translated_Chapter 116

116: Extra 5

Jing Yueming looked at the somewhat old kraft paper.

It wasn’t anything very important.

A draft written in both Tibetan and Chinese.

With translations and phonetic transcriptions.

He originally thought it was a letter or diary, but then he realized, of course.

How could Qiu Ci at that time have known Jing Yueming would come?

He probably thought Jing Yueming would never come.

So he wouldn’t write a letter.

Is it true that Jing Yueming will never receive any more letters from Mr. Maple Leaf?

His five hundred-plus letters have never been seen by anyone, nor will anyone ever reply to him.

At this moment, Jing Yueming felt that Qiu Ci’s departure was not a silent farewell, nor a distant journey without a trace.

Qiu Ci was dead. Dead is dead.

The material body returns to its most basic carbon elements.

The soul is extinguished along with it.

Jing Yueming will miss Qiu Ci, but that guy won’t even think anymore, his brain burned to ashes.

Death is so strange, even stranger than reincarnation or the concepts of heaven and hell.

Someone who clearly existed, who had an impact, his thoughts, why would they disappear without a trace?

He should at least write a reply to Jing Yueming, right?

He followed the pronunciation on the kraft paper and recited:

“Om mani padme hum!”

“”: May you be far from all major and minor disasters.

“”: May you never have sorrow or bitterness.

“”: May you always be healthy and safe.

“”: May your happiness and longevity be long.

Jing Yueming rested in the hotel for a day.

He looked at the kraft paper with only a few words over and over again, and also consulted Langjie.

“The first sentence: Om mani padme hum. The Six-Syllable Mantra, symbolizing compassion and wisdom, is the core mantra of prayer.” The rest is explained in Chinese, it is a blessing.

“Where did Qiu Ci read this passage?” Jing Yueming asked him.

Langjie thought for a moment: “He practiced for a long time to become familiar with it, it seems to be on the mountain, do you want to go?”

“I want to go.”

Langjie looked at the time, it was six o’clock in the afternoon: “We have to get up at six o’clock tomorrow morning to go.”

“Okay.” Jing Yueming tightly grasped the kraft paper.

Before dawn, the two set off.

The mountain was not high, and they arrived in two hours.

On the way, they also saw the sunrise, which was very dazzling.

When he saw the layers of prayer flags, Jing Yueming was shocked.

The guides brought by other tourists were introducing them to everyone.

“That’s our Longda (prayer flags). The ancestors said that the mountain peak is a station for the gods passing by. We string together five colors of cloth, blue for the sky of the Yarlung Zangbo, white for the clouds of Namtso, red for the auspiciousness in the stove, green for the river on the grassland, and yellow for the highland barley fields held in the hand. Each piece of cloth is printed with the Six-Syllable Mantra in Tibetan. Every time the wind blows, the prayer flags speak to the mountain gods for us: ‘May the cattle and sheep in the mountains not be attacked by wolves, may the highland barley in the fields not be damaged by frost, may the people who climb the mountain return home with the light of peace on the soles of their shoes’.”

Colorful prayer flags fluttered in the wind.

That person also stood here once, praying for him.

Jing Yueming put his hands together.

Om mani padme hum!

“Om mani padme hum!”

“” May you be far from all major and minor disasters.

“”May you never have sorrow or bitterness.

“”May you always be healthy and safe.

“”May your happiness and longevity be long.

He could no longer hear Qiu Ci reciting the prayer here, so he recited it himself.

The wind blew his scarf, as if Qiu Ci was also embracing him.

“Qiu Ci, will I really never see you again?” Jing Yueming felt his nose stinging again.

No matter what he asked, no one would answer anymore.

Apart from the five hundred letters in which he didn’t understand a word of Qiu Ci, in fact, Jing Yueming received a response to every phone call and every text message.

Qiu Ci, you won’t reply to me anymore.

“Are you… sad again?” Langjie didn’t seem to be very good at comforting people.

“I miss Qiu Ci, I miss the living Qiu Ci.”

“Then you can be considered to have prayed for him. Qiu Ci is very good and worth your love.” Langjie pursed his lips and hesitated for a moment: “If you know his lover, can you convey it? I don’t want Qiu Ci to be forgotten.”

Jing Yueming looked up at the sky, as if looking up at the non-existent Qiu Ci: “His lover… can’t forget him.”

So why did he come to Tibet?

Because he can’t forget Qiu Ci.

The time is wrong, even reciting scriptures ten thousand times cannot bring about an encounter with Qiu Ci from a few years ago.

Qiu Ci? Why did Qiu Ci believe in Buddhism, why did he come all the way before his death to pray for him?

There are many explanations for people’s beliefs.

Seeking belonging, or seeking comfort.

Qiu Ci must be the latter.

“The only thing I can’t let go of before I die is Jing Yueming.”

At the foot of the snow-capped mountains, Qiu Ci sighed and pinned his hopes on the gods.

Even if he dies, Jing Yueming must be safe.

Bones buried deep underground.

Songs of blessings hang high in the sky.

Without time to mourn Qiu Ci, Jing Yueming packed his things and took the high-speed train and plane to the United States again.

He still had to work.

In his spare time, he habitually took out stationery.

He started to write the date and weather, then paused.

Then he continued to write.

Like those letters in the past, talking about his mood, talking about his recent situation.

But this time, he didn’t need a stamp.

There is a way, when it is inconvenient to go home to mourn the dead.

Just draw a circle on the ground, and then wipe out a gap, facing the direction of home.

He bought paper flowers again, drove out to the suburbs that night.

This was the location for their film.

It was a manor, said to have been inhabited by a wealthy tycoon.

It has only become desolate in recent years.

Zhang Kaizhe told him mysteriously a few days ago that the owner of the manor was Louis.

“The founder of Global Finance.”

The name Louis was just a little familiar.

But he knew a lot about Global Finance.

It was the company of Qiu Ci and Qiu Shi. Louis should be their adoptive father.

This place was one hundred and fifty kilometers away from the hotel where he was staying.

Jing Yueming just wanted to come.

He found an open space and burned the letters and paper flowers.

The smoke choked him and brought tears to his eyes.

A flashlight beam searched over from a distance.

Jing Yueming raised his hand to cover his eyes.

The other party walked over after confirming that he was alive: “Chinese?”

The person holding the flashlight was an old man with a refined temperament.

“Yes.” Jing Yueming and he were both yellow-skinned Asians.

The other party glanced at the bonfire: “Burning paper for family members? Pay attention to fire prevention, try to burn it during Qingming Festival, I don’t know at this time…”

“Did you live here before?” Jing Yueming asked him.

The old man frowned and stared at him for a while, making Jing Yueming feel uneasy: “I’ve lived here for fifty years.”

“Have you met Mr. Louis?”

“I’ve met him, my surname is Lin, what should I call you? Looking at you, young man, what’s your background?” Old Lin’s temperament didn’t seem like that of an ordinary person.

“My surname is Jing, you can call me Little Jing or something, I want to ask you about someone, Louis’s child…”

“Louis has dozens of children, I can’t remember them all.”

“Named Qiu Ci.”

“Don’t know him.”

“Alan?”

“Don’t know him.”

“You should have seen him, he is a Chinese mixed-race, his eyes are green, and he has a twin sister named Qiu Shi…”

“I know, I know Qiu Shi, how is Little Ai La recently?” Old Lin mentioned the most beloved young lady in this manor.

Jing Yueming said awkwardly: “She passed away a few years ago… Do you remember Qiu Ci?”