I reluctantly savoured the caramel, coppery bitterness of the weather-beaten soil that clung to my tongue.
Sweat trickled silently down my forehead, streaming like tears as the merciless sun blazed overhead, boiling and blistering my skin without a hint of reprieve.
Yet, despite the unyielding heat and labour, my shovel drove deeper into the earth. Each thrust was more determined than the last, and my breaths quickened, rhythmic and sharp, as if propelled by some unseen force.
As brutal, torturous and physically demanding as this was, the energy never left my body.
I felt like I could do this for hours.
With every swing, I inhaled sharply, and the Qi rose through my chest muscles, expanding and my diaphragm slowly moving outwards, releasing waves of vitality, an unfamiliar refreshing sensation.
