The setting sun shines on the bluestone steps of the old locust trees at the ancient city gate, and the evening breeze carries a bit of desolation.
A few naughty children pestered the white-haired old man, who was napping against the salesman's rack, and chirped him to tell him some strange stories.
The old man was helpless. He opened his eyes, looked at the mist in the distance, and spoke slowly:
"Did you know that there is a deserted city in this world? The city is deserted and the walls are in ruins. But anyone who has ever entered has never really come out..."
The children were all startled. They raised their little faces and asked, "Master, why is that? Is there any monster hidden in the city?"
The old man stroked his long white beard and chuckled:
"This... We have to start with another story that is further away."
"Grandpa, please tell me quickly!"
"Once upon a time, there was a mountain that was as high as the sky, with clouds and mist that never dissipated all year round. There lived an immortal who had practiced cultivation for thousands of years. He felt that the mountain was too cold and lonely, so he went down to find some children with extraordinary abilities, and took him as his disciples to teach him Taoism.
The years in the mountains are pure and simple, and all the disciples are pure in mind, devoted to the Tao, and each has his or her own character. And among the many disciples, there is one disciple..."
Intent: Protection across reincarnation, tenderness of two-way redemption