"It's raining!"
When they arrived, the weather was fine. Suddenly, dark clouds spread, followed by a gentle rain, rendering the world misty.
Wu Hai quickly opened the oil-paper umbrella he carried with him, shielding Fang Zheng from the rain.
As for himself, he got soaked in the rain.
He didn't mind at all and even smiled, saying:
"Spring rain is as precious as oil. If it rains a few more times, the farmers will have a good harvest and a prosperous year."
"Yes."
Fang Zheng, with hands clasped behind his back, nodded and continued up the stone steps.
The surface of the stone steps was delicately carved by artisans to prevent slipping. The trees on both sides whispered, making him momentarily confused about which world he was in.
The mountain forest,
even hundreds or thousands of years later, might remain as it is today.
Like Celestial Plate Mountain and Phoenix Head Mountain, there was little change from hundreds of years ago.
