Chapter 1138: Hao Shou Ping Jing Tong Secret

Everything around me is almost the same as before the fire. Although there is a deep thought leading me in front of me, at this moment, I just feel that my eyes are blurred, I do n’t know whether the rising snow has lost my eyes, or the tears flowing in my eyes Blurred his vision, in fact, I could not see his figure at all, only walking forward step by step based on the memories.
As I walked along a promenade, I turned my head and saw the other side, standing on the veranda on the water.
Not even there.
Nian Shen walked in front, realizing that I didn't follow behind, stopped and looked back at me: "Aunt Qing, why don't you leave?"
"..."
He looked at me, and followed my gaze to that side.
Then he seemed to understand something.
There was a gloomy expression on his small face.
At this moment, the two were speechless, but Cai Wei, who had no knowledge of the original thing, gently pulled my sleeves and whispered: "Mrs. Prince, His Royal Highness is still waiting. How about you. "
I turned to look at her, and then looked deeper at the front, and smiled.
"Let's go."
"Ok."
He didn't ask a word, turned around and walked forward, and I glanced at the terrace again, and continued to walk forward.
After a while, I went to the library.
The library of Jixian Temple, I used to come here very few times. This is the place where the classics are collected. It is similar to the palace's cabinet. However, the collection of books here is more oriented towards literature and history. Nianshen took me up the steps and said, "The teachers have not given lectures these years, but have concentrated on recording some ancient books in the library."
"is it?"
"Yes, the Emperor also ordered that many books from the Cabinet and other places be moved here and handed over to the teacher for compilation."
I smiled slightly.
In fact, Fu Bazhen may not be a bookworm willing to drill into the book. When Pei Yuanzhang summoned him to the palace, he could see that the three policy programs proposed to the emperor, this person has the heart of joining the world. Temple's learning is probably just because the time is not up, let alone meet someone who can make him develop his ambitions.
But now he has returned to these books.
What does he think?
Seeing that he was about to go to the gate, I said gently, "Mr. Fu Da, is he okay?"
"..."
It was just a very simple question, but the deep step was delayed, and he didn't answer me immediately.
I saw his frown slightly.
"what happened?"
"..." He looked up at me.
I felt more and more wrong: "What happened to Mr. Fu? Is there anything wrong?"
Nian Shen was silent for a while, then looked up and looked at the front, and then said, "He's in there, Aunt Qing, go in and see him yourself."
After speaking, he didn't wait for me to answer, and then he turned and walked away. Some eunuchs followed us from a distance. He walked over and instructed not to let others enter the library to disturb us, and then left.
My brow is tightened.
Cai Wei came to me: "Ma'am, what's wrong?"
I said, "Cai Wei, you are also guarding outside. I didn't tell you not to come in. I went in to meet my teacher."
She nodded. "I see."
After speaking, I walked over and gently opened the door.


The room was dark.
Although there are snow and goose feathers outside, it has been out of the sun for several days, but it is still very bright. It is a little unexpected that this library is so dark, but if you look around, you will understand that it is full of tall bookshelves. It was lined with books and Jane, exuding an indescribable, mild, cold, musty smell.
When people walk here, it's like sunsets and mountains, twilight is coming, and when everything is going to fall into darkness, they can't read the book anyway.
However, some people do not need to read books here.
When I stepped into the high threshold and just stepped in, I saw two bookshelves not far from the doorway. The books on it were no more than other bookshelves, piled up with only a few scattered pieces. Ben, in the middle of the two bookshelves, was standing across a table case, and a man was sitting there kneeling down, struggling to write a blistering book.
In the cold library, this scene is not surprising.
Even there was no light on the desk case, and I was not surprised, because I knew that his eyes could see everything in the world without lighting the lamp many years ago.
However, when I approached and saw him clearly, my breath was still choking.
The person in front of me is the great Shu Confucianist, and my mentor has set the court, or Fu Bayi, who has been in the Central Plains for fifteen years. His appearance is still the same as in the past, with clear eyes and a straight nose Even in the dim light, he can see more and more brown spots on his face, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and lips have increased a lot compared to that year, making him look a little more old-fashioned.
However, his old age did not come from those marks, nor from the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and lips.
I clearly remember that when he entered the palace, his hair was only shaved by over an inch, his hair was gray, and he looked like a dervish. Even if he did not continue to shave in the palace, the hair has not been too long, but now By the time his hair had grown, he tied it casually with a piece of cloth.
That hair is white.
I ca n’t believe my eyes, for fear that I ’m dazzled, or the snowfall of the goose feathers outside the house fell on his head, he turned white, but when I walked step by step, I went to the table case. In front of me, I looked down, but I could see the white hair one by one, like silver wire, and white as snow.
I froze there.
And the white-haired old man still held the pen in his hand and lowered his head to write a pen. When he finished the last line and solemnly dropped the last stroke, he felt like he was relieved, rubbed his hand and touched the table. At the position of the pen holder, slowly put the pen up.
Then he looked up at me.
"You are back."
His voice is clearly familiar, but I remember that in the past, he always had a touch of smile and indifference every time he spoke, as if a natural spring with sweet water, even if he just listened to him Speaking a word, chanting a poem, I also feel that I have received great comfort, but now, his voice is still his voice, but it is as old as the Jian Jian piled up in this room, recording the culture, but it is getting old It's hard to tell.
I slowly knelt down by the desk case in front of him.
"teacher……"
Hearing my voice, he seemed to have gotten affirmative, and nodded softly again: "Just come back. I'm fine, you should come back."
My voice was a little hoarse, especially looking at him messy, not combed hair, and asked directly: "What's going on?"
"Ok?"
"Teacher's hair-are you sick?"
"Haha," he smiled, "old, but I don't have time to get sick."
"So why?"
He seemed to have heard the wetness and crying from my voice, sighed lightly, and said nothing, but just held up the booklet just written, and blew a few words into the words above The cold and damp of this library is probably because there was still a lingering fire in Jixian Hall before fire. The fireworks here are even extinct, so he finished writing for a while, and the handwriting was not completely dry.
After blowing a few sips, I finally saw the ink dry out.
Then he passed the book to me.
I took a look and turned out to be 13 subjects.
This is an extinct ancient book. According to legend, it was written by Xuanyuan Huangdi. I have only heard of it in word of mouth. I didn't expect it to exist, and I saw the true chapter in his writing.
At this moment, my heart suddenly beat.
I looked up at him: "Teacher, this is--"
"I used it in the ancient books that I brought from Xichuan to Beijing," he said, and sighed. "But the fire was gone, and nothing was left."
My heart beats even harder.
"Teacher, are you recording the ancient books?"
"Good."
"..."
Earlier I said that he recorded ancient books in this library. I thought he was just like me and took some solitary records to re-transcribe. Now I have returned to God. His eyes are blind. How can I see? How is it possible to do transcription work?
What he wants to record is not the lonely ancient books that exist, but the ancient books that he still remembers in his mind and have already been burned!
He, like me, closed his five senses with the posture of sitting in the lotus position, entered the deepest part of the spiritual realm, recalled those ancient books and books that he had collected but had not kept, and then, after waking back , Record it!
I turned my head and looked at the bookshelf aside.
No wonder the books on these two shelves are scattered and not as many as other bookshelves, because these are recorded by him based on his own memory.
Four years, but a dozen!
I looked down, looked at his white hair, and suddenly understood what came over.
"Teacher, your hair--"
When he heard my trembling voice, he seemed to understand something, reached out and touched his horns, and said, "I know."
"..."
"But I can't take care of it."
"..."
"While I have not vomited up my blood, I can record a few books, but a few."
"..."
Yes, at first I just wanted to remember the map on the sipa opened by the Iron Family, and he vomited blood, and he-he remembered that there were so many books, and many of them were decayed. After reading it, it is not his spirit, but his essence, to record it so hard!
I just felt a shock in my chest, and it was painful, looking at him: "Teacher ..."
Without saying a word, a thought flashed through my mind.
Magic effect set!