when these two people meet again, I think the words he wants to say must not be——

Text breaks here.

Qiao Rulai stood in front of the table and slowly put down the last piece of paper.

Of course that couldn't be the true story.Maybe the murals in the temple have some inexplicable connection with the Mohists, but he clearly knows that the ending of the novel, which looks like a snake's feet, is only written for him.

That was what Mo Cangli wanted to say to Qiaoru.

What is he going to say?

Qiao Tathagata doesn't know.The great hope and the great fear fixed him in place, he couldn't turn around, he didn't know what to say, and even his heart was filled with too many things to think about.

But the man came up behind him.

The slender fingers gathered up the scattered manuscript papers, and then gently wiped his cheeks.

"Don't you know you're crying?"

"……what?"

Qiao Rulai felt that his eyes seemed a little blurry - he blinked vigorously, and his cheeks felt slightly cool.This is too embarrassing, Qiao Tathagata thought, but as if an unknown switch in her body was turned on, the tears rolled down silently and could not stop.

All this has been suppressed for too long.Almost two lifetimes.

"Fool." Mo Cangli said in a low voice, his voice was too soft, "You really don't know what that sentence is?"

Qiao Rulai wiped away her tears vigorously (even though the tears still couldn't stop), raised her head, and met the other party's gaze without flinching.

Finally the young man spoke.

"Master."

The man leaned down, and a kiss landed on the corner of his eye.The saltiness of the tears flowed between the lips and teeth, and that bit of heat slowly spread.He heard the man say a sentence he thought he would never hear.

"You're doing great. Always have been."

Even though it's been so long, so long.

I'm still here waiting.And here you are again.

Outside the window, the cicada, which has been sleeping for 17 years, is making its first loud long cry.

Summer has arrived.

The End.