In the forest, Tao Bin scrambled about like a young monkey. His senior brothers were variously helpless, some rubbing their bald heads, others sighing as they touched their flat tops, and still others tenderly combing their bangs with a small comb.
Underneath an ancient tree that was a hundred years old sat a boy, his skin as white as snow and his lips red. He lowered his eyelids as if resting his mind. His eyelashes were thick and long, casting shadows on his eyelids. He was so still and quiet that even the surrounding wind seemed to slow down, as if entering another realm of stillness.
Suddenly, a long vine swung back and forth, bringing with it a person who roared wildly.
Tao Bin imitated the roar of Mount Tai as he caught the vine and swung over, his foot landing on the trunk of the ancient tree, causing it to tremble under his weight as leaves fluttered down.
