The driver was right. The road was quiet.
The taxi arrived at the bottom, and Zhang Zian felt lucky to be alive. He rushed to get out of the car.
Mt. Hidden Fog was a small and bland mountain that merely any outlanders were familiar with. Being only four or five hundred meters high and with a gently sloped terrain, it was, in fact, an excellent location for hiking. There weren’t any attraction points up the mountain, nor any special wonders. It was a quiet place and nothing else. Most tourist came in the fall to look at the maple leaves. It was the beginning of fall. Green trees started turning yellow and it wasn’t very pretty yet.
Mt. Hidden Fog was named because it was often covered with fog, especially in the spring.
Zhang Zian had been here several times when he was little. He also came for a few spring and fall field trips when he was in Junior High. It had been more than 10 years since his last visit.
