Faithful to Buddha, Faithful to You

Chapter 3: Finally Knowing Where

The next morning, the camp was pulled out. My body has recovered, eating people's homes, so I want to help. But I can't compare my practical skills to my theoretical level, and I don't understand what they're saying. I've helped a lot in cleaning up my tent. Fortunately, the men and women were very nice and didn't say anything about the mess. Of course, even I don't understand.

They emptied a camel to make it easier for me, the extra person, but my Han suit had wide sleeves and I couldn't get on a camel until my ankle skirt was pulled on my feet. Thought it would cross over to Qin Han, so I wore a typical Han Dynasty dress. I looked at the misplaced dress and spit on the little monk helplessly.

He smiled gently and mumbled at the older woman. Shortly afterwards, they brought their clothes. I'm getting dressed, it's a little big. I can't help it. Who calls these people the universal plus size? Narrow left shoulder sleeve, bare right shoulder, robe to knee, front flap, lantern pants underneath, knee-high boots, oh, quite stylish. Han Dynasty women who dare to wear outerwear? Most importantly, camels are easy to get up and down. The desert was still cold in the morning, and the little monk grabbed me a shawl.

On the count, there are almost sixty people in this team, and there are only five women, including me. With the exception of that little monk, more than fifty other men are military in appearance, armed with heavy weapons - long swords. Look at their statues, they're all centered on the mothers and children who go home.

I'm a little wondered if I've ever met a monk nun with a squire, or a monk nun with a small army. If you look at the way they put their hands up in the podium, the identities of the two men are definitely different. Since the little monk is the highest level of Chinese in the group, his beautiful mother is far less Chinese than him, I often ride with him to listen to the situation.

Communication is difficult, but there is still a lot to know.

I asked him if he knew who owned the Chinese dynasty. He thought about making a sound like QINQING for half a day. Then it should be Qin. It can't be Qing. The Group stated that the crossing machine could only resonate with some 2,000 years.

And I asked him where he learned Chinese, and he did it for half a day, and I understood part of it, and it was two Chinese brothers who taught him in tunes. Little monk said he had only learned Chinese for a few months and had not spoken Chinese for five years, so he spoke poorly.

I was surprised. He can never look older than sixteen, which means he learned at the age of ten or eleven. At that young age, not to mention five years, we can still have the current level. Memory is remarkable. I studied German in college for two years without touching it, now I remember ICHLIEBEDICH (I love you), let me talk to the Germans, it must be chicken-to-duck.

As I landed in the desert, I could think of either the western realm or Mongolia. So I asked the monk if he knew the Silk Road, and he didn't understand. But he started nodding when I explained that silk tea had been sold from the Han Dynasty in China to the great food (now Arab countries), Persia (now Iran) and Daqin (now Rome). He said the song was on the way. Hearing him say that, I think I see the light of hope.

Then I desperately recalled the place names related to the Silk Road, Yan Zheng, Shan Shan, Shule (now Xinjiang Kash region), Lulan, Hetian (now Xinjiang Hetian), Gaochang (now Xinjiang Turpan region), Usun (now Xinjiang Yili region), Dunhuang... some he thought about, responding to a similar pronunciation from me, some very vague. When I spoke of Turtles, I suddenly stopped. QIUCI. The two pronunciations are similar. Isn't he from Turtles, the most culturally advanced and important country on the Silk Road?

I looked at him and read Turtles again, and he thought, nodding, pointing at himself. God, I finally figured out where I was. I'm in the west!!! Western realm of Qin Dynasty!!!

So the Turtles I met were the Torchers. Remember reading the information that the Turtles were ancestors of the Great Moon, also known as the Spitfire. Long skull, tall nose, deep eyes, thin lips, and white skin, is a primitive Indo-European race. The Turquoise ended their stray lives in the first millennium BC, settling in the garage, in the garage, in the area of Turpan. While traveling in Xinjiang, I went to a number of museums. Most interesting of all, the dry corpses of more than 3,000 years ago were still intact. It was easy to see the characteristics of the Europeans on the face. The most famous was Lulan Beauty. But it's probably because the Turtles are on the Silk Road, mixed races, and the Turtles are rounder than the Indian and European faces today.

I was immediately depressed after the excitement. The western realm of the Qin Dynasty has few records, only the Han Dynasty has a "western realm transmission”. The history of the western realm in the memory of the Han people begins with the Han Wu Dynasty: Zhang Zhongtong West realm, and the pro-usun, the garrison in Tuntan, and Hun Nu you fought for me for centuries. But knowing that I arrived in the age of Qin, I was still looking forward to it. I have to hurry to Chang 'an. Maybe I can meet the great turmoil at the end of Qin, and meet people like Lei Guanglu.

Once again, I expressed my desire to hurry back to Chang 'an, and the little monk pondered that it could be arranged. But it will take a year to get there. And the war is flying. It's dangerous.

Already started? Then I can't hold off. I was happy to say it didn't matter. He looked at me strangely and his pale grey eyes were full of surprises. I don't know how to tell him a girl why she's so interested in war, just laughing.

It's almost noon. The autumn noon sun was still hot, and I wrapped my scarf around my head for sun protection. The little monk flips the monk's robe down and exposes his right shoulder naked, and his wheat skin shines with a youthful, healthy glow in the sun. This monastic uniform, which reveals its right shoulder, is a common outfit for Geranium and Western monks. Later, Buddhism spread to the Chinese plains, and the form of monastic obedience changed. This is due to local conditions, because India is hot and the western region is situated on the desert walls, with large temperature variations. Sooner or later, this clothing is perfect for the weather.

Then I saw his face blush and his eyes drifted away and he stopped looking at me. That's when I realized that I had been staring at his monk's uniform for too long, and I couldn't help but talk. This style of monk uniform I've only seen in the mural. When I see a real person wearing it, I look down and forget even the manners. Couldn't tell him I was studying, had to smile and hide.

Reaching a little jungle, we rest for a while. Waiters have long been putting up simple tents and picking up fried noodle soup. When the hot noodle soup is in the western realm of compressed biscuits - when the stomach is tucked down, the whole person is comfortably trapped. After eating, the mother and son read in the tent, and put a roll of scripture on their knees. I was curious, and I jumped in surprise.

The scripture is written on silk, and the text is very strange, and it's supposed to be alphabetical, and it's lined up with a lot of 8 like the original and the horizontal. I don't know him, but I've never eaten pork. I've always seen a pig run, and this should be the long-lost spitting Rowan. It is the oldest original Indo-European language known to date, developed using the Indian Brazilian alphabet, which has not yet been fully deciphered.

I was so excited to lay down and pick up a book on the handsome man's knee and mumble in his mouth: “Oh, my God, this is Spitfire Rowen. Spitfire Rowen!” How valuable would it be to bring this complete scroll back to modern times?

The beautiful nun frowned. The little monk was startled by me at first and asked me strangely: “Do you know him? This is Turzvain, not Spitfire. ”

Oh, by the way, the word "Spitfire" is named after the Germans, and the Turtles in front of them certainly don't call themselves "Spitfire”. But in modern times, everyone has accepted this term. I laughed, staring at the twisted words like 8, and discovered for myself a living spitting Rowan leap.

I study history, I can rehearse the lost language, and the value of this history is immeasurable. To be able to decipher dead text, how many linguists spend their lives searching for it in a pile of scrap paper? The eighteenth-century French businessman decoded Egyptian hieroglyphics, solved thousands of years of mysteries, and the result was a famous history. And now the spewing Rowen is incomplete, so if I can read the spewing Rowen...

I grabbed Little Monk's wide sleeve: “Please, teach me to spit fire. Oh, no, Turtleman! ”

He starts off stunned and answers the question, “Do you know Chinese? ”

I was stunned: “Of course. ”

He turned and talked to the beautiful nun. The beautiful nun looked at me and said something back to him. The fact that two people are talking makes me feel less and less bottomless. When he was worried that he might be rejected, he looked back at me with a slight naughty smile in his light grey eyes: "I can teach you, but you have to teach me Chinese. ”

I shouted out, so it was a fair exchange, that's fine.

“Absolutely.” I hesitated and added, "But I am not familiar with the Buddha scripture, but teaching Chinese characters, speaking poetry, passing on left-hand warring national policy, it's okay. ”

I study history, not Buddhism. The history of Buddhism can be told a little bit, but when it comes to scripture Buddhism Three Tibetans, I know six of the seven - none. I regret it now. I should have done more Buddhist lessons, knowing that wearing it would work with monks.

“You don't need the Buddha scripture, just what you say.” He looked happy with a warm smile on his eyebrows.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that the Buddhist scriptures of Zhongyuan had been translated from Sanskrit and Western languages. He was a Turtle monk. Did he use the Buddhist scriptures to learn Chinese from me? The Han monks learned from him more or less.

Some interesting things were discovered that day: the mother and child stopped eating after lunch. The ancients ate only two meals, while the monks were stricter. I remember that the monks did not eat after lunch. Asked him, he told me in unfamiliar Chinese that the commandment stipulated that food could be eaten between the morning and noon and that it could not be eaten beyond noon until the next morning.

The reason for this ring is that a Buddha disciple begged in the evening, and because of the lack of light, a pregnant woman thought that he was a ghost charm and caused an abortion due to excessive fright, the Buddha made this ring. But for sick people, or working people, you have to eat to maintain your strength, so you can still eat dinner.

I nodded. Mind is, during the Buddha's era, most of it was Zen sitting, and it didn't consume much energy, so there was no problem not eating after lunch. But when Buddhism came to China, monks ate dinner. This precept was modified because in Nakahara, most monks had to work in the fields. It can be seen that changing the precepts from place to place at different times also reflects the flexibility of Buddhism, and no wonder it has lasted more than 2,000 years.

It's also interesting to watch them eat and drink water. The maids use the same thing as a net pocket and filter it before passing it on to them. I was just beginning to think the water in the desert was impurities, salt and alkali, so I had to filter it. But it's strange to see that you drink water without filtration.

He explained to me in a kowtow that the monks drank water to filter it in order to prevent them from drinking it together into their stomachs, causing unintentional killings. Therefore, according to the precepts, monks must carry filters with them and must not leave their place of residence for more than twenty miles without them.

After this explanation, I immediately remembered that Xuan, in a desert of desert smokeless people, had knocked over the water in his leather bag and almost died of thirst. And the reason he knocks over precious water is because he follows the commandments too strictly.

I sat by the campfire outside the tent at night and took note of everything that was witnessed. On top of his head, the stars fought brilliantly, dotting in the dark blue sky.

In the 21st century, in Xinjiang, I looked up at this clean and unblemished sky in the middle of the night, and I wondered if the ancients had looked at the same day as I did. And the stars and nights that I see now will be the purity that I looked back at a thousand years from now? This problem caught me in contemplation, but I couldn't figure it out. Two of me in parallel space, looking up at the dome at the same time? I, for my part, what kind of existence is it?