The Mountain God Is Silent [Pingxie]

This book records my first novel (7199) OOC apology. If you don't like it, you can just abandon the article, but please don't dislike it. Thank you all. The introduction will be improved later I have known since I was a child that the mountain god I serve is not very talkative. People in the village say that the mountain god is fierce, and the boy worshiped must be changed every year. But Zhang Qiling treats me differently. He would hand me a veil when I was cleaning the temple, and let me sleep against him when I was sleepy. Until that day, I accidentally opened the temple's old book - it was densely packed with my name. Every stroke was carved by his own hands. --- My name is Wu Xie, and I am the mountain god worship boy in Qingya Village. This job was forced upon me by my father. He said that the mountain temple must be watched over by someone. Young people in the village were unwilling to come. I was just idle all day, so why not come and talk to the mountain god? The idea of ​​"talking to the mountain god" is actually quite ridiculous. Because Zhang Qiling - I mean the mountain god, he doesn't like to talk at all. The day I entered the temple for the first time, I was so nervous that my calves twisted. The elders in the village say that the mountain god is a fierce man, and the boy he worships has to be replaced every year. As for the whereabouts of the replaced one, no one dares to ask. I knelt on the futon and kowtowed to the statue three times until my forehead turned red. The statue is a stone statue of a young man with cold brows, looking down at me. "S-Mountain God," I stammered, "My name is Wu Xie. I am eighteen this year. From now on... I will clean the temple for you and add lamp oil. If you have any instructions, just ask me in your dreams..." Of course the stone statue would not answer me. I knelt for a long time, and my knees were numb. I got up and started sweeping the floor with a broom. As he was scanning, he caught a glimpse of something next to the base of the statue. I leaned over to take a look—— It is a neatly folded veil. It's plain white, with a small green lotus embroidered on the edge. I was stunned, thinking why is this veil here? Could it be that one of the worshiping boys was left behind? He reached out to take it, but the veil moved on its own. I was so frightened that I jumped back, knocking over the incense burner next to me and covering myself with ashes. Two fingers were protruded from under the handkerchief. They were long and slender with distinct joints, and there was a slight coolness on the fingertips. Those two fingers held the handkerchief and handed it forward. I followed the hand and looked up—— The stone statue is gone. Sitting on the throne was a young man with waterfall-like black hair and deep eyes, looking at me quietly. He was wearing the same black robe as the one on the stone statue, with the hem hanging down to the ground and the veil resting on his open palm. "Zhang, Zhang..." "Yeah." He responded, his voice as low as an ancient bell in the mountains, and it made my ears numb. I just became his enshrinement boy in a daze. Later I found out what the villagers meant by "fierce". Zhang Qiling doesn't like to talk, let alone see people. During every sacrifice, he never left the temple. He only asked me to lay out the offerings and clean them up after the people left. Occasionally, a reckless drunk would break in and act wild. The next day, he would always find himself lying in a mass grave three miles outside the village. He could not remember how he climbed up. But Zhang Qiling treats me differently. It was sweltering in the temple in summer, and I was sweating profusely after cleaning. The veil he handed me was always cold, as cold as having been soaked in mountain spring water. I was so sleepy that I took a nap during the winter night. When I woke up, I found myself leaning on his shoulder. He was sitting upright, like a real stone statue, but the half of my body I was leaning on was as warm as a burnt earth dragon. One time, I had a high fever and was so dizzy that I grabbed his sleeve and refused to let go, muttering, "Don't drive me away, Mountain God." He was silent for a long time, so long that I thought he would not respond to me. Then I felt a hand fall on my forehead, cool and light. "Not leaving." That was the first time I heard him say two words. I stayed at the Mountain Temple for three years. Over the past three years, people in the village have looked at me more and more strangely. An old man muttered: "Why hasn't this boy changed yet?" I didn't take it seriously. My father was very happy and said that I was lucky because the mountain god liked me. I like this statement. I like him. I like him sitting silently on the throne watching me sweep the floor, I like the handkerchiefs and wild fruits he occasionally hands over, and I like his motionless shoulders when I fall asleep against him at night. I knew he was more than a stone statue. But I don't know if he has me in his heart. That day when I was cleaning the temple, the incense burner was crooked and the ashes were scattered all over the floor. I knelt down to clean it up and found that the floor under the throne seemed a little loose. Somehow, I lifted the board. There is a secret compartment at the bottom, and there is a book in the secret compartment. It is old and yellow, and the corners are frayed. I turned to the first page. There is a name written on it: Wu Xie. The ink is very old, as if it was written many years ago. I turned to the second page: Wu Xie. Page three: Wu Xie. Page four, page five, page six... Densely packed, it's all my name. Every stroke is neat and profound, as if someone dipped their fingertips in ink and carved them stroke by stroke. My fingers started to tremble. When I turned to the last page, the ink was still new and it read: "Wu Xie, March 17th, Guihai year, the third year after entering the temple." That was yesterday. I turned around holding the book. Zhang Qiling stood behind me for an unknown amount of time. He lowered his eyes and looked at me, his eyes deep, like a thousand-year-old ancient well with no bottom. "What is this?" I asked, my voice trembling. He didn't speak, just stretched out his hand and took the book. His fingers were slender and had clear joints. They were the same hands that had handed me the handkerchief countless times. At this moment, the fingertips were gently caressing the cover of the book, as if they were caressing something precious. "You," he said. Just one word. I looked at him blankly. He was silent for a long time, so long that I thought he would stop talking. Then he raised his eyes, looked at me, and said, "Every life." There was a wind blowing outside the hall, causing the evergreen lamp to sway. I suddenly remembered what the old man in the village said: the boy enshrined must be changed every year. Where did the replacement go? No one knows. But I know. They are all back. I suddenly understood why he didn't talk much, why he treated me differently, and why in the past three years, he never thought about changing to another boy. Because the one who was always there, from beginning to end, was only me. My eyes are a little hot. "Then you..." Before he finished speaking, he raised his hand and handed over the veil. It was still the plain white handkerchief with a small green lotus embroidered on the corner. I took it and held it tightly in my hand. He looked at me, and the coldness between his brows and eyes seemed to have been melted away by something, revealing a very faint trace. Is that a laugh? I have no idea. But I know that from now on, I never want to leave this temple. Intention: Look forward