Dad of the end of the Dharma, merit starts from carrying shit. Wu Xia stared at the cracks in the ceiling at three o'clock in the morning and realized:
>The "endurance" that Buddha talked about was not meditation at all --> it was the little ancestor in his arms who was twisting into a twist and howling like a dolphin.
The bottle is a magic weapon, the diaper is a cassock, and the merit progress bar is stuck at 0.01%... Until he used "golden merit thread" to weave a luminous pacifier.
Three seventeen in the morning.
Wu Xia felt like his brain was being grinded slowly by a low-quality juicer. The eight-month-old human cub in his arms, codenamed "Wu Xiaobao", was accurately bombarding his last trace of consciousness with dolphin sounds that could shatter glass...
