Limit 500 words In the winter of 1977, Shaolin Temple in Dengfeng, Henan.
The weather that day was three feet freezing, and the wind was fierce and extremely cold. There were some dead trees on the white land, lifeless, and the sparse branches were also frozen and creaked in the cold wind.
I saw an old monk and a young man in shabby and thin clothes at the side door of the temple.
The monk saw the young man shivering and biting his purple lips. Without saying a word, he led him into the hall to warm himself by the fire. The charcoal fire slowly dissipated the coldness on the child's body. After drinking a few more sips of the ginger tea served by the monk, the trembling body gradually relaxed and his complexion became rosy.
The boy looked about fifteen or sixteen years old, with a thin body but bright eyes. There was a heroic spirit between his brows. He was about 1.7 Meters tall. The old monk has a bald head, a round face, a long white beard, and a weather-beaten face that is also very kind.
The old monk signaled his disciples the food, and then he and the young man sat around the stove.
"Little donor, why are you knocking on the door?" The old monk slowly uttered a few words.