National School Prince Is A Girl

"it is good."

When Mr. Ann said the word, his voice was all sandy.

I thought that his grandson really figured it out.

Until the little figure stood outside the Bojiayuan and looked at the window for an afternoon.

Father Ann only knew that it didn't seem to be.

Qin Mo was holding an amulet in his hand, holding his red panda suitcase in one hand, and his ascetic face was even more indifferent than before.

He didn't say anything until he got on the bus: "Grandpa, I want to go to Wutai Mountain after returning home."

"Mount Wutai?" Grandpa Ann glanced at him. After all, his grandson had never been interested in this aspect, Buddhism?

Qin Meng snorted and looked down at the amulet in his hand: "Mount Wutai."

Grandpa Ann has never refused the request made by his grandson.

Especially at this moment.

Because the grandson turned his head and looked at the retreating scenery outside the car window, the head was drooping.

Three days later.

Wutai Mountain.

Not many people come to worship.

Everyone who has read the Dharma knows.

The fifteenth day of the tenth day is the day when the incense is most vigorous.

But today, the seventh day.

The number seven in China has a common meaning.

But on this day.

Above the long order.

Thousands of steps.

A small figure, his face indifferent, with thin sweat on his forehead, walked once a week.

A full nine hundred and ninety-nine worship.

Sweat wet the sweater.

The black hair is full of water vapor.

But these do not seem to affect his nobility.

Probably the age is really too young.

The little shami watched it and watched it all.

There is still snow on the top of the mountain.

Snow falls on the top of the head before it turns into water.

The little shami saw the figure getting closer and closer, and some ran into the temple.

"Master, master, there are people outside, people."

The old monk knocking on the wooden fish put down the Buddhist scripture and looked up at Xiao Shami.

"No, you go out and see, there is a child."

Xiao Sha Mi is a child himself, and also said that others are children?

The old monk shook his head and walked out with sandalwood.

I didn't care much at first.

Until he saw the step-by-step silhouette, he paused and then said "Amitabha."

The cold wind blew, and between the mountain streams, the snow fell on the figure's shoulder, but the little boy's face was more eye-catching than the snow on the mountain.

That scene was very similar to Cangyang Jiacuo's poems.

He said, "That year, I threw my long head down on the mountain road, not looking at it, only to see the warmth next to you. You meet. At that moment, I ascended to immortality, not for longevity, but for your peace and joy. "

The old monk was waiting, waiting for the precious little figure to come to him.

Qin Mo understood the etiquette, and even though he had sweat on his forehead, he still bent over halfway and called out: "Master."

The nine hundred and ninety-nine steps of worship, no matter when it is placed, must return his wish.

The old monk lowered his eyes, but there was helplessness in his eyes: "Where does the small donor come and what do they ask for?"

Qin Mo pulled out a red string from his neck. One end of the red string was tied with an amulet: "This is someone who asked me for it. Can the master give me a piece of Buddha's word?"

"Do you believe in Buddha?" The old monk asked.

Qin Mo shook his head: "I only believe in myself."

The old monk asked again: "Why did you ask for Buddha's words?"

"She believes."