Who Cares

Even if Ruan's family didn't come to make a noise, Guan Suyi planned to hold a transcendent ritual for his younger brothers and sisters. Because of the emperor's visit to the Zhao Mansion yesterday, many relatives and dignitaries came to the Jueyin Temple to participate in the ceremony, and Zhao Jinyu's fellow comrades in arms helped make the scene a grand occasion. And he himself is still fighting on the battlefield, and he doesn't know how long he will return.

The Ruan family didn't arrive until after noon, each with their noses and faces swollen and depressed, as if they were in a catastrophe. Without a word, they rushed to the feet of the old lady and called for help, bluntly saying that all the money had been looted by the bandits, and now there is no entanglement to return home, so they begged Zhao Mansion to take it in.

After all, it was Nguyen's family, and at her funeral, even if the old lady hated them, she had to pinch her nose to prepare a few wing rooms and settle the people in the Kua Yin Temple.

At the same time, Guan Suyi is locking herself in the house to write sacrificial essays for Nguyen Thi, and later will sing and burn on the altar to comfort her in the sky. As I said before, she would never admit her mistakes for a Caesarean section, not for her reputation, but for the future of her child. So what can be written?

She discarded distracting thoughts and carefully recalled the bits and pieces of getting along with Nguyen. Not only did she feel sorry for her being exhausted by her appearance and trapped in poverty, but also admired her for respecting her mother-in-law, treating her juniors kindly, and having a harmonious relationship with herself, supporting each other, and thinking about it. , The teardrops have been streaming down, wet the clothes.

After a while, she finally picked up her pen and slowly wrote, "In September of the fourth year of Shengyuan, I mourned my younger brother Ruan at Kwae Yin Temple. See you early in the past..." After writing for a full hour, she cried and wrote. Weeping, kept her eyes flushed, and then slowly collected the last stroke, sitting in a chair in a daze.

At this time, her mind was full of Ruan's voice, smile and dying calling, Hunar and Huo Shengzhe were all forgotten. What kind of children do you want, and what glory and wealth do you want? It is the most luscious thing in the world to live well and raise a few children under your knees.

Thinking of the heartbroken Mu Mu and the baby who was waiting to be fed by her, Zhao Huaien, she finally wiped off the last tear and went to the dojo with the sacrificial text.

"Guan Shizhu, have you finished writing the sacrificial text?" Master Xuanguang asked warmly.

"It's finished, Master, would you like to see it?" Guan Suyi folded her hands together and saluted respectfully.

"No, let the deceased see it first." Master Xuanguang stretched out his hand and motioned her to step onto the altar. When she sat down and knocked on the wooden fish, the monks sitting around the altar began to chant. Damage to the body is a big taboo, and it requires sincere confession and recitation for seven or forty-nine days to make up for it.

The curling Sanskrit sounds and hazy smoke linger in the air, and there is a strong scent of sandalwood invading the left and right sides, which makes people feel solemn and at the same time exceptionally calm and peaceful. The relatives and dignitaries who came to worship one after another knelt down on the futon, folded their hands, and followed chanting.

They looked up to see Mrs. Guan on the altar, wanting to hear how she comforted the dead.

Guan Suyi knelt in front of the spirit with her back to the crowd, and sincerely recited a passage of the reincarnated sutra before he picked up the manuscript and sang and read the sacrificial text. At this time, most of the sacrificial texts imitated the four-character rhyme of the "Book of Songs", or used the parallel style, aiming to be solemn and upright; but she recalled the past and felt sad, and really did not want to limit the expression with four or five characters or six or seven sentences. , Blocked the grief, broke the convention and format, and wrote an essay.

The first few paragraphs recalled how the two met at first sight and loved their sisters, and how Nguyen respected their mother-in-law and took care of the younger generations. The following briefly described the major changes that have occurred in the Zhao Mansion, keeping the family in danger and supporting each other. The process of overcoming difficulties is written in a romantic way and seems to be in front of my eyes. There are many sufferings and fears, but there are more warm and peaceful, rendering the image of Nguyen's calmness, gentleness and gentleness vividly and vividly.

In the next few paragraphs, the strokes turned sharply, and she actually began to elaborate on the various kinds of poisoning and dystocia until her blood was exhausted and she died. In order to keep the child, how did she struggle desperately to survive; knowing that both the mother and the fetus are in danger of desperation, how did she resolutely abandon herself and keep the child. With layers of peeling brushwork, she is soft on the outside and firm on the inside, revealing her most affectionate side.

Her voice calls and shouts before her death, accompanied by Guan Suyi's choking chanting, seemed to rang at the altar, touching her ears, causing the relatives, friends and nobles in the audience to burst into tears and tears. Even the monks who had never felt sorrow or joy, and who had been enlightened, interrupted the scriptures, knocked the wooden fish into chaos, and had to stop to wipe their tears. They had never heard such a melancholy sacrificial ritual, which made people feel like they were on the spot and empathize with them. They wanted to open the coffin and shake the dead desperately, crying and begging her to come back to life.

The chanting stopped, and the singing continued. Everyone listened carefully with tears.

The last few paragraphs finally escaped from the extremely tragic scene, and began to describe the scene of the arrival of the newborn. He spit out a mouthful of amniotic fluid, and then cried loudly; when he held it in his arms, he automatically grabbed his auntie's lapels, his little hands were soft but so powerful; he lay down beside his mother and said goodbye to her. The breath of death was dissipated, and the mother's wide-open eyes slowly closed, and she left in contentment.

After three consecutive revolutions, it rose and fell. After crying, he would laugh, but he wanted to cry even after he laughed. A sacrificial essay with less than a thousand characters silenced the entire Guoyin Temple, only the remaining voice choked and burst into tears. Reverberating in the air. Don't say that the relatives who come and go frequently, the nobles who have never known each other, have crying red eyes for this gentle and strong mother, and have broken their liver and intestines.

Guan Suyi's voice was completely hoarse, and he was about to put the sacrificial text into the brazier, but was firmly grasped by one hand, and when he looked sideways, he was actually Master Xuanguang.

His eyes were red, and his clothes were soaked. Apparently he had just cried. Having done so many rituals and saved so many dead souls, this is the first time he has interrupted chanting because of a sacrificial text. But he loves writing and is fascinated, and he must not let this sorrowful strange writing be burned.

"The master of Guan's pen is superb, emotional and touching, breaking the limits of the metric, and creating the top of the eulogy. This memorial written with tears and blood in the heart is enough to make the dead sleep peaceful, and the living are relieved. We need to recite the sutras. Wen? Guan Donor, please put this article in front of the spirit and don’t burn it, otherwise the poor monk will worry day by day and feel uneasy.” He took the manuscript carefully, packed it in a sandalwood box, and placed it in On the sacrificial table, he put his hands together and prayed for three times.

He had heard about the prosperity of Guan Jia's literary name, and he had read a lot of the works of Mr. Guan and Guan's father, but he was shocked when he didn't listen to this memorial article.

Mrs. Guan breaks the parallel and breaks away, does not follow the imitation of the present, does not stick to the form, not trapped in the routine, the writing follows the heart, and the feelings come to mind. The entire text is cast in tears and rendered in blood, making sorrow into the bones and grief into the heart. How can the world bear it?

Master Xuanguang recalled the words and sentences repeatedly, his eyes were red and tears fell, and he regarded this sacrificial essay as the most outstanding in the world and the most famous in the literary world. Talking about the tyranny of the pen, and the love of the scene, Mrs. Guan stood in front of the stage, not to mention Xu Guangzhi, even her grandfather and father had to retreat.

Today, most of the people who come to worship are rich and powerful, as well as relatives and friends of the two great literary families of the relevant clan and the Zhong clan. Those who are proficient in literary and ink are unknown, and they are all mundane and full of emotions, and they are more touched than Master Xuanguang.

"This essay should be regarded as the top of the sacrificial essay, and the ultimate in mourning!" A Hongru praised with tears, and the rest choked to echo, which was beyond words.

Father Guan and Father Guan quickly waved their hands and humbled themselves, but they were proud of the jewel in their hands. They know that Yiyi's writing of this article is not for fame, but for rectification. The scene of laparotomy and child extraction is **** and terrifying to ordinary people. But she used Nguyen’s perspective to describe this passage. All the blood has turned into a motherly love that is forgotten to live and a sorrow that is too strong to dissolve; all the horrors have turned into the ultimate joy of the arrival of the newborn and the joy of the future life. Hope.

When this poem is beautiful and vulgar, and the sincere and moving sacrificial text spreads, no one will abuse the enchantress or ghost, but will only remember Ruan's chastity and loneliness. This is the power of words.

When the crowd around the altar was crying in sorrow, the Emperor Sheng Yuan in the white dragon fish suit stood in an inconspicuous corner, listening silently and staring quietly.

"This is the first time I shed tears for irrelevant people." He turned back to look at Bai Fu, tears in his eyes.

"Your Majesty, Your Majesty, the madam wrote so well, it's so touching, let the slaves, let the slaves cry for a while. The gods killed the Miao people, they poisoned the Zhao Mansion and killed Ruan and his children. People will be separated forever and never see again. Uuuu..." Bai Fu burst into tears, crying out of breath.

Emperor Shengyuan didn't blame him, he waited until he cried enough before whispering an order, "Go and ask your wife to come to the backyard wing, I want to talk to her."

Bai Fu didn't dare to delay, blew out a tube of nose and wiped it clean with a kerchief, and then surreptitiously left.

Guan Suyi was exhausted after the first day’s ceremonies. He heard that Master Xuanzang had asked him to discuss the next day’s ceremonies with him. He hurried to the backyard before he even had time to drink tea, and opened the door as soon as he opened the door. He was pulled into a broad and warm chest, hugged tightly, and clasped tightly.

"Asshole thing, you're here again!" Her cheeks flushed with anger, her eyes spit fire, and she clenched fists with both hands to beat the man's back, but only felt that it hit the copper wall and the iron wall, and the joints were painful.

"Don't hit, be careful of hurting your hands." Sheng Yuandi held her wrist and gently pulled the hoop to his side.

"Madam, let me hug me for a while? I'm very sad." He buried his cheek in the neck of Mrs. Xinxiang, begging in a muffled voice.

Guan Suyi noticed a wet shoulder, and it seemed that tears had soaked the cloth and touched the skin, making him a little dazed. This person was crying, but the dignified emperor fell in his ears and cried. Why? Or-for whom?

She stopped struggling and waited quietly. When this person's emotions eased, she said in a deep voice, "The emperor, please look up and see where this is, and what am I wearing? I perform such frivolousness at the ritual of my younger brothers and sisters. Don't you feel ashamed of the matter?"

Emperor Shengyuan slowly raised his head and said naturally, "How can it be considered frivolous just to cry for a moment while holding my wife? What I did is completely in line with the solemn and sorrowful feelings of the sacrificial ceremony."