On the sixth day of October, the morning glow was bright, the sky was blue, and the mountain was golden.
Many pilgrims have come to Puguang Temple on the mountainside of Xishan Mountain in the suburbs of Beijing. Cigarettes are wreathed, and the melodious bell can be heard at the foot of the mountain.
Four tall men walked into the temple, one of whom was Zhu Qian.
They are all in casual clothes, and their hats are pressed low. Instead of entering the temple to burn incense, I hurried to the back of the temple along the veranda.
At this time, the monk not only finished his morning lessons, but also "passed" the hall.
They stopped at a moonlit door with the words "No pilgrims allowed" written on it.
A man came up to the little monk who was watching the door