The old things I repaired have become fine

Chapter 347: The teacher who taught the song is still alive, and the girl who washed the silk remembers her journey together

Shen Le followed the Buddha statue with a confused look on his face. From the desolate farmyard with green lanterns and ancient Buddhas, to the Qinhuai River with lights, wine, music and singing:

No, wait, what are you doing!
It’s only been a few days since Emperor Chongzhen hanged himself!

Li Zicheng just occupied the capital!

The wild boar skin is about to hit you!

To put it another way, even if you don't know about the wild boar skin, you should know that the emperor is dead and the capital has fallen. Now everyone should unite as one, work hard, and aim to restore the country!

What are you doing?
The Qinhuai River is a beautiful river. On one side is the Imperial Examination Hall, where talented scholars from all over the country come in an endless stream, chanting and discussing poetry, books, history and politics. Across the river are various river houses, flower boats, and music...

Basically, the talented people who came to the Imperial Examination Hall would either stay inside the hall and not go out, ignoring what was happening outside and focusing on reading the books of sages. But if they took a step outside or looked at the other side of the river, what would happen?
What a thing, with carved railings and painted thresholds, brocade windows and silk screens, and a pearl curtain that stretches ten miles, with the host and the guest greeting each other.

It is even more amazing at night. Every flower boat is hung with various lanterns, like a winding fire dragon, illuminating the sky and the earth, from the Jubaomen Water Gate to the Tongjimen Water Gate.

As the Buddha statue was carried in from the back door, Shen Le could hear the chirping of birds and the constant greetings:
"Brother-in-law is here! Brother-in-law is here!"

"Xiao Hong, serve the tea!"

The sound was a bit strange. Shen Le leaned over and saw a snow-colored parrot under the eaves, making a constant noise.

The most amazing thing is that it doesn’t yell at everyone it sees. It doesn’t yell when a maid passes by it, and it doesn’t yell when a heavily made-up woman passes by it.

Even when a handsome boy was arranging flowers, burning incense, wiping the piano table, or adjusting the position of the clothes hanger in the room, it didn't cry.

Only when a real guest came did the parrot start to shout. After just two words, a passing maid gently hit it and added a spoonful of millet to its food container:
"Alright! Snow-clad slave, you're the best! Tea is already served, don't shout anymore!"

People were talking and laughing here, and over there, the Buddha statue was being taken around and finally sent to the most elegant and cleanest boudoir in the river house.

The bed and couch were exquisitely carved, the curtains and drapes were elegantly embroidered. Toothpicks and jade shafts were piled up on the tables, and jade harps and zithers were displayed on both sides. Incense smoke was lingering in the air, and the eaves were decorated with martens.

Looking out from the boudoir, there is an old plum tree on the left, with a vigorous shape that can be put into a painting; on the right are two sycamore trees, like giant umbrellas covering the small building, and dozens of giant bamboos, rustling and solemn.

Shen Le walked inside, looking left and right, completely overwhelmed:
"No way... the ancients lived a luxurious life, could they have done this?"

No heating?

What's the point of not having heating? A huge copper furnace? A copper tripod? Filled with silver frost charcoal, sprinkled with a handful of god-knows-what incense, lit, and covered with a fumigation cage.

It can keep you warm and provide a place for leaning. When there are no guests, the servants will put your skirt on the fumigation basket, and soon your skirt will be filled with fragrance.

No refrigerator?

Who needs a refrigerator? With a sumptuous banquet and a full house of guests, every family has freshly cooked and served food.

Shen Le had never eaten or even seen the various delicacies that came up like water. The craftsmanship of the proprietress focused on the exquisite ingredients, which could be said to be very sophisticated.

As for the exquisiteness, elegance, or even the allusions, sorry, just dream on...

As for no TV, no games, and no various entertainment?

Please, the Qinhuai River at that time was the best entertainment place in the world!

A banquet was held in the center, with beautiful ladies sitting together, chirping and laughing. Various performances were presented one after another, and Shen Le heard the guests whispering:

"Zhang Mao's flute is still so elegant..."

"Zhang Kui's flute sounds a little sad today..."

"Wu Zhangfu's string instruments and Qian Zhongwen's ten-piece drums are a perfect match..."

"Liu Jingting's storytelling..."

and many more?

The Biography of Liu Jingting is in the textbook! Did I see the real person?!
During the whole night of feasting, Shen Le was dazzled by the colors and ears were filled with sounds. He only regretted that the memory given by the copper piece was not detailed enough, so he could not taste all the dishes.

Wait until the music and singing return to the courtyard, the lights go on in the tower, and then wait until the guests fall asleep in the beauty's arms, and then leave the next day when they are exhausted.

The entire riverside house fell into silence, and Shen Le saw a girl of fifteen or sixteen in plain clothes quietly walk in and bow down in front of the Buddha statue:

"To the great and merciful Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva who saves the suffering and the distressed, I, a believer, respectfully pay homage to you:
I am unfortunate and have been living in the dust. I do not seek wealth and honor, nor do I dare to marry a good man. I only hope that one day I can live in peace and contentment.

I wish to give away medicine in summer and porridge in winter, wear plain clothes and eat vegetables, so as to accumulate blessings and virtues..."

She murmured for a long time, then lowered her head, knelt on the cushion, and recited the Heart Sutra in a low voice.

After a long while, a 30-year-old heavily made-up woman quietly walked in and put her hand on her shoulder:

"Daughter, why are you chanting here? You worked hard last night and need to have a good rest today. In two hours, guests will come again..."

"Mom, I always feel uneasy." The plain-clothed woman did not turn around and smiled bitterly:

"The previous emperor passed away, and the capital fell into the hands of thieves. This is a time for heroes to be inspired, but look, sisters, these men coming and going here..."

There are high-ranking officials, celebrities, generals who claim to be able to save the country, and talented people who claim to be able to restore the country.

However, he socialized and feasted by the Qinhuai River every day, criticized current ills, and claimed to be so virtuous... How could he restore the country while staying by the Qinhuai River?

At least you should go train and fight!
The heavily made-up woman sighed slightly. Shen Le, standing aside, also sighed:

It is said that a merchant girl does not know the sorrow of losing her country. Even a girl from the music school can see the current situation. However, those generals, those ministers, those talented people, those meat eaters...

"But what else can we do..."

The heavily made-up woman gently rubbed her daughter's shoulders and said in a low voice:

"We are registered girls in the music school. We cannot run away privately, nor can we refuse to receive customers. The concept of integrity and chastity is just a joke to us...

Apart from asking for the blessing of the Bodhisattva, people like us have no other options..."

She also took a stick of incense and lit it, then knelt down beside her daughter and silently chanted. After a long while, the woman in plain clothes whispered:
"Mom, will the Bodhisattva bless us?"

"Yes... Bodhisattva is the most compassionate... With a thousand hands and a thousand eyes, he hears the cries of the suffering and saves them... Even for women like us, Bodhisattva will not fail to see it..." Incense was curling up on the altar. The thousand-handed and thousand-eyed Guanyin Bodhisattva had drooped eyelashes and a compassionate look.

Whether they were concubines in the palace or women in the dust, it seemed not to care at all, just looking down on the world and these suffering people equally...

The sun and the moon alternate, time flows. The decadent life along the Qinhuai River was finally crushed by the iron hoof:

First, on the road to Yangzhou, the spring breeze of ten miles turned the trees and ponds into wasteland, and then the army swept everything, and all the prosperity was gone like clouds.

The shabby house is empty, but in those days the bed was full of wats; the grass and poplars are withered, but it was once a singing and dancing place.

The army was everywhere, and everyone fled in panic. The intricately carved, gilded and painted Buddha statue, after many hardships, was finally left in a dilapidated temple deep in the mountains.

All the gold foil on his body was once again scraped away to exchange for a little bit of rice to temporarily fill his stomach...

Shen Le squatted in the nunnery with a blank look on his face, facing the Buddha statue silently. How many times has this happened? How many times has the gold foil on his body been stripped off?
At least it's the second time, right?

Why didn't I notice this when I was repairing it?
The gold foil was peeled off, and there were scratches on the base layer. I should at least have seen them, right?
I'm too inexperienced...

The gold foil was stripped off, the painted parts were damaged, and the Buddha statues were bumped and dented, and now they are buried deep in the temple, buried in the world.

Living in the mountains is hard. You have to walk one or two hills away to find a few old men collecting firewood and a few young men clearing the land.

As for going into the temple to worship Buddha and light a stick of incense, I'm sorry, but you can't even support yourself, so how can you have the mind to worship Buddha?
One year, two years, three years, five years. Finally, a woman in plain clothes, haggard and dusty, walked into the nunnery with lotus steps:
"Let's stop here. No need to see me off." She closed the door behind her, raised her head slightly, and whispered to the person outside:

"In the future... we don't have to meet again... Master Zhang is right. Where the country is, where the home is, where the king is, where the father is... This little bit of love between Huayue should also be cut off..."

She knelt down in front of the lotus platform, prayed silently, and rolled up her long black hair. She took out a pair of scissors, made up her mind, and cut it hard:
"Thanks to the Bodhisattva for blessing me, I can live out my life here... From now on, I will shave my head and leave my body to the monastery. From now on, I will never be involved in the secular world again..."

She used her delicate hands, the hands that once played the piano and painted, to vigorously crank the windlass, fetch water with buckets, clean the Buddha statues, clean the temple, pull out weeds, and make fire to cook...

She gets up early in the morning to clean up the weeds, and returns home in the moonlight, carrying a hoe. She is a weak woman, living quietly in the nunnery. Although her life is hard, she is self-reliant.

A year or two later, another well-dressed woman came to the nunnery, surrounded by people. The sisters met and held hands without saying a word. After a long while, the well-dressed woman sighed:
"Your life is too miserable... At least, take in a few children, so you can have someone to help you..."

"Why would I accept someone like me?" The black-robed nun smiled bitterly.
"I am already this old, working in the fields alone. Those who know me will believe that I will never be a prostitute again. If I take in a few more children, will this be a nunnery, or will it be..."

The heavily made-up woman sighed. She took the nun's hand and walked slowly around the nunnery. There were only three small rooms, dark and damp, with a musty smell in the corners.

She looked at it and shook her head, and finally whispered:
"Is the place where you used to live still there?"

"It is said that it has been turned into a vegetable garden."

"That old plum tree, the sycamore tree, the bamboo, are all OK?"

"It has been chopped down and used as firewood..."

"Then...your mother..."

"Dead." The nun's eyes were as clear as autumn water. Only in these eyes could one see a little bit of her former elegance and charm.

She raised her head steadily, looking at the compassionate Guanyin Bodhisattva, with no sadness or joy:

"I encountered a group of rebellious soldiers and was stabbed... It was not bad, it was gone quickly, I didn't suffer much..."

The heavily made-up woman could no longer speak. After a long while, she took off her two gold bracelets and placed them in front of the Buddha:
"Please light a stick of incense in front of the Buddha for me. Later, I will send some rice and grain over, and then send someone to help you repair the house... It's not a good idea for you to live like this alone..."

The rice and grain arrived quickly. The well-dressed woman seemed to have found a good husband. Soon, someone came to renovate the temple and build a few small rooms.

There was even a Buddhist shrine with brilliant paintings, which was delivered by a special person. Two porters lifted the Guanyin statue and put it into the shrine, which was upright and just the right size.

The nun's life became a little better. She no longer had to work in the fields and worry about making a living. A few months later, two more girls, one older and one younger, came to her:

"Sister Gu said that you are becoming a monk here... We also want to become monks, can you take us in?"

"Of course... If you are determined to become a monk and practice Buddhism, then you can stay here... Once you enter this door, you can never turn back..."

They moved into the small room one after another. They shaved their heads, put on black clothes, and locked the thousands of strands of black hair and the embroidered clothes they had worn in the cabinet behind the shrine, never to be opened again, as if they were parting with the past.

In daily worship and chanting, in addition to devoutly offering to the Buddha, they also wrote tablets and placed them in the side room:
"Ge Nen...fell into the hands of the bandits, had his tongue chewed into pieces, had blood sprayed on his face, and died resisting the bandits..."

"Dong Bai...was Mao's concubine...died of exhaustion at the age of twenty-seven..."

"Minmin, returned to Yingchuan clan... When the rebellion broke out, Yingchuan clan killed all the concubines, and I heard that Minmin was also among the corpses..."

"Jiaojiao...Yang Longyou returned to Guizhu and died in Minjiao..."

"Zhu Xiaoda...returned to Li Taifu of Zhaoyang. Taifu met with misfortune and his family was destroyed..."

"Wang Yue...was captured by Zhang Xianzhong and kept in the camp, doting on him and dominating the entire camp. He occasionally offended Xianzhong, so he was beheaded, steamed and placed on a plate to be offered to the bandits..."

"Meimei... because her beloved Han Sheng betrayed her, no medicine could cure her, and she died of illness..."

Among the girls who used to wash silk, some wandered around the world, some disappeared, some married into wealthy families, and some kept fast and embroidered Buddha statues.

The scholars who had been friends with them in the past lamented their experiences and recorded their disappearance, but only the sisters of that time sincerely missed them, worshipped them, and prayed for them...

Gradually, some old and homeless entertainers got the news and came here. Some singing girls in their prime donated gold and silk to gild and paint the Buddha statues.

"When we are old and have escaped from the hustle and bustle of life, we hope to return here and live out our lives in peace...

If something unfortunate happens, we hope that this place can offer our tablets and bury our ashes... or at least recite a sutra for us..."

Year after year, generation after generation. The well-dressed woman, called "Sister Gu" by the nuns, married a high-ranking official and protected the first generation of this small nunnery;
After that, more and more lucky prostitutes came into the nunnery, took off their gorgeous clothes, and shaved their heads in front of the Buddha.

The gold foil on the Buddha statue became thicker and thicker, and they also found peace under the Buddha's gaze...

　In the previous chapter, someone questioned how the descendants of King Jin of Ming could resist since they were all raised as pigs. It was the cat that was wrong. The cat did not post the historical materials:

　　"History of Ming Dynasty·Biography No. 4·Kings":
　　Xin'ai, the seventh-generation grandson of Prince Gong, lived in Fenzhou. In the 14th year of Chongzhen, he was appointed as the magistrate of Zhongbu by Zong Gongsheng. There was an incident in another county, and the local bandits took advantage of the opportunity to capture his city, so he was dismissed from office. Later, he was reappointed. When the official heard that the bandits were coming, he wanted to take off his seal and leave. Xin'ai resolutely said, "This is the time when I will die." He immediately accepted it. He got a false edict from the bandits, and he was angry and tore it up, and proposed to resist and defend. The county had just been attacked by bandits, and no one responded, so he asked the elders to leave quickly, and he swore to die. His wife Lu, concubines Xue and Feng, asked to die first. He agreed. He had a daughter who was several years old, and he patted her back and urged her to hang herself. Everyone around cried. He wrote a letter and sealed it, and sent someone to rush to the capital. He wore a hat and robe and bowed to the palace, and also bowed to his mother, and then he committed suicide. The scholars and civilians buried him beside the altar, and buried his wife and daughter with him. Before that, the local bandits attacked the city, and the county magistrate Guangxian was defeated in the battle and burned himself to death. Xindai cried bitterly and wrote a eulogy for him, saying: "He who sacrificed his life for the sake of righteousness is still alive even after death." At this point, Xindai also died.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)