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At this time, the fearless monk came over, looked at him, and waved his hand to the people: "You all go down, you don't have to worry about it here."
"Uncle Fearless, but he—"
"He is not an outsider!" Wuwei frowned and said in a rough voice: "He is the son of Master Zhengjue!"
As soon as he said that, the young monks around him immediately gasped in shock.
Even Pei Yuanxiu widened his eyes in disbelief and turned to look at me.
I looked at the person who was bent down with coughing, and was silent for a moment, and finally nodded.
Yes, the thin, even a bit sick man in front of me is Monk Zhengjue, my second uncle's child, and the son of the Yan family - Yan Qinghan.
Yan, Qing, Han.
I silently recited these three words in my heart. When I raised my head, he had already taken the handkerchief from the servant to cover his mouth, barely stopping his cough.
He raised his head and said to Wuwei Monk: "Thank you."
The fearless monk looked at him a few more times, but he didn't say anything else. The old monks had slowly walked over, looked at Yan Qinghan, and said, "Donor, you are here."
"I heard that my father passed away and I came to see him off. I just offended him, and I hope he will forgive me."
"Don't dare."
"Since the donor has come to see Zhengjue off, then—it's fine."
After they said that, they all waved their hands. The two monks who had already walked under the high platform, holding torches also came over. They both kept their heads down, looking very cautious. One of them had handed the torches in their hands to Yan Qinghan without waiting for instructions.
Yan Qinghan said lightly: "Thank you."
The two monks bowed, took a few steps back, and retreated into the crowd.
At this moment, the entire Tianmu Temple and the entire pagoda forest became quiet.
Only the thud of heartbeat in my chest and the torch in Yan Qinghan's hand were left, and the Bi Bo sound made when it burned. He held the torch high and slowly walked to the platform.
Zhengjue's body was sitting upright, with his eyes hanging down, as if he was pitying the Buddha in the world, looking at the mediocre people in the world.
And his son stood in the ten feet of worldly world and looked up at him.
A gust of wind blew, and the corner of the clothes of the great monk who was sitting upright on the platform was raised again.
Yan Qinghan had no expression on his face. He raised his hand and wanted to throw the torch into the pile of firewood under the platform.
At this moment, I, who was standing beside him, stretched out my hand and grabbed his wrist.
It was at this moment that I felt that his wrist was so thin, as if there was only a handful of bones left, almost thinner than the wrists of me, a woman. He was caught by me and turned to look at me, but he was very calm and asked, "There is still something that has not been finished?"
I thought about it and said, "You haven't seen your second uncle for so long, and you have nothing to say to him?"
He also thought for a while and said, "My heart is the same, what else can I say?"
"Where is the second uncle?"
“…”
"Has he been the same over the years?"
“…”
This time, Yan Qinghan slowly turned around and looked at me directly. There was a constant calm on his pale face: "He naturally has changed."
"Oh? What is it?"
Yan Qinghan turned his head and looked at his father on the high platform, and the faint soft rouge color. After a while, he said lightly: "His sin is full today."
“…!”
My heart suddenly jumped, and I felt that the wrist suddenly exerted force. I couldn't grasp him at all and was almost overturned by him. Yan Qinghan had already thrown the torch in his hand into the pile of firewood.
Suddenly, a fire rose into the sky before my eyes.
A hot wave of heat that almost burned people to ashes came. I almost subconsciously took a step back, but saw Yan Qinghan, standing next to the high platform, only a few feet away from the flames, as if she was a sculpture, motionless.
The sky-sky fire illuminated every corner of the Tallinn and the pale face of everyone. Only him, his pale face was so calm and unwavering from beginning to end, as if it was a thousand years of ice that could not melt.
Chapter completed!