A rainy day at 22°C is the norm for summer in Wuliang Mountain. Peaks like Goddess Peak hide in the clouds, rarely showing themselves. The higher mountains behind the peaks are always hidden in mist, their mysterious and profound grandeur inviting.
The alpine meadow, just as when we left, remains lush and green, growing peacefully surrounded by mountains, and appearing wise and unassuming among the mouths of cattle and sheep.
The stream in the center of the meadow, breaking through all obstacles, roars mightily. The rumbling water flows down from the depths of the western mountains. The originally shallow stream is now knee-deep, and a simple bridge made of four pine logs has been erected over the water.
The children search for treasures in the water. They argue over a rare gradient-colored stone, then rejoice at finding a snowflake-like mica stone. Even the cat named Summer, initially timid, becomes curious and then happily chases colorful butterflies in the grass and catches green mantises with raised tails.
In the rainy season, the mountains are a playground for wild mushrooms. Various wild mushrooms hide in secluded corners of the mountains. Only those as familiar with the mountains as goats can return with a full load. Taking the opportunity to look for wild mushrooms, I ventured into a steep slope covered with pine trees. The primitive and rugged mountain unfolded before me. The silent mountain body preserves traces of deep time everywhere: ancient trees like twisted dragons of unknown age, moss and lichen thriving under the ancient trees, and rocks as immovable as castles beneath the roots...
