"Xiao Yue, go outside and soothe the emotions of the patient's family."

"Okay, Director."

"Are they soothed?"

"No, Director, there are no family members outside the operating room."

"Haven't the family members been notified yet?"

"They should have been, but..."

"Alright, go urge the blood bank to hurry up."

"Okay."

Often, the resuscitation process is more like a marathon, competing for endurance.

The human body is truly a fragile thing. No one knows this better than a doctor. "Humans," seemingly endowed with too much transcendent meaning and symbolism in various works of art,

are actually very delicate.

And the profession of a doctor not only needs praise from the outside world, but also needs to cheer itself up from time to time, to move oneself, otherwise it is really difficult to sustain.

If the patient is still persisting, you cannot give up. When everything that should be done has been done, what often remains is a companionship similar to that between an athlete and a trainer.

Between each other, it is a torment.

If you can finally run past the finish line, then everyone is happy;

but in reality, the race that starts here, most of the time, you cannot see the shadow of the finish line.

After failing at the same thing too many times, you still have to continue to participate in the next highly probable "failure" with full energy. If this isn't torment, then what is?

Director Wang motioned for the nurse beside him to wipe his sweat. To be honest, his eyes were already a little dizzy.

This isn't because he's old. There are two types of men in this world: one is the man who will never admit to being old, and the other is the man who says he's old but is just saying it.

Especially for Director Wang, in order to respond to the national call, his wife has successfully conceived a second child.

Although even Director Wang himself is not clear what kind of power is supporting the patient to keep persisting, he at least has one principle in his heart:

As a doctor, when working, you can choose to give up, but the prerequisite for giving up is that you must have the qualifications to choose to give up only after the patient himself and the patient's family have given up first.

This principle seems a bit difficult to understand and very cold, but it is already a rare warmth.

The masked youth wearing a patient's gown came to the door of the operating room and pushed it open.

The doctors and nurses inside were still continuing their work, as if no one had seen his appearance.

The masked youth walked to the operating table,

looking at the busy scene around him.

Most of his expressions have always been accustomed to being hidden behind coverings such as masks, but his eyes have always been calm and serene.

This kind of tranquility is not the peace of a small bridge and flowing water, but more like the indifference of a vast and boundless land.

"Actually, you don't need to keep holding on so hard."

The masked youth spoke.

Although the one lying on the operating table at this moment does not have the ability to respond.

But the electrocardiogram and various instrument indicators can clearly see that he is still doing everything he can for his "living."

Even if,

this living,

is just unilaterally enduring the pain of mortals.

"People's vision is always short-sighted, superficial, one-sided..."

"Just like in daily life, if your hands and feet get scratched, they will recover after a while;

if you catch a cold, rest for a few days, take some medicine, and it will recover after a while;

People often use this to numb themselves, thinking that everything can be restored,

this,

is human perception."

"But this is false. There is no true restoration to the original state in this world."

The masked youth lowered his head and glanced at the injured person on the hospital bed.

When you become a mortal,

your suffering, your perception,

will also be the same as mortals.

This subordinate is like the barrier that is resisting the out-of-control truck to prevent it from continuing to slide during a car accident.

He does not dare to let go, because his master has not issued the order to end the game.

He is buying time for his master, and enduring terrible torment and suffering for it;

even if his master is just standing behind him,

doing some things that seem to have little meaning,

such as,

looking at the scenery and thinking about life.

"You said that you noticed something was wrong from the first day I started playing chess with him."

"Actually, I already noticed it when you got off the bus that day to rescue them from the car accident."

"You said that a thousand years ago, when I took you out of the Buddhist realm for the first time and came to hell, when you saw him, he walked up to you, and you were afraid."

"Actually, that time, I was also afraid."

"You said that for thousands of years, there have been rumors in hell that he lost the foundation left by his ancestors in the name of extravagance."

"Actually, I was once confused, thinking that it seemed to be true."

The masked youth slowly closed his eyes,

and around him,

faint and peaceful Sanskrit sounds began to ripple.

The medical staff in the operating room who were working hard to resuscitate the patient inexplicably felt a sense of peace in their hearts, as if the previous anxiety and fatigue had been swept away in an instant.

Their souls were comforted, and their emotions were eased;

"I'm here. I found him. It seems like a cat-and-mouse game.

But in reality,

who is the prey and who is the hunter,

is really hard to say.

Whether it is my cat-and-mouse game or my desperate measures, I think the latter may be more appropriate.

"The car accident that day was his invitation. What he meant was that we could play a game;

I accepted."

"Just like a thousand years ago, when I said I wanted to discuss Buddhism with him, he readily agreed."

"A thousand years ago, I dug a pit for him;

a thousand years later, he dug a pit for me;

this karma can be considered settled.

The reason why this game has continued until now is that I still have some hesitation;

why is this game so simple?

It's like sending me the exam questions a month before the imperial examination.

I'm getting old. Although I said I'm not old enough to reach the level of 'immortal,' I have to admit that I am indeed getting old.

Back then, I dared to say that I would not become a Buddha until hell was emptied;

now,

a thousand years later,

I have personally completely smoothed out this so-called edge.

Sometimes, when I think back,

the edge I smoothed out for the sake of Buddhahood,

was,

were those edges my true Buddhahood?"

"These days, I have been hesitating, I have been wandering, I have been thinking;

seeking Buddhahood is seeking a liberation, seeking a home, seeking peace, but in the final analysis, it is seeking an answer.

Standing before the Buddha,

you can pour out your heart to the Buddha,

and the Buddha can answer your questions and solve your doubts;

that is the Buddha.

However, the Buddha's answer does not come from the Buddha.

A green lamp, an ancient wall, a futon, an altar,

you are asking the Buddha,

and the Buddha,

is in your heart.

Buddha,

is a medium,

the answer you get from the Buddha is actually the answer your own heart gives itself.

This is the Buddha in my heart,

to worship the Buddha,

is not as good as worshiping oneself.

Back then,

I left the Buddhist realm because I understood this.

For them, because they need to be high above, the Buddha must be high above;

for me, the Buddha is a blank piece of paper, a blank piece of paper for people to step on. This is the Buddha, this is the real... height.

What is taller than a person is a house;

what is taller than a house is a hill;

what is taller than a hill is a mountain;

what is taller than a mountain is a cloud;

what is taller than a cloud is the sky.

In this world, one mountain is always higher than another. You can always find something higher than what you see before you;

however,

what meaning do those things have

for you?

For oneself,

high mountains, white clouds, and the sky are all things that are out of reach.

The true highest point

is the top of one's own head."

"This game is wonderful, but it has ultimately lost its obsession, and in the end, it will only be boring.

Perhaps what he really wants is for me to retreat in doubt.

Perhaps he wants me to go all in while worrying.

I seek Buddhahood, and the altar is empty. I want to invite the immortals down. Worshiping the Buddha can no longer satisfy me. I want to see what kind of aura a true immortal has.

But he went to that place earlier than me, seeking and seeking, and became his scapegoat.

I don't understand him very well, otherwise I wouldn't have realized the mystery of the millennium until the sword was about to touch my neck.

But he understands me very well, even more than I understand myself."

The masked youth stood up

and slowly walked to the door of the operating room.

"I have hesitated for too long, and I have been confused for too long."

"Occasionally, when I am lost, in a trance, I have dreamed back to ancient times;

the great powers of ancient times, laughed and scolded, causing the heavens to collapse;

in this seemingly true and false dream,

I once approached them,

they asked me,

where do you come from;

I answered:

from paradise;

they asked me,

why are you here;

I answered:

to seek Buddhahood.

They laughed,

they laughed and said,

when they were born, there was no Buddha in the world."

"Beep........................"

On the electrocardiogram, there was a cold, straight line.

Director Wang bit his lip, raised his head, was it relief, or regret, or bitterness?

He didn't know, but he only felt an emptiness in his heart.

Everyone in the operating room fell silent at this moment.

They were mourning the departure of a life, but they did not know that this was a liberation, a new life, a... return for the patient on the operating table.

At the door of the operating room,

the masked youth reached out

and pushed open the door;

at the door,

a black-robed youth stood with his body bent,

a smile on his face,

as if he had been waiting for a long time.

When the masked youth's foot stepped out of the operating room,

the bandages on his body began to dissipate,

the scars on his body began to recover,

a simple and ancient kasaya appeared on his body,

a golden mask replaced the mask and continued to cover his face,

his voice was still calm, still clear, still without any worldly atmosphere or waves:

"Since you say that when you were born, there was no Buddha in the world;

therefore, this poor monk has come here specifically to worship the Buddha for you."