Monk Gyatso was doing his homework, chanting scriptures. Although there was no wooden fish to knock or incense to burn, when he devoted his heart to Buddha, a natural charm emerged;
To say he was paying respects to Buddha was actually less accurate than saying he was sorting out his own state of mind—a form of cultivation that certainly wasn't a waste of time.
Recently, every time he finished his coursework and opened his eyes, Monk Gyatso would always see the little tyke by his side dozing off.
For the average person, witnessing a monk pay respects to Buddha was a rare opportunity, but for this little guy, it was the best lullaby. A hint of a smile appeared at the edge of the Monk's lips; he was really fond of this child, who was as innocent as a blank sheet of paper.
Picking up the little tyke, he placed him on the bed to continue his nap. Monk Gyatso stepped out of the room, ready to brew some tea.
