Chapter 593 592 [Labor Is the Most Glorious]

"Boom! Boom! Boom..."

At five o'clock in the morning, the monastery's morning service bell rang.

Xu Zhimo got up quietly. Before he could walk out of the monk's house, he suddenly heard his father's voice: "Where are you going?"

"Morning class." Xu Zhimo said extremely depressed.

Xu Shenru ordered: "Ah Jin, Ah Cheng, you follow the young master."

The two young men who were sleeping in Datongpu of the monk's residence immediately yawned and got up, following Xu Zhimo step by step.

Xu Zhimo was going crazy. He tried to escape several times, but his father and others blocked him. Now even going to the toilet is being watched.

It gets bright early in summer, and although it's only five o'clock, the sun is already rising above the horizon.

Xu Zhimo faced the faint morning light, washed up and headed to the main hall. The air in the mountain forest is particularly fresh, the green grass on the roadside is still hanging with dew, and there is a fragrance of earth everywhere.

"Choo Choo Choo!"

Several birds were jumping among the bamboo branches. They chirped loudly and crisply, just like a symphony performance.

Breathing the fresh air, Xu Zhimo suddenly felt refreshed, and his depression suddenly disappeared. He had rarely experienced this kind of fun in the mountains before, until he moved to Xiangfu Zen Temple and suddenly realized how bad his previous life was.

Even if you don't become a monk, it would be nice to just live in seclusion here. How carefree!

Monks entered the hall one after another. Master Zhongyong, the abbot, was sitting at the front, knocking on wooden fish and leading the monks to recite ten small mantras. Xu Zhimo walked up to a monk, sat cross-legged on the futon, and followed the monks in chanting: "Namo Buddhaya, Namo Bodhisattva, Namo Sangaya, Namo Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva Mahasattva. Those who have great compassion." , Ta Nephew him. Om, 桫啰啰啕adi..."

Although there are only a dozen monks, the voices of chanting sutras are so humming that together they are like a lullaby.

Ah Jin and Ah Cheng, who were responsible for guarding Xu Zhimo, had not woken up. They sat there and listened for a while, and suddenly fell asleep again and again. They had long forgotten the tasks arranged by the master.

Xu Zhimo wanted to take the opportunity to run away, but Master Zhongyong said to him: "Jingqing, come with me!"

"Jingqing" is Xu Zhimo's dharma title as a lay Buddhist, and he gave it to himself. He probably felt that he had been too irritable in the past and wanted to have some peace and quiet.

The two came to a clean room, and Master Zhongyong asked: "Your family and friends are gathered here and they won't leave for several days. Do you still want to become a monk?"

Xu Zhimo said: "I have decided to become a monk. As for my relatives and friends, they will disperse by themselves."

Master Zhongyong shook his head and said, "No. You just want to escape the world and have no intention of worshiping the Buddha. This is the fundamental reason why I don't want to ordain you."

Xu Zhimo said: "I want to cut off the worldly ties, and becoming a monk is the best way."

"You are escaping." Master Zhongyong stared into Xu Zhimo's eyes with burning eyes.

Xu Zhimo seemed to have been read through. He was speechless for a moment, lowered his head and stopped talking.

Master Zhongyong explained: "Go ahead and face the troubles and sorrows in life. Simply escaping them is not the answer."

"I'll think about it again," Xu Zhimo said.

"Then think about it slowly and don't be in a hurry." Master Zhongyong said with a smile. Although the peace of Xiangfu Zen Temple was broken, Xu Zhimo's father took action and not only donated 3,000 kilograms of rice and 500 kilograms of sesame oil, but also promised to spend money to repair several side halls.

The monks made a fortune.

You should know that although Xiangfu Temple has hundreds of acres of temple land, most of it is mountainous land with low productivity. The sixteen monks and the tenant farmers worked hard and only harvested 30,000 kilograms of grain every year, at least half of which belonged to the tenant farmers. There was no way, the food output in the mountainous areas was too low, and if the tenant rent was high, the tenant farmers would starve to death.

Is 15,000 kilograms of grain a lot?

Based on 1.5 kilograms of grain per person per day, 16 monks would eat 8,760 kilograms a year, most of which was already consumed. The remaining grain needs to be converted into money to buy oil, salt and cloth, and very little can be saved every year.

It's okay if there's a good year, but if there's a flood or drought, the monks have to go down the mountain to ask for alms.

By the way, 1.5 kilograms of grain per person per day is normal, because the less oil and water, the more people eat. What's more, the output of mountainous areas is mainly sweet potatoes, corn and other miscellaneous grains. If you eat too much of those things, you will vomit.

Even if Zhou Hexuan and the others didn't come to persuade Xu Zhimo to go down the mountain and let Xu Zhimo eat polenta and sweet potato porridge every day in the temple, it would probably last for two or three months at most, and Xu Zhimo would be so greedy that he would go down the mountain to have his teeth sacrificed.

Not everyone is like Li Shutong, who can transform from a wealthy young man into an ascetic who only drinks a bowl of porridge every day.

After morning classes, Xu Zhimo went to have dinner with the monks.

Very thin corn porridge, with a little rice mixed in the middle, and a plate of pickled radish. Xu Zhimo drank two large bowls.

This guy doesn't even care if he's full, he'll be hungry in the middle of the morning.

Poor poet Xu only lived in the mountains for a few days and has already lost almost ten pounds. This is really a good way to lose weight.

Zhou Hexuan and the others played mahjong too late yesterday, and they were all snoring loudly at this time. Xu Zhimo ran to take a look, then carried a bucket and went to the fields with the monks - the corn sown in spring was about to ear, which was a critical time.

Due to the dry weather and the lack of chemical fertilizers, the corn must be watered with earing water, otherwise this year's corn yield will inevitably be reduced or even die.

No one forced Xu Zhimo to work, but he took the initiative to work, perhaps hoping to numb himself with fatigue.

Everyone else was carrying a full bucket, but it was difficult for Xu Zhimo to carry only half a bucket of water, and his shoulders were throbbing with pain from the pressure. When he came to the cornfield, more than a dozen monks and dozens of tenant farmers had been working for a long time. Sharecroppers, in particular, go out almost as soon as dawn and wait until the sun is high in the sky to finish work and go home. The weather is too hot and they are prone to heatstroke.

"Hey, don't pour so much. Like me, pour water in the corn nest. One scoop at a time is enough." A young monk corrected.

"Oh, oh, I understand." Xu Zhimo felt that he was a useless person who didn't work hard and couldn't distinguish between grains and grains.

The rough corn leaves quickly cut Xu Zhimo's exposed skin. Sweat flowed down, and the feeling was itchy and painful. He was so anxious that he kept scratching with his fingers, and there were scratches all over his neck.

Xu Zhimo carried water three times in a row, feeling dizzy from exhaustion. Finally, he waited until the leading monk called to call it a day.

It was already 10:30 in the morning, and the sun was very poisonous. If I continued to work, I would suffer from heatstroke.

Xu Zhimo carried the bucket back to the temple. On the way, he saw several people carrying poles up the mountain. Two of them were Liang Sicheng and Lin Huiyin.

Xu Zhimo didn't want to contact them and immediately quickened his pace.

Lin Huiyin was sharp-eyed and pointed at Xu Zhimo and said, "Sicheng, is that Zhimo the one carrying the bucket?"

"Probably not, he never works." Liang Sicheng muttered.