Jiang Wang had been gone for a long time.
In the ruined temple on Three Treasures Mountain, the monk Jingli sat quietly in meditation.
Monks had renounced the world, but if one had never had a "home" to begin with, where could one renounce it from?
With an ancient Buddha and a blue lamp, cultivators withdrew from the world. But if one had never been part of the world, what was there to withdraw from?
Ever since he could remember, he had never known what family was. He had never seen his parents. Kujue had raised him with his own hands.
Some young novice monks missed their fathers and mothers and cried.
He did not know what to miss.
In this so-called murky world, he had no one upon whom to rest his "longing."
He lived amid Sanskrit Chants, rolled about in heaps of Buddhist scriptures, and grew up to the sound of temple bells. Sometimes, he would wonder: what was a "home"?
Why did one have to "leave" it? Why was it said to be so hard to part with?
His master said that being together made them a family.
Then he understood. He found it hard to part.
Then he was a little monk seeking a "home" within the Buddhist fold.
His world was very simple, and this was his home.
His master said Jiang Wang was his junior fellow disciple, so he had gained another family member.
What a happy thing that was.
That was why he was always happy whenever he saw Jiang Wang.
He was very happy, and he hoped his junior fellow disciple would be just as happy.
But only today did he learn that his junior fellow disciple was unhappy. That his junior fellow disciple had borne such weight, step by step, to