Faithful to Buddha, Faithful to You

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After waking up, I found myself in a group of people, male and female, with strange facial features: high nose and deep eyes, thin lips, round face and short neck, fine skin, brown eyes. The men are full-bodied and the women are tall. Both men and women have short, shoulder-length hair, curly hair, and maroon hair. And the costumes are even more peculiar: men wear lapels with narrow sleeves, tunic, knee-high boots, sabers behind, and women's dresses are much simpler, knee-length robes, right shoulders are exposed, left shoulders are also narrow sleeves, and a piece of cotton Quality shawls and high boots.

Can't help admiring myself. In this hungry and thirsty situation, I can still get a very professional appraisal of apparel appearance with just a few observations. However, now these are not the most important, because I have smelled the smell of food.

It's a few cakes and a bowl of noodle soup, so warm, it made me drool. I hurriedly took it from a woman in her forties, and thankfully vaguely thanked her. The cakes were swept away, the noodle soup was also bone-drinking, and the stomach finally felt a little bit. In fact, I still want to eat. I am embarrassed to ask if I can do it again, and then I find that the language is not good.

It is normal to speak different languages. People at a glance know that they are not Han people. I don’t know if they fell in ancient times. Maybe I just took a free flight and landed in the desert of the Middle East or Africa, and encountered a relatively backward nomadic tribe. The result is still in the 21st century.

When I was thinking more and more frustrated in my groaning incomprehensible voice, suddenly two people appeared in the tent, and the others immediately stopped talking and looked respectfully. I can feel the person's identity is unusual, but when the two men stood in front of the blanket I was lying on, I was surprised to open my mouth and stay away for a long time.

It was a young nun who looked more than 30 years old and a younger monk who looked 15 or 16 years old. This identity is quite strange, and even more surprising is their natural and noble temperament. Just standing quietly, also flowing out of extraordinary Yunhua.

The nun's face is similar to the women around me, but the skin is finer. The eyes are large, the eyebrows are wide, and the brown eyes are a little invisible when staring at me. She has a full body, and the simple maroon cassock can't wrap her beautiful figure. It's just that her forehead looks different from ordinary people. It seems to be pressed, and she leans back flat, because her bald head looks even more weird. I remember that the ancient Egyptians and the ancient Persians had such a custom of suppressing their foreheads from an early age, but only for members of the royal family. I don't know whether she was born congenital or intentionally pressed. But this flat forehead couldn't hide her beauty, and the whole person exuded a mature charm.

Then carefully looked at the fifteen- or sixteen-year-old young monk, and could not help secretly admiring, it is really forceful and elegant! It is the same with high nose and deep eyes, but no roughness of others. The entire face is like a Greek sculpture, with a sharp three-dimensional silhouette. The combination of facial features is just right. The long eyebrows, the pretty nose bridge, and the light gray eyes are embedded in the large and deep eye sockets, as pure as the endless sky on the Gobi Desert. Although he was young, he was already glorious, and when I looked at me, I took a gentle look.

His lips were thin, his lips were sharp, and he curled up his lips and raised a sharp arc. The face is long and narrow, the jaw is sharp, the neck is like a swan, and the lines are beautiful and slender. Unlike other white-skinned people in the tent, he has honey-colored skin. The wide monk's robes wrapped the whole body, and the nearly one-meter-seven head was lined up in a graceful posture, but it was still slightly thin. He is still in the stage of growing his body. In time, he should be able to reach more than 1.80 meters.

I stared at these two strange people, and my brain spun quickly. Hearing them to me, it was actually Chinese, but it was very awkward.

They struggled to distinguish where they were asking me where I came from and why I was alone. I looked up with pain in my face: "Can you tell me first: Where am I from which country?"

The beautiful nun obviously didn't understand, but the young monk seemed to understand. He squatted suddenly, the pure and handsome face quickly enlarged in front of me. I stared at his elegant facial features, and my heart beat with a strong sound, but I was shocked myself.

"Wenxuer, we're here, soon. Is the Han Chinese?"

I was annoyed by my unexplained heartbeat, and I heard him sternly reverse the subject and the subject. The foreign-sounding pronunciation made me burst out laughing.

He was a little embarrassed, his face flushed with blush: "Chinese, I, speak, not good."

He turned his head and whispered to the beautiful nun. I quickly suffocated and didn't smile, thinking about the Wensuer he just mentioned, what is this place? Searching in his head according to his pronunciation, it doesn't seem to be the name of Handi.

He turned his head and said to me again: "Mud, there, go?"

I asked tentatively, "Changan, do you know?"

Watching him nod, I exhaled. Fortunately, the place name Chang'an already exists in this time and space.

"But..." He looked at me a little hesitantly, "Hate far, alone, mud?"

I nodded helplessly. I couldn't figure out where to go except Chang'an at this time, and I didn't care how to speak the language.

"We, go to the tune, mud, access, yes."

He struggled to squeeze out a word, and I just wanted to laugh, holding back hard. It saved me and was able to communicate with me. Thinking to myself, what is this "tune"? It's been seven or eight hours since I landed, but I still can't figure out the geographic location and historical era. Alas, the graduate student of the history department of the prestigious and famous university is ashamed of home.

"Mud, life purple?"

"Huh?" I was confused and didn't realize it. He asked again, and I realized that Mingzi = name.

"Oh, my name is Ai Qing."

My name is always teased. The nickname has been since childhood: LOVE. Boys always like to shout at me, oh, myllove! My parents and I protested the name change, but they were rejected by them. After shouting for a long time, I got used to it. It’s not bad to call love, but unfortunately it has been called for so many years, my love bird, it has not come yet.

"My name is……"

He spit out a long string of sounds, which I couldn't remember, looked at him with the corner of his mouth. He said it three times very understandingly. Based on his pronunciation, I found the corresponding Chinese character: Qiu-Mo-Ruo-Ji-Bo, which was really hard to read. I desperately back: Chumoruojibo, Chumoruojibo, Chumoruojibo...

The corners of his mouth raised and raised, and finally he laughed silently. The laughter is clear and bright, like the gurgling spring in the mountains. Recalling that I just laughed at his inaccurate Chinese, this time he could be laughed back, and his face was a little hot.

He only smiled for a while, and saw my embarrassed face, and quickly hurriedly closed, pointing at the beautiful nun behind him: "I, Xylophone, Jibo."

I am now able to adapt to his accent, which automatically translates to: Xylophone = mother.

This beauty is actually his mother! Buddhist family. Can't help but think: See if he is still a teenager, is his mother brought into the Buddha? There was a pity in my heart, and I quickly shook off this unexpected thought. Jibo? I don’t know if it’s her name or her respectful name. I tentatively called her Jibo, and she nodded politely.

"Mud, Hao Hao Xiu Xi, us, Ming Tian, ​​Shang Lu." (Translation: You have a good rest, we will be on the road tomorrow.)

After the nun monk left, I shared a tent with the four women. Although they do not understand what they are saying, they are very friendly. I was embarrassed to eat any more, and lay down warmly on the carpet they laid for me.

This suddenly broke into an unfamiliar environment, with poor communication and nowhere. The strong winds peculiar to the desert outside the tent whimpered and wept in the silent night. I'm not so strong, I feel homesick when I close my eyes, and linger on my pillow. To avoid crying because of missing my parents, I use the hypnosis method I use most often.

The surrounding objects that had been measured before going to bed emerged in my mind, and I gave them a professional name one by one: I slept on a velvet rhombus ornament rug, the pillow was a dew-drop deer brocade, and the triangular blanket was covered, drink The water container is a single-ear netted clay pot, and the muddy gray pottery basin just filled the cake.

I think I'm still ancient, because the craftsmanship of these pottery is still very primitive. Judging from the level of pottery in the Central Plains region, such a rough craft should be more than two thousand years old, I don’t know how it is here.

In the whistle of the wind outside the account and the slight snoring in the account, I couldn't stop the day's tiredness, wrapped the blanket around me, and I finally fell asleep.