Song You snapped off several stalks of thatch grass that had only just sprouted in spring. They were still short, slender, and tender. He casually wove them into a hollow ball, looked it over from every angle, and found it unsatisfactory. Walking was boring anyway, so he tossed it aside and made two more. Only then did he choose one he liked and tuck it into his bedding roll.
Thus he strolled along at ease, picking fruit and breaking off grass. It did not delay his journey in the least; instead, it added no small amount of pleasure to the walk.
In a daze, it felt as though he had returned to his childhood.
Back then, no matter where he went or how long the road was, so long as he was walking, there were endless delights in the roadside fields and among the trees in the forest.
Back then, walking had never been for the sake of walking.
Gradually, they climbed higher and higher, until they reached the mountaintop.
Three Flower Cat stopped and turned to gaze into the distance.
Song You stopped as well.
He did not know where this place was, only that from here, mountains and rivers lay beneath his feet, and the view was magnificent.
A great many sugarcane plants grew here.
Between the slopes lay level, neatly arranged fields, dyed a dense green by swathes of sugarcane. Little paths ran through them, leading to places he would never visit in this lifetime. Great trees grew quietly beside the paths, though no one knew how many years they had stood there. At the edge of sight, villages and houses could vaguely be seen, and no one knew how many years they had existed either. Everything was clear, tranquil, and beautiful.
Song You could not help