In the mountains, there is no trace of time; only great stars stream pale overhead, gazing idly as sun and moon circle round.
Amid the Hundred Thousand Mountains, far from worldly clamor, one sometimes hears birdsong echo in the empty valleys, and sees the babble of brooks still flowing.
Immersed in such a place, Zhang Fan felt an unprecedented tranquility, deeper and more serene than what he'd once known atop Zhenwu Mountain.
After all, Zhenwu Mountain is a 5A-rated tourist site—though removed from the Red Dust, it remains within it, nothing like the true isolation of the Hundred Thousand Mountains.
Who sits in idle contemplation, feasting in the vacant mountains without a care?
Such indulgent leisure, this drifting realm, it soothes the heart; the tangled thoughts in the mind settle, like dust in a room quietly descending without a trace of disorder.
