Faithful to Buddha, Faithful to You

Chapter 72 First Dispute (1)

I came out of Monson's house carrying food. At the beginning of New Year's Eve, the snow stopped falling, and the snow dropped down the roof. I look like a bright day, and I think this hard winter is about to pass, right? Seeing Hu Yanping standing as usual at the gate, he shrugged out his heart and lifted his feet towards him.

A slim tall figure came out of the corner of the alley, and the long, pulled figure made me stiff, and the blood clotted all over me. Looking at Hu Yanping, he shook his head helplessly: “Madam, the magician has long suspected...”

I laughed so hard, I should have known. How can Hu Yanping resist Rosh's interrogation? Hand over the food to Hu Yanping and let him go home first, then face Rosh helplessly. He took me to an unmanned alley, looked me in the eye and looked me in the eye and made my scalp numb.

“Why did Monson give you food?” He looked a little blue and had a harsh voice.

I blurred for a moment and said something involuntarily stuttering: “This... he asked me to be a sitter...”

“Oh? For who? Monson has only one son under the age of one. ”

He looked at me sharply and split his head another question: "What did you teach Monson? ”

“Teaching… Teaching history…”

“He's already studied Scripture. Do you need to teach him?” He interrupted me, he said, “Ai Qing, did you tell Monson about his future in exchange for food? ”

“I--”

He was anxious and angry, his eyebrows tight and his voice raised: “Have you forgotten what I said? If these heroes knew you could predict the future, they would try to control you and use you, and you would be in danger. ”

I shook my head. I can't believe I forgot that lying doesn't work in front of him. To be honest, I can relax myself. Take a breath and say, "I didn't tell him the future. I just taught him the most interested king's trick. ”

“The King's Art?” Qingjun's eyebrows frowned even tighter and his sharp eyes glanced at me, "How can a man like Monson be pleased with benevolent morality? ”

“Yes, he does not like it. ”

And I looked up at him, and I calmed down, and I said, “So what I taught him is a thousand years later, a man named Machiavelli wrote The Monarchy." The central idea is that power is above morality. For that purpose, every means is available. Manipulation of power, emphasizing effectiveness, believing that the results can defend the means. ”

“Irene!” He shouted, looked around vigilantly, and lowered his voice to blame, "How can you tell him that? He was ambitious, and listening to what you said would make things worse. ”

“I know, I know I'm promoting the birth of a hero. ”

I greeted Rosh with clear eyes and smiled, “Do you want to know what I say to Monson every day? ”

Looking up at the sky, a bright color of the sky seems to be gradually turning dark. Dropping his heavy head helplessly, he never hated winter as long as he hated it at the moment.

“Poor means may occasionally be used to achieve this end. But it can never be used again. All the damage that must be done should be examined and done in such a way that it is not necessary to repeat these crimes from time to time. In this way, without repeating these crimes, the monarch can reassure and reward the people. ”

I muttered about what today's professor says: how a monarch does evil. In speaking, Monson's eagle eyes couldn't help but blink and hide the excitement. This chapter, right on his stomach.

Eleven years later, Hexi freshly bald and isolated, Lu Guangpai Monson Uncle Luo rebelled, but fought the defeat, Lu Guang killed Luo in anger. Monson took his uncle's hearse back to Lu Shui's hometown, crying to his relatives about Lu Guang's desolation. He stood up and gathered tens of thousands of people in ten days, but he was still weak. Cousin Monson's siege of Kangcheng was incompatible with what had then been sealed as building Taishou. The men's strategy is to reverse the industry, and Zhengli Section is the king. As a result, Duan Ye opened the gates of the city and became the first ruler of Beiliang.

At that time, Monson could not have been more prestigious in any way than the men of the clan. Duan Ye was not enough, Monson wanted to take the upper hand, the first one to be divided is his brother and male adult. So Monson took risks and plotted against each other with a poisonous plan. First the man was promised the sacrifice to Lanmon Mountain, then the man was told to rebel to Dunye. The fact that the man came to ask for the sacrifice of Ramen Mountain is proof of his opposition. Duan Ye Fruit really fell for it and killed Cheng. Thereafter, Duan Ye died in Monson's hands before he knew Monson's cunning.

He couldn't help but shake his head when he listened to how evil the passage was. When he opened his eyes again, Joon frowned tightly and grieved: "Ai Qing, this book of sins, how can you teach people like Monson! You told me he'd sell his brother for king in the future. But he probably listened to you until later. There's a reason for this killing and sin. It's manufacturing! ”

Bite his lip and face his shocked shallow grey eyes, he said in a desolate manner: “I know. But I will not defend myself by saying that history is what it is. And I'm not going to give myself an excuse to keep you alive. You don't have to feel guilty about the food you eat, you don't have to ‘stop eating poppy' like Uncle Bai Qi, I'll take care of all the consequences myself..."

“Irene!” He held me and covered my lips with his hands. His hands were cold and his fingers were full of purple frostbite, wrinkling gray fine lines in the cold wind.

He sighed painfully, unable to reproach him any longer, his eyes revealed, softly whispering in my ear: “From tomorrow on, don't go again...”

I was still covered in his mouth, staring into his eyes and shaking his head slowly. He dropped his hand and looked at me unbelievably.

“Rosh, I'm going tomorrow, day after tomorrow, day after tomorrow. Because that's the only thing I can do to help you. We have very little property to sell now...”

Take a big breath, look at him in the gushing tears, shaking the corner of his mouth and saying what I've been holding in my heart: "Rosh, do you ever wonder why we don't eat enough every day? Why would I sell Monson the art of kings you don't approve of? ”

I gasped and my voice ached. "Because we've accommodated more than two hundred people, we're going to split our food into two hundred portions! Without them, we could have lived this winter without worry. ”

Bean-sized tears accumulated in his deep nest of eyes, flashing with burning light. Grab my shoulders, shake my low voice, slowly and word for word, “Ai Qing, can you regret it? ”

A drop of cold snow drips down the roof ridge to my neck, gently penetrating my skin until it reaches my heart. The voice lifted again, almost exasperating:

“If I were not your wife, I would never have had the courage to take them in! Rosh, I've never been more selfish than you. In my time, there were too many people who believed that 'man is no good to himself, and the heavens are extinguished'. I'm not as great as you, trying to save irrelevant people when I can't even eat and wear warmth! I didn't do it all because I had some kind heart. I usually do, but when I face hunger, I think about myself. ”

Bite the corner of your mouth and let the pain infuse me with sobriety. Earning his hand on my shoulder, pulling some distance from him, grinning coldly and shouting: “Are you surprised? You broke through the layer of hard work to defend the wife, there is such a selfish side, such a horrible idea. ”

Wave his hand, step back, and the voice is almost roaring: "In the worst days of hunger, I have resented you. Why should I take them in? But to blame, there are more than 200 people in the house. Can't we get rid of them now? Walk out that door, they're dead. But they're not leaving. Are we going to starve to death with them? ”

The cold wind swept up the trash on the side of the road and swept around us. The bright colour of the sky was easily covered by the clouds and returned to the dull haze. I was the only one in the alley screaming, exhaling, echoing sadly on an empty gray brick wall.