Yulu colleagues: Shangyuan Ling

The spring rain is slanting, and in the quiet path of the ancient temple on the mountain, a girl in plain clothes leads a white horse and walks into the gate of the ancient temple with the sound of bells.

After the pious Buddhist visit, the girl handed her beloved horse to the little novice monk in the mountain temple, saying that she was afraid that the road down the mountain would be muddy and the horse would not go down the mountain, so she stayed in the mountain temple and picked it up in the future.

The little novice smiled and said Amitabha, agreed, and took out an oil-paper umbrella and handed it to her.

The girl took the oiled paper umbrella, clasped her hands together, and thanked her.

After taking two steps, the girl asked again with a smile——little master, it is said that a deer-herding fairy has come to this mountain recently, is this true?

The little novice just smiled and said nothing.

The girl also felt that she was impolite, and nodded——Amitabha.

After leaving the gate of the ancient temple, Nayi followed the quiet path and went down the mountain alone.

The rain fell on the stone slabs of the path, dripping lavishly on the bamboo leaves, making a crisp sound.

In a lush bamboo forest, only a plain green shirt walked slowly through it.

But she stopped halfway, she bent down, and picked up a small purse that was soaked by the rain.

The purse is not exquisitely embroidered, nor is it finished.But this silk thread is cold to the touch, it is the best ice silk thread.

Or which daughter Lang's sweetheart traveled far away early, and this object was handed over before the embroidery was finished?

When Kuang Lu was searching left and right to see if someone was missing, a gust of wind came from nowhere and suddenly blew away the purse in her hand.

The wind was blinded by the rain.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw that the purse was falling into the hands of a gentleman in white.

Kuang Lu couldn't help being taken aback—why did the purse seem to fly into his hand by itself?

The wind blows without making a sound, and the deep bamboo forest shakes out the clear sound.

The ancient temple on the top of the mountain suddenly rang the bell.

In the ancient bell of the 喈喈———

In the faint bamboo path———

Under the breeze and light rain———

That white robe turned around———

into her eyes.

At this glance, the mood is turned up a thousand feet high and thousands of miles deep.

Higher than mountains, deeper than seas.

But Kuang Lu in the human world didn't know why.She never remembered that she had such a state of mind for thousands of years.

At that time, she met the most gentle and gentle man in the world, and with just one look, she was doomed.

That kalpa is the joy Amitabha said by the Buddhists, and it is also the joy of fate written by human excerpts.

Ps——Amitabha, amita is immeasurable.

Happy Amitabha, there is no textual research, fabricated, please don't slap your face.

I really like this sentence, happy Amitabha, hahahaha.