Lao Gong's speech really doesn't sound pleasant.
He always manages to find something funny, even though it makes me raise my eyebrows.
One of the lamas spoke, and he spoke in Tibetan.
I couldn't understand, but Lao Gong seemed extremely gloomy, saying, "Try saying another one?"
Another monk was slightly startled. It seemed like he didn't understand. But Lao Gong actually managed to understand?
Before that, Lao Gong had consumed the souls of the Luo family.
He knows what he should know.
From Lao Gong's expression, it was clear that the monk hadn't said anything nice.
"Alright, Lao Gong, they are not following the teachings. Go and talk to Agon. As a grand master of celestial jade and gold, what are you arguing with two small monks who lack virtue and cultivation?" My father spoke up at the right moment.
Lao Gong then served it up, humming twice, "Let the Living Buddha sort you out."
The two monks' faces all turned red and their expressions became uneasy without exception.
After that, they spoke a few more words, but Lao Gong remained the same, showing no emotion. The two monks became even more uncomfortable, sitting like needles under their backs.
The details of the journey are not worth elaborating on.
When we arrived at the foot of the fifth Buddha Temple, all the red-tiled roofs were covered with snowy white snow, and there were flickering candles. The car drove up to the mountain normally, and it was still parked at that row of white houses.
After we got down, the two monks quickly headed towards the Buddhist temple in the direction of the institute. They didn't even pay attention to us.
The driver rolled down the window, resting his hand outside to smoke.
"It's boring. In the past, the Takadanobaba Temple, and now the Leping Taoist Academy. Those monks and Daoists are not as afraid of the two golden wheels." Lao Gong spat on the ground.
"Different," my father said, looking in another direction, lost in thought.
"Yes, yes, yes, where else could it be different? Isn't it just a matter of vegetarian versus non-vegetarian? At its core, they both come from the same source. Xibo may not make others happy, but he's quite satisfied himself. As for Agon, I think he's not happy himself and doesn't make others feel good either." Lao Gong kept talking non-stop with a click of his tongue.
"That's not what I meant," my father shook his head.
"Well, master you too. I previously thought that if you had stayed here for a few more years, you would become a monk." Lao Gong's mouth was still not giving in.
My father smiled but walked in the direction Lao Gong was looking.
That direction was the makeshift hut where Agon Monk used to live.
"I think he's not there anymore," I said as I followed up.
"He is not there, but we came to the temple to see him. The rest is up to him to come and see us," my father replied.
His words gave me a sense that they contained a touch of Buddhist wisdom.
However, this feeling was indescribable.
From my father's attitude, it seemed that the Lama Agon was not as terrifying as before?
About a few minutes later, we arrived at the makeshift hut in front of it.
Not far away, was the sky-burial ground.
In the deep of the night, there were still a few vultures hovering in the sky.
My father reached out to push open the door.
He appeared relaxed and at ease, as if he were just pushing open his own front door.
Inside the house, there was someone!
There was Agon Lama, dressed in thick robes, sitting quietly by a table in the corner.
He had a faint smile on his lips, and in front of him, there was a night pot in red and white.
My father stood there motionless.
A drop of sweat appeared on his forehead.
"What's the matter?" Lao Gong muttered under his breath, "Are you nostalgic? That's interesting."
This Agon Lama is not the same as that Agon Lama.
He has already become a reincarnated lama. This is just his old body, left behind in the makeshift hut where he used to perform sky-burial ceremonies.
My father had not expected to find the body here.
Clearly, Lao Gong hadn't expected to see the remnants of his own former dwelling.
In the next moment, my father still walked into the house.
I went inside, and Lao Gong spat a mouthful of phlegm onto Agon Lama's corpse.
He suddenly seemed much happier, and he squinted and smiled.
The room was very simple, with mostly bookshelves, and there was a bed leaning against the corner in the far corner.
The stove had not been lit for a long time, and the temperature was very low.
My father did it so familiarly, lighting the fire and then fetching water from a bucket beside it. He took out a lot of things from a cabinet and boiled a pot of oil tea.
Shortly, the room became warm.
"Master, your taste is quite heavy. I feel like everything here has oil from the corpses." Lao Gong reminded.
"No, Agon was very clean before," my father said.
"You mean, he's not clean anymore now?" Lao Gong turned his head.
"Becoming a living Buddha should make him even cleaner and more enlightened. However, I never expected that being a living Buddha itself is also a sin. At least, when the thirteenth Xianren locked everyone up and stopped reincarnating himself, it proved that this sin does exist. Xibo has become more concrete." My father explained.
I feel like I understand, but it seems like I'm not completely clear.
"He, has something to ask for."
My father spoke another sentence that made my heart skip a beat.
"My father's next words made my heart flutter. 'He doesn't want to do anything to us now. He has something to ask for. There's no need for him to lie, so he hasn't said anything else besides telling us about the origins of the eight houses.'"
"Therefore, stay here and let him come to see us," my father continued to explain.
Lao Gong looked up and down at my father, making a sound of wonder and surprise, implying that he hadn't expected this at all. He just felt that Agon Lama used this method to call us back, and the possibility of us escaping from the prison would be very low. However, as it turned out, he had something to ask for?
My father simply tilted his head slightly, poured a cup of butter tea for me, and even for Lao Gong.
Lao Gong muttered a few more words, implying that he thought my father had a bit more understanding than me. It wasn't about Taoist practices, but rather about being more pure in heart. If he had been born in a Taoist temple, he would definitely have been a much more important teacher than Wu Jinluan.
I wonder if Wu Jinluan will sneeze while he is in the ascension school.
After drinking the butter tea, my father somehow took out two pieces of tsampa, which he ate with great relish, but which I found difficult to swallow.
Particularly, looking at the corpse of Agon Lama made me feel a bit uneasy in my heart.
In the end, my father went to bed.
I sat cross-legged on the chair.
At first, I couldn't enter the state of concentration. I could see Lao Gong playing with his night pot, but that was all. He didn't actually go inside the pot or stay on top of it.
His vigilance towards Agon Lama was extremely high.
When dawn came, sunlight streamed in through the narrow window, shining directly on my face.
I slowly opened my eyes, and my spirit was already at a peak level.
Lao Gong had already disappeared, and my father started to make tea again.
I could faintly hear the sound of breathing.
Someone is outside the door.
With the growth of my strength, these details are particularly obvious.
The person who came was certainly not Agon Lama!
Because, I did not feel any oppression or threat.
My father poured a cup of tea and put it in front of me. He also gave me a piece of tsampa.
While eating, he blew on the tea to cool it down and sipped it noisily.
"He is becoming more and more polite to us. Whatever he needs, becomes increasingly indispensable to us." My father suddenly said: "This is an exchange. He uses the eight houses to exchange us for work."
