Shen Le entered the Daoist temple—no, from the moment it came within sight, he had felt like a mouse that had fallen into a rice bin.
This Daoist temple had halls, pavilions, and residences of every size, built according to the terrain without rigidly following traditional architectural layouts. Its roofs rose and fell at varying heights, creating an exceptionally dynamic appearance.
The ridge beasts crouching along the eaves came in unusual forms, and many of them were things he had never seen before.
Even passing through an utterly ordinary doorway and turning his head could bring him an enormous surprise: painted on the backs of the two wooden doors was a pair of Nezha images with three heads and six arms.
The paintings had been made who knew how many years ago and had even faded somewhat, yet their lines were fluid, their forms rounded and full, their colors vivid and bold. The whole work brimmed with life.
That pair of door paintings alone made Shen Le stop and snap seven or eight photos from every angle, wishing he could tear off the entire door panel and scan it...
And that door was merely a tiny glimmer among a long string of surprises. Shen Le had also seen a lotus-leaf-shaped water basin beneath the eaves, carved from a single piece of bluestone.
The little lions on the railings around the main hall all looked different. Some tilted their heads, some winked, some stuck out their tongues; each had its own mischievous charm.
The roof tiles and eave-end tiles looked similar at first glance, but every single one differed upon closer inspection. The builders had clearly put a great deal of thought into them.
In the courtyard behind the hall, black and white pebbles had been arranged into a Bagua pattern,