Chapter 427 Ming

Who is he?
do not know.

He couldn't even remember what he was.

He likes to swim in the water. Does that mean he is a fish?

He likes clear skies. Does that mean he is a bird?

He loves to watch the changing of the seasons, the blooming and withering of flowers, the growth and falling of leaves. Does this mean that he is a tree?
He loves the hustle and bustle of the world. Does this mean he is a human being?
No, that doesn't mean anything.

So which one is he?
When he has forgotten everything, when he is overwhelmed by the whole world, what can prove his identity and his existence?

Perhaps, he should just go with the flow and become a part of the world.

Is the self really that important?
important.

He heard himself say this.

Even though I don't even know what I am, I still hold on to this inexplicable idea.

It's like grabbing the air, and when you open your palms you find there is nothing.

even so……

He still opened his hands and continued to grasp in the void, hoping to catch something that he didn't know whether it existed or not.

That must be precious.

Even if I forget what it is, I can't forget the place it holds in my heart.

Suddenly, his hands grabbed something.

He quickly looked down and saw a little bright light, like a tiny firefly.

It flew up from the palm of the hand and slowly floated forward.

He followed closely beside it.

Suddenly, he heard a calling voice in his ears. The voice was not loud, but the noisy sounds in his ears all quieted down the moment it appeared, leaving the spacious stage alone for it.

He looked in the direction of the voice and saw that it was his mother calling him, telling him it was time to go home for dinner.

Where is home?

Suddenly, countless scenes in front of my eyes became blurred, and only one scene became extremely clear. It was a small thatched house. There was nothing special about it, but it seemed to stand in the center of the world.

He walked over subconsciously and opened the door.

A fresh fragrance wafted from the room. The moment it appeared, all the aromas lingering in the nose disappeared, leaving only it gently fluttering in the nose.

The aroma was like a small hook that pulled him into the house, and he subconsciously sat at the table and looked at the dishes in front of him.

It's pork liver.

He subconsciously picked up the chopsticks on the table and put the pork liver into his mouth.

The moment the pig liver enters the mouth, all the flavors in the mouth disappear, leaving only the delicate and tender pig liver, and the soft touch without any impurities dancing on the tip of the tongue.

"Is it tasty?"

A voice asked.

He turned around and saw his mother's expectant eyes.

He nodded subconsciously.

"It's delicious, so eat more. The doctor said that pig liver is good for the eyes, so you should eat more."

As he spoke, he put another piece of pork liver into the bowl.

But he didn't eat it, but put the liver into his mother's bowl, "Mom, you eat it too."

The mother was stunned for a moment, then smiled with relief, "Okay, I'll eat too." She reached out and gently touched his head.

The gentle touch and warmth from the top of his head drove away all the feelings he had felt, leaving only these. And this gentleness and warmth gradually spread from the top of his head to his heart.

His memory returned and he finally remembered who he was.

I remembered myself and the most important things in my heart.

He remembered what he loved, what was once the most precious thing to him.

The things that built up his self.

At this time, countless scenes appeared before his eyes again, but they could no longer confuse his eyes. He knew what he should see and what he should look for.

Countless voices echoed in his ears again, but they could no longer obscure his heart. He knew what he should listen to and what he should understand.

Countless flavors and countless feelings came one after another, but they could only surround him and could no longer flow into his heart.

Because his heart was already occupied by something.

That's me.

At this moment, the old man with long eyes felt a clarity he had never felt before.

Ming means to distinguish.

Distinguish good from bad, and identify the true from the false.

But what is good and what is bad?
Which one is true and which one is false?

There are so many things, so many myriad, that they have blinded people’s hearts. How can one tell the difference?

Therefore, the first thing to understand is oneself.

What do I want? What am I pursuing?
What good things do I gain from them?
What harm can bad things do to me?
Are they hindering my pursuit, or are they helping me to move forward?

In this way, we can classify all things in the world, and distinguish what is useful to us from the thousands of things, and discard those that are harmful.

This is Ming.

Listening to everything and seeing everything in the world without distinguishing them will only lead to being stuck in the mire.

Only by distinguishing things can it be called enlightenment.

The old man with long eyes suddenly understood.

Yan first saw his closed eyes open, and saw that his already extraordinary eyes became even brighter and clearer, as if they were emitting a light that could distinguish all things, illuminating everything in the world clearly.

He was a little dazed and looked at Xu Qing blankly.

Can just one dish really bring about such a big change in a person?

What kind of dish is this?

And his answer was soon answered by the old man with long eyes.

"It's really amazing. The deliciousness of this dish is enough to tempt people. The smooth and delicate liver paste has no impurities and slides gently in the mouth like silk, bringing people an extremely delicate enjoyment. Then there is the fragrance of the broth. I really can't understand how you can make the broth so rich in such a short time? Normally, if you want to make such a broth, you have to boil it for a whole day and night. But you boiled out the essence of the broth in such a short time. How did you do it?"

Xu Qing replied: "Old sir, first throw the pork bones into the fire to roast, and then put them into the pot to boil after the oil is roasted. Therefore, the taste of the boiled soup will be more intense. At the same time, because of the roasting of the fire, the essence of the bones and the taste of the marrow will be stimulated in a short time, so the taste of the boiled soup will be more intense."

"I see."

The old man nodded suddenly.

Then he looked at the dish on the plate and said, "But the taste is only part of this dish. The heart and soul behind it is even more shocking. The previous dish brought all the sounds of the world into my ears and allowed me to see everything in the world. This dish is about how I can distinguish between all things in the world, how I can distinguish myself, and what is good and what is bad."

"I am old and have forgotten my original intention, myself, and where I came from. This dish has made me understand my true self and what is truly important. How can an emperor be called wise if he cannot distinguish between loyalty and treachery, good and evil?"

　I haven't been feeling well lately, and I feel a little dizzy. I'll update when I feel better.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)