Dimensional Bookstore

In the evening, the street was shrouded in a light mist, and the wind was filled with cool water vapor. The hustle and bustle of the world and the hustle and bustle of traffic dissolved in the mist, floating like a fairyland.

Le Jing stopped a taxi, put the big bag in his hand into the car, then sat in and said to the driver: "Master, go to the West Village in the suburbs."

The driver paused holding the steering wheel, and his eyes swept over a few white paper money sticking out of the bag that was not fastened in the back seat. His face suddenly became subtle: "It's quite far there..."

"I'll add money."

"...How much?"

"One hundred."

"Okay, sit tight!"

On the way, the driver finally couldn't help asking: "What's in your pocket?"

Le Jing answered calmly : "Paper money."

The driver's hand trembled, and his face suddenly looked bad: "Then you go to the West Village in the suburbs..."

"Burn paper money." The young man lowered his eyes, and the driver could not see his expression, but heard his clear voice in the closed and quiet car: "Today is the Zhongyuan Festival."

The driver suddenly realized: "Yes, I forgot about this." He sighed, and cast a melancholy look at the busy traffic outside the car: "After you finish this order, I will go home and go nowhere."

Le Jing also cast his eyes out of the window, and there were ghosts outside the window, and the yin air was filled.

Today is the Zhongyuan Festival, also known as the Ghost Festival, which is a traditional Chinese sacrificial festival.

On this day, the gates of hell are wide open, and the ghosts in the underworld can return to the world to visit their relatives in the world of the living. Relatives in the world of the living express their grief for their deceased relatives by burning paper money.

The distance between the living and the dead has never been so close.

The driver carefully glanced at the young man who was looking out the window thoughtfully, and felt uneasy for some reason. When he thought of the young man's destination, he was even more worried.

Who would burn paper money in such a remote place?

If he hadn't been reluctant to part with the 100 yuan, he would have refused to take the ride.

...

The night fell, the sun disappeared in the sky, and the bright and soft moonlight gently sprinkled on the ground. The night wind was cool, and a few white paper money rolled up from somewhere, adding a bit of desolation to the night.

Le Jing squatted at the entrance of the village, with several huge black bags piled around him, all filled with paper money. He put only a small part of it in the taxi, and put the rest of the big head into Le Ling's personal space.

The ghosts in old and tattered military uniforms silently surrounded him in the middle. With the dim night light, Le Jing carefully looked at the young and tender faces, and many familiar faces had disappeared among them. These days, with the help of Le Jing, many of their relatives came here to help them collect their bones, so that they could enjoy incense and offerings after death.

But there are still many people whose descendants are unwilling to come from afar to help them collect their bodies, and they have not received paper money for many years.

They served their country loyally during their lifetime, but no one worshipped them after their death. Most people in the world are unfeeling. Le Jing did not want to let the martyrs down.

Keynes took out a few pieces of paper money from his pocket and handed them to Le Jing, who piled them in the brazier and lit them with a lighter. Then he looked up at the ghost soldiers in old military uniforms surrounding him, and said solemnly: "Now the mountains and rivers are still there, the country is peaceful and the people are safe, your bloody battles have not been in vain, and you can rest in peace."

The flames curled, and the paper money emitted wisps of green smoke. Suddenly, a strong wind came, carrying the paper money away.

In Le Jing's eyes, these paper money appeared in the hands of the ghost soldiers on the opposite side after they were burned out. He burned a large bag until every ghost received the paper money.

The square-faced youth in the lead clenched the paper money in his hand and smiled slightly: "Because of the merits of the battalion commander in his lifetime, he was appointed as a ghost messenger a few days ago. We, the lonely ghosts, have also benefited from this and become non-staff personnel. In the future, we will also be people who eat public grain."

Le Jing first congratulated him, and then asked: "Are you not going to reincarnate?"

The square-faced youth shook his head, his eyes were peaceful: "Once reincarnated, we will forget the past." He smiled embarrassedly: "I think some things need to be remembered after all." He looked at the vast night behind Le Jing, his eyes were deeply attached: "And we want to see this peaceful and prosperous world for a few more years."

"So, we'll leave." Under the leadership of the square-faced youth, the ghost army saluted Le Jing in unison: "Good and evil will eventually be rewarded, and heaven will have a good cycle. Wang Jun sticks to his original intention and takes care."

"I will."

Le Jing didn't put down his raised hand until the ghost army disappeared. After the ghost army left, those lonely ghosts who had no one to worship dared to approach Le Jing.

Le Jing squatted down again and lit the paper money. The paper money that flew away with the wind was snatched by the ghosts. Le Jing looked up at the bright moon disk. The moon he saw now was the same moon that his ancestors saw hundreds of years ago.

Some people say that the Chinese have no faith, but Le Jing doesn't think so.

The Chinese have faith.

They believe in their ancestors.

And burning paper money, just like Christians praying to God, is a way for the Chinese to express their grief, look forward to the future, and convey their feelings. The burning paper money flew into the sky, as if the ancestors really heard their prayers and responded to them. The living and the dead completed a special communication in this way. And the living also increased their awe of death.

When on Earth, some Chinese people denounced the burning of paper money as a feudal superstition that creates pollution, and called on everyone to resist this ignorant behavior. Le Jing felt that the person who made this suggestion was a typical keyboard warrior and a rational person.

Only by imagining the world of the dead and the simple values ​​of cause and effect can the living have awe for death and life. This awe makes the world a better place.

You may not choose this way to pay tribute to your ancestors, but you are not qualified to stop others from doing so.

As Le Jing walked, he threw the burning paper money into the air, and the howling ghosts cheered and followed him, starting a grand parade at this moment when the ghost gate was wide open.

Le Jing slowly walked out of the deserted village, and there were gradually scattered residents around. On this special day, every household had their doors closed, and there were sparks at the intersection, smoke, paper money flying, and faint sobs drifting in the wind.

Li Juan sat at the crossroads, mechanically putting paper money into the burning brazier, her eyes were red and swollen, her tears had dried up in the day and night crying.

"Nannan, mommy has brought you money." She said in a hoarse voice: "You should be good over there, don't worry about mommy, mommy is fine. Don't play around, you should reincarnate quickly..." She choked and could hardly speak: "Then you will still be my daughter, okay? Mommy is still young and can still get pregnant. If you reincarnate too late, mommy is afraid that she will not be able to wait for you...you will become someone else's daughter..."

"Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva who saves the suffering." Li Juan knelt down and closed her eyes and prayed devoutly: "I am willing to shorten my life by ten years in exchange for my beloved daughter's health and happiness in the next life."

As if the Bodhisattva appeared, the few unburned paper money in the basin were blown up by the wind, the flames flickered, and disappeared into the night.

"Nannan, Nannan!" Li Juan stood up suddenly from the ground, staggered and almost fell down, she tried her best to squeeze out a broken breath from her throat: "It's you, right? You came to see mom, right? You heard what mom said, right?"

Li Juan shouted hoarsely towards the vast night: "Mom is waiting for you! Nannan, mom is waiting for you!"

"Are you burning paper for your daughter?" A clear male voice suddenly came from behind, which seemed extremely strange at such a time of year. Li Juan's shoulders trembled with fear, and she turned around and could barely see that there were two young people, one tall and one short. The short one was in front, holding the same paper money as Li Juan, and the tall one was behind, and seemed to be holding something in his hand.

They were just poor people like her.

After thinking this through, Li Juan was not nervous or afraid at all. She nodded and said hoarsely, "Yes."

The short young man nodded to Li Juan's side, and his voice was more smiling: "Don't worry, your daughter will come back."

Li Juan smiled bitterly, taking this as the young man's words of comfort. Although she said this just now, it was just for psychological comfort, and she also knew that this was wishful thinking.

Wait!

She suddenly reacted.

From just now, the young man looked straight at the position beside her. With the bright moonlight, she could see the gentle smile on the young man's face.

She turned her head and looked at the empty side of her, with broken hope in her eyes that she didn't even notice. She asked with a trembling voice: "What are you looking at?"

"Look at your daughter. She is very cute." The young man looked straight at Li Juan's side, squatted down, and answered softly: "She is wearing a yellow skirt, two pigtails, and two sweet dimples at the corners of her mouth."

Li Juan seemed to be struck by lightning. For a moment, her mind was blank. Her lips trembled and she uttered untuned mumbling.

The little girl held her mother's clothes, blinked her big eyes and looked at the young man who was looking at her level with curiosity, and asked in a baby voice: "Big brother, can you see me?"

Le Jing nodded and smiled gently: "Yes."

The little girl smiled sweetly, and the dimples on her cheeks were looming: "Then please tell my mother that the King of Hell has agreed that I can be reborn as my mother's daughter. Tell her not to be sad and not to miss me."

Le Jing stood up and relayed the little girl's words to the woman who was so thin that she was almost out of shape.

"Is this true?" Li Juan grabbed the young man's arm and asked sharply, "You didn't lie to me, did you?"

The young man stretched out his hand and brushed her eyes with pity. She only felt a warm air flow covering her eyes. The next moment when the young man put down his fingers, a crisp child's voice came to her ears: "Mom!"

Li Juan turned her head suddenly, and her movement was so big that she almost flashed her neck. She saw a little girl in a goose yellow skirt smiling sweetly at her.

"Nannan! Nannan!" Li Juan rushed over and cried loudly: "I know Nannan can't bear to leave her mother. I know!"

Le Jing left quietly. Even if she walked far away, she could still hear the woman's joyful cry.

Le Jing smiled and walked quietly in the deep night. For no reason, I remembered two lines of poetry by the exiled immortal:

The living are passers-by, and the dead are returnees.

The world is a hostel, and we share the eternal dust.

Why do many people want to believe in the existence of the afterlife?

Because it means reincarnation of life and death, endless life.

When death is not the destination, but the beginning of another great adventure, then death is nothing to be afraid of.

Perhaps, what people fear is not ghosts, but the lack of afterlife.

The author has something to say:

So, this copy is finished!

The story of Lin Qiao and Xu Mu, let's just treat it as an open ending.

I don't want to continue writing, probably because I can't bear it.

When a love is mixed with killing, blood and trickery, then such love is destined to have nothing to do with beauty. I don't want to write about such an ugly love, because the tragedy is already doomed.

I downloaded a copy, it will be very short, it is a stalk I have imagined for a long time: if everyone is born from a tree, they are eighty years old at birth, and then they will be one year younger every year, and then they will stop breathing at the age of 0, return to the tree, and wait to be born again. I want to write such an interesting story. Because it's just a brain hole, it may be finished in one shot 233333