Early morning.
The path back to the small mountain village was overgrown with weeds. Dewdrops clung to the leaves, webs stretched between the trees, and walking kicked up dirt and sand. The chirping of birds was still serene.
When his vision first returned to clarity, Zhou Li had found it somewhat disorienting. Now, however, he had adapted; in fact, he had even developed a habit of listening intently to the sounds around him. Any sound would conjure a mental image, although these pictures weren't necessarily accurate. They were merely a comfort.
He glanced back—the scenery here couldn't compare to Mingjiu Mountain. He also took a quick look at Zheng Zhilan. She walked quietly between him and Brother Nan, her mood seemingly no different from usual. Zhou Li withdrew his gaze.
