With his painter, Meng Fan moved to a mountain in the east of Sun City.

There, the master and apprentice built a small wooden house by themselves, exactly the same as the wooden house where Meng Fan lived in Wuzhen, and then opened some fields, planted a little vegetables, every day, Meng Fan would go into the mountains to pick fruits, pick some herbs, and occasionally fight some small beasts back, before the arrival of dusk in the afternoon, Meng Fan continued to paint.

Days, poverty, peace.

In a flash, it was another two or three months.

Meng Fan still dreams every day, but he will never be awakened by the sights in his dreams again.

His paintings are also becoming more and more charming.

Gradually, he also had the idea of starting to practice martial arts again, because he knew that the master was a hidden master, so he wanted to ask the master for advice, but now, the painter's body is really poor.

The painter can barely get out of bed now.

His face became more and more ugly, he became very pale, his body became thinner and thinner, and his appetite was even worse.

Meng Fan was very nervous, very nervous every day, so he slept very late, always watching the painter fall asleep, he would sleep, and he would always get up before the painter, go out every day, and come back as soon as possible, as if he was afraid that if he couldn't see the painter, he would never be able to see it.

This fear has always entangled Meng Fan.

In contrast, the painter is very bland.

Bland, some incomprehensible.

It seems that something is waiting for something, something is being greeted.

On this day, Meng Fan went up the mountain and picked up a little fox.

This little fox doesn't seem to have parents, it's not very good at walking, and the hair on its body hasn't grown, it's very pitiful, but it's very spiritual, and when he sees Meng Fan, he keeps calling softly, so Meng Fan hugged it back, walked into the wooden house, and hurriedly showed it to the painter, hoping to make him happier.

In front of his mother, Meng Fan will always be a child, this is nature, but in front of the painter, Meng Fan feels that he is more like a child, which is not nature, but an inexplicable dependence.

The painter lay on the bed, looked at the little fox with a pale face, and said with a smile: "It's so beautiful." ”

"yes, it's beautiful. Meng Fan said happily.

The painter said: "I haven't paid attention to the beauty of such small things in the world for a long time. ”

The painter said another sentence that Meng Fan didn't understand.

"Get up with me, I want to see the scenery outside. ”

The painter said.

Meng Fan hurriedly put the little fox in a bamboo basket and helped the painter to walk outside the wooden house, the little fox staggered out of the bamboo basket, followed behind the painter and Meng Fan, and fell after a few steps.

Outside the wooden house, the sun was just setting, indicating that it was just past noon.

The painter sat on a rocking chair with Meng Fan's support, looking at the sun in the distance, thoughtful.

On this afternoon, Meng Fan made no exception to paint.

There was always a kind of uneasiness in his heart, and that kind of uneasiness made him unable to calm down, that is, he was always by the artist's side, looking at the sun in the distance with him.

The little fox also lay on the ground not far away, quietly accompanying them.

After a while, dusk came.

The painter smiled, "It's time for me to go." ”

Meng Fan was stunned for a moment, then he understood, his eyes were a little sore all of a sudden, he didn't understand why, he reached out to rub it, and he touched the water, and he rubbed it desperately, but he couldn't stop the water from flowing down.

He cried terribly.

But there was no sound of sobbing.

Just crying silently.

I couldn't stop crying.

The painter didn't look at Meng Fan, kept looking at the sun in the distance, and said with a smile: "It's good, it's good." I have experienced life and death countless times, and I always think, where will I die, next to whom, and by what method will I die, is it vigorous? Unexpectedly, I died in my hometown, died by my side, and died so peacefully, it was so good, it was so good......"

Meng Fan didn't care about what the painter said, he just struggled and said, "Master......"

"Why are you crying?" asked the painter serenely.

Meng Fan rubbed his eyes: "I...... I'm afraid...... I'll never see Master again......"

"What are you afraid of? The painter smiled, "Oh, yes. You said that if you only eat pickles and porridge for the rest of your life, you will be happy, but if you eat the delicacies of the mountains and seas once, and you can't eat them again, it will be very painful, and it will be more painful to have it and lose it than to have it before, Master is wrong, Master shouldn't be by your side, it really shouldn't. ”

Meng Fan shook his head desperately: "No...... No...... If I do it again, I, I still want to meet Master, even if I know that there will always be separation, I must see Master, I must meet!"

His voice stopped sobbing.

No more hesitation.

Suddenly, it became very determined.

"Even if you lose it eventually?" the artist asked.

Meng Fan nodded: "It's better than never having one!"

"If you think so, then, perhaps, one day, you will see me again. The painter smiled, "Do you believe it?"

Meng Fan was stunned.

The painter turned his gaze and continued to look at the sun in the distance: "I don't know if a person is strong enough to reverse life and death, before, I used to think that as long as I am strong enough, life and death can be changed, but I have never succeeded, but, you and me, different, as long as you think so, even if I die, you will one day, you will definitely see me again, definitely, at that moment, you will suddenly realize, to that moment, you will understand, will understand many things." ”

Meng Fan stood in place.

The painter said: "I still want to accompany you, and I will paint and calligraphy for another 30,000 miles." ”

Meng Fan immediately stepped forward and shook the painter's hand: "Master, you will be fine, you will accompany me to calligraphy and painting for 30,000 miles." ”

The painter smiled and touched Meng Fan's head: "When you paint and paint 30,000 miles by yourself, you will, see me again." ”

As he spoke, the painter took out a small cloth bag from his arms.

This cloth bag looks very old, Meng Fan recognized it at a glance, this is something from Wuzhen, because the cloth bag has some patterns of Wuzhen, and it can even be seen that this cloth bag is made by a ingenious woman in Wuzhen.

Obviously, the painter brought this cloth bag from Wuzhen here.

"Master doesn't have anything for you, you take the contents of this cloth bag. ”

The painter handed the cloth bag to Meng Fan's hand.

Meng Fan held the bag and looked up at the master again, the tears in his eyes couldn't be stopped.

The painter reached out and wiped a little tear from the corner of his eye.

"Meng Fan, don't cry. ”

The voice is so familiar.

Meng Fan was in a trance all of a sudden.

In his nightmares, every time he was frightened, he could faintly hear this voice!

That's it!

The painter's hand hung down.

I closed my eyes.

It's like, asleep.

Meng Fan's lips trembled, the bag in his hand fell to the ground, and the contents of the bag also rolled out, but Meng Fan didn't have the heart to look at it, he just stayed for a long, long time.

Then he knelt down in front of the painter.

The sun sets.

A little bit of sunset shines on the hillside.

On the hillside, the young and handsome painter lay in a rocking chair, peaceful, as if asleep.

Meng Fan knelt on the ground, tears kept wetting the soil, and he desperately held back, endured.

Master said, don't cry.

So hold back and don't cry.

Meng Fan forced himself to stand up, feeling something gently rubbing against his leg, it was the nimble little fox.

The little fox pushed the things that rolled out of the bag in front of Meng Fan.

It was something that seemed mundane.

Like a pebble.

It's a black bead.

Meng Fan stretched out his hand, picked up the beads, and put them in his arms.

He buried the master and set up a stone stele, but the master never left a name, so Meng Fan could only write that he was the first painter in the world.

After seven days of filial piety for the master, Meng Fan packed his bags, and finally grew his hair with his hair, but he was still very immature, patted his chest, touched the black bead, and went down the mountain.

He was going back to Wuzhen.

He wants to continue to practice martial arts.

Because Master said that as long as he works hard, he will meet Master one day.

Because, he finally understood.

It is sad to have never had it, and to hide the ears and steal the bell behind closed doors.

Nothing is eternal, and if you have it, you will be happy.