The entire hillside is densely packed with small pine trees that are calf-high, and the mountain road runs through it. Walking through the mountains, every traveler without exception blends into the green picture. The fun of hiking is to will

The entire hillside is densely packed with small pine trees that are calf-high, and the mountain road runs through it. Walking through the mountains, every traveler without exception blends into the green picture. The fun of hiking is to transform the whole scenery from a distance into a vivid and countless details of the present: reverie and reality collide and harmonize.

The light purple-blue inverted pot flowers on the roadside, the tender green bracken that curves and stretches, the blue-green phoenix butterflies that flutter, the emerald green moss cliff face, the stream flowing into lines, the stones of various colors in the stream, the green pine forest, the yellow-rumped bulbul standing on the tip of the pine tree, the bean-green pine bag... Countless elements work together to create the landscape in the mountains.

I followed the mountain road to the farmer's doorstep: a small stream that passed by the doorstep. Crooked earthen houses, vegetable gardens, cow dung, earthen dogs chained to their teeth and grinning teeth, dirty clothes hanging on the wood, old hens with chicks, pigs lying in pigsties, and occasionally roosters crowing. The typical scene of a small family working alone, everything is self-sufficient.

A skinny old man, bending over and toiling in the field. Years of hard work have carved deep wrinkles on his face. When he saw a stranger passing by his door, the corners of his mouth rose and he smiled. With a kind of simplicity unique to mountain people, warmly beckoning guests to his house to "draft".

The mountain path is steep and covered with gray-yellow gravel. Every hiker, with beads of sweat on his face, was panting. They are free and strong, chewing apples and gurgling and drinking water. In the rapid beating of the heart, I feel the existence of myself more truly.

The invisible mountain breeze blows through the thin pine leaves, and the sound is low and coherent, making people's hearts rise and fall. In the mountain breeze, a phoenix butterfly, laboriously flaring its wings, disappeared into the transparent air in a blink of an eye. It was as if the wind in the whole mountain was caused by it, and it was necessary to quickly flee the crime scene.

Every traveler who stops is immersed in the sound of loose waves. Eat and drink, with joy and curiosity, move on. The closer you get to the ridge, the road gradually flattens.