The shovel was pulled out of the ground, and Tang Yu gazed at the sapling in front of her, only as tall as herself, feeling a surge of emotion.
"Grandma, you have to grow up well," she said to the tree.
Jiangcheng Mountain was cool and quiet, as though the oppressive heat and humidity existed only in fanciful legends.
Nobody could imagine what lay beneath the mountain; to the people of Jiangcheng, it was a range that could be seen from the riverbanks since childhood but never visited.
Just to be clear, Tang Yu was not mentally ill.
Having buried her grandmother's ashes and planted the sapling, Tang Yu had fulfilled the old lady's last wish at long last.
She looked down the mountain, the Lingjiang River flowed tranquilly, and the Abandoned Capital Town in the distance was still bustling as ever.
It seemed as if nothing in the world had changed.
When Tang Yu returned from the woods, she could no longer remember where exactly that tree was.
