There is a saying in the countryside: "A village cannot be made without fools."
He asked: "Why are there no fools in our village?" People laughed and touched his head with pity.
He had been suffering from a serious illness since he could remember. Every time he had nightmares, he always dreamed of a strange face. The strange face was big and small, far and near, mocking, resentful, crying and angry, with various expressions, silently provoking him in his dreams. One day, the strange face seemed to come to life and became three-dimensional. It laughed, and all the wheat ears in the dream were broken into stalks.
In order to survive, he left his hometown to practice in the mountains, and then went into the world to endure hardships.
He had seen the ruthless murderous ruler, and encountered the terrifying "Ten Kills", but one day his master told him that the only chance of survival had always been in the place of his birth.
It turns out that the protagonist's biggest enemy is not the "ruler" or the "ten kills", but the feasting, drunkenness, and sometimes confused and sometimes turbulent heart.
The pure heart is the way to sincerity, the unity of knowledge and action, the bridge to the other side. Cultivating the Tao and cultivating the mind, it turns out that when you see power, you don't have a pure heart, and you still hold on to simplicity even when you are out of the rotten mud. It turns out that all I have tried to cultivate is my heart.
