Pathways crisscross and winding creeks flow, shrouded in mist against green hills brushed by nature's palette.
At the foot of the rolling mountains lay a village surrounded by a stream and fields.
In the midsummer bloom, the Spiritual Rice in the Spirit Fields grew lush, the verdant stalks rustling in the wind.
Farmers wearing bamboo hats labored in the fields, barefoot children laughed and ran along the ridges, while old oxen grazed by the riverbank, and somewhere a shepherd's flute sang its ancient song.
Wang Chen rode his gray donkey along the country path by the fields.
A gaggle of mischievous children followed, trying to catch the donkey's swishing tail.
But their prank was noticed by the gray donkey, which suddenly bolted forward, splattering the youngsters' faces with mud!
"Waah~"
The outsmarted kids immediately burst into tears.
